Page 47 of The Bronze Garza

Having gained my attention, he beckons me with two fingers.

“What?” I call. “I’m kinda busy.”

He widens his stance, and even though the distance is too wide to see his expression, I justknowhe’s glowering. “Get your ass over here, Lyra.” Without waiting for my response, which would’ve undoubtedly been a mouthy one, he turns and disappears into the house.

“You better go,” Jo’s groggy voice comes from the left of me.

I swivel my attention to her. “So sorry for waking you.”

She waves me off. “Eh, it’s just as well. This is how ya’ get neck and back problems.” She straightens up from the chair. “Gonna head inside and get some proper rest.”

As she plods inside, I save my file and shut down my laptop.

Deliberately slow and unhurried, I jaunt across to the house.

I find Torin in the living room, one hand on the back of his neck, the other holding his phone to his ear. “...could be, but just a hunch.” He must sense my presence because he turns and narrows his gaze on me. “Just look into it and get back to me,” he says into the phone then ends the call.

“What did I do this time?” I ask, resting my laptop on the side-table next to the armchair.

“It’s almost six and all you’ve had is a smoothie.”

This again. He’s always on me about food. I don’t know what his deal is. What does he care if I eat or not? He barely even likes me.

“I know. I lost track of time.”

“Doing what?”

“Noneyabidness.”

“What?”

I fall back into the armchair and kick my legs over the arm. “You’re out of fruits and veggies anyway, so...”

“Could’ve ordered something.”

“Okay, so I’ll order something.” I eye him up and down. I can even smell him from here—freshly sanded wood and rain. “Do you have a Tinder date or something?”

“Yeah, you mind?”

An unexpected spike of jealousy pricks at me. Plus a pinch of bitterness that he’s ditching me to go get his joystick wet. “No. But only if Reuben’s the one who will fill in while you’re gone.”

Something flashes in his eyes. “Why Reuben?”

“Because I like him,” I reply with a one-shoulder shrug. “He’s nice and kind of pretty to look at.”

He runs his tongue across his teeth and tucks his phone into his pocket. “Well, sorry to disappoint you.”

I swing my legs off the arm of the chair and sit up. “It’s Reuben or no—”

“Go put some jeans on or something,” he cuts me off. “And brush those blossoms out of your hair.”

“Why?” I ask, absently reaching up to my topknot and coming away with several tiny blossoms and weeds. Huh. These must have landed in my hair when Jo was plant grooming.

“We’re going to the supermarket.” He turns and walks right out the front door.

A chilling wave of something unnameable lingers in his wake. Not his usual annoyance or irritation with me. But something else. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.

I head upstairs and change from my yoga shorts and tank top to jeans and a tee. By the time I’ve made it back downstairs, Torin has already backed his jeep out of the garage and is waiting for me by the main gate, engine running.