Page 44 of Take Me Home

He pressed his lips together, gave a slight shake of his head at her too-enthusiastic acting voice, and gestured at the back corner of the lot. “Behind those over there. Isn’t it— What’s the word? Stately?”

Her cheeks burned from the force of her smile.

Chapter

Ten

Despite all of Ash’s adjustments, the tree trunk stuck out past Hazel’s back bumper, and the top flopped down onto the windshield. Ash tied it as securely as he could with twine then joined her in the car, where she was cupping her hands around the heat vent. “Sure you’re okay to drive? We could always come back in my dad’s truck.”

“And let someone steal my tree?”

“They’ll hold it for you.”

“Yeah, I see how effective that is.”

He frowned at the branches obscuring the upper windshield. “Will this even fit in your dad’s house?”

“The house is a mansion,” she said. “It’ll fit.”

“That’s what she said,” he mumbled. “Sorry. That was—”

“Somature.”

She was still teasing him when, a mile from the tree lot, a cop pulled them over. Hazel turned an apologetic smile up at the officer, who pointedly lifted a branch out of the way to lean in the window. As Hazel retrieved her license, the officer bent even lower. “Ash Campbell?”

He recognized her, a friend of his mother’s. She asked after his family, and Ash asked about her son. More than once, Hazel shot disbelieving looks his way, still clutching her license to hand through the window.

“Is this beautiful tree going to the children’s hospital?” the officer asked. “Your mother outdoes herself every year.”

“Uh…you know how she is!” He was going to hell, probably.

After a few more minutes of his best small talk, the officer let them go with a warning.

Instead of pulling back onto the road, Hazel gaped at Ash. Her hazard lights clicked on and off steadily. “Is this what it’s like coming back home regularly? You know everybody and get out of tickets?”

“Well, you have to be a little charming, too.”

She snorted. “And where did this charm of yours come from?”

“I’ve always been charming.” He flashed a grin.

“Not always. At least, not around me.”

He was hyperaware of the way his smile faltered, tried to salvage it anyway.

“You’re charming with people at the café. I thought it was an act before.”

“An act?”

“Ash, the friendly barista. I thought maybe you were just angling for better tips.”

“But now…” he prompted.

She shrugged. “Then I thought it was just me. Even in high school, you smiled at everybody. Just never at me.”

This again. How could he make her believe he’d never hated her without admitting that, actually, he’d been kind of in love with her? “It wasn’t because I didn’t—”

She squared her shoulders to him fully. “I’m sorry for how I acted at that party.”