Page 19

Wren

“ C ome all the way back up to all fours, curl the toes under, and send the hips up high and back.”

I glance at my phone screen in the early morning light and see the yoga instructor shifting from one foot to the other, gently rolling her hip inward each time to stretch the muscles.

As awkwardly as I can possibly make it, I try my best to mimic the motion, wobbling a few times.

The exercise must be working because my leg muscles are on fire after this half-hour yoga session in the front yard.

The backyard would’ve provided me with more privacy, but it’s mostly dirt.

Sure, I could have done this on my living room floor, but I thought the idea of doing it outside in nature sounded more fun.

And it would allow me to get more in tune with nature and have a total ‘Detox and Reset,’ as the instructor put it.

While I’m in an upside-down V with my bottom pointed straight toward the street behind me, I inhale deeply as I continue to make the peddling motion on my tiptoes on the thin, purple foam mat.

The tank top I threw on was a bit more low-cut than I thought it was, and I’d prefer everyone see my behind in the air rather than look down my shirt.

Not that I have much to show, but I’d still rather not give anyone too much to talk about—I am the new girl on the street, after all.

The thought of my new neighbors not liking me makes me anxious.

There aren’t many people living on this road, and I doubt anyone is watching me, but you never know.

“And finally, find stillness here as you peel your hip creases up. Shine your bum up to the sky and close your eyes as you draw your navel in to support the lower back.”

I follow her instructions and feel every muscle in my thighs and calves ignite. Sonya makes this look effortless, not a muscle shaking or a drop of sweat in sight. Meanwhile, I’m one breath away from collapsing onto my mat.

“Please tell me we are almost done,” I mutter, panting toward the phone as beads of sweat continue to form on my forehead. I thought I started this early enough that the heat wouldn’t be an issue.

Clearly, I was wrong.

“Take a deep breath in…and exhale to release.”

Again, I do as I’m told, even as my legs beg for mercy.

“Bend the knees generously and carve a line with your nose to look forward. Walk your way to the top, feet hip-width apart.”

“Oh my God, woman. What are you tryin’ to do to me?” I continue complaining, following her instructions. I’m more flexible than I ever realized, but the pull on my muscles makes it clear it’s been a hot minute since they’ve been properly stretched.

I shuffle forward—bent in half, arms dangling toward the ground—when a commotion behind me draws my attention. I straighten just in time to see Carson’s truck pulling out of the ditch and heading down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust.

“ What in the …”

I quickly reach for my phone and close the video of Sonya, opening up my contacts to dial his number.

He clears his throat before responding. “Hey.”

“Hey! Are you okay? What just happened?” I continue to watch down the road as his truck disappears out of sight.

“Uh. Yeah…just got distracted.”

I smirk. “Distracted? You ? Mr. ‘ Eyes-on-the-road-there’s-a-ditch’?” I tease, reminding him of the text he sent me.

“Yeah, I’m aware… Thanks.”

“What distracted you? You ain’t textin’ are you?” I ask in a disapproving voice since he always says the same thing to me.

“No.”

The answer is followed by silence. I don’t say anything either. My brows furrow as I try to figure this out.

“I just saw somethin’,” he finally answers.

“What did you see?”

There’s another pause, and this time I wonder if we’ve lost connection.

“An animal.”

“Where? What was it? Oh! Maybe I could get a picture!” I walk toward the road. “I don’t see anything,” I state as I spin around, glancing both ways down the vacant street and toward the open field across from me.

“Nothin’, Tink. It’s gone now… Go inside and put some clothes on. It’s chilly out this mornin’.”

I laugh. “Are you sick? It’s so hot out here that I’m about to start strippin’ down so I can go take an ice-cold shower.”

He mumbles something about him taking a shower, but I can’t hear him anymore.

I press the phone closer to my ear. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he sighs in frustration.

“Do you need me to give you drivin’ lessons?” I tease.

“No.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” I keep taunting him, knowing how annoyed he gets by things he considers imperfections. Normally, I don’t tease him about that stuff, but this is too much fun.

“I know how to drive. I’ve been doin’ it longer than you have.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure only one of us has driven into a ditch.”

He lets out another sigh, and I can vividly picture his scowl in my mind.

“I have an opening on my calendar tomorrow afternoon. I can pencil you in. It will be my new item on my Wren-ovation list: Teach Carson to Drive,” I continue to pester. “I’ll even?—”

“I was lookin’ at your ass.”

My mouth goes dry. “Oh...”

My lip curls in, and I bite down. It must have just gotten fifty degrees hotter, because my cheeks are on fire now.

“Have a good one, Tink.”

“Okay… Bye.” I hang up quickly and turn to walk back inside the house, partially rolled up yoga mat in hand.

Carson Matthews was looking at my butt.

“ Oh my God .”

A mix of feelings hit me all at once—first, mortification. I silently begin to pray that I didn’t have panty lines showing. How had I not heard his truck coming down the road?

I make a mental note to double-check my bottom in the mirror from now on before doing any more yoga.

But… I also can’t stop smiling.

My childhood crush was looking at my butt.

“It was nothing, Wren,” I tell myself, getting a glass of water. To avoid potentially making things awkward between us again or possibly losing a friend, I need to flush these hopes right down the drain where they belong.

Walking over to the kitchen table, I pick up the pen resting on the notepad and cross off outdoor yoga. Another hobby tested. I think it’s safe to say this one belongs on the ‘ maybe another time’ list.

Before I can think any better of it, I add a few more items to the ever-growing Wren-ovation Project list. At this pace, there’s no way I can accomplish all of these things in two weeks.

A slight heat tickles my spine as I read over the added items I’d like to try.

Thinking about Carson has my mind wandering to other places.

Over the years, I’ve heard the rumors about his tastes in the bedroom—whispers that made me blush but also piqued my curiosity.

One time, I asked a boyfriend if he’d be interested in trying any of it, and he looked at me like I had lost my mind.

I ended up laughing it off as a joke, but a part of me has always been curious.

I’m not the type to just sleep around, but once I do find someone I trust, this part of the list will have to come back out.

“Did I ever tell you about the time we melted a mailbox?”

Donnie’s eyes twinkle. Geri, sitting nearby in her bed, already wears the knowing smile of someone who’s heard this story a thousand times and still loves every word.

My skeptical eyes remain on the man who’s always full of stories. “No, Donnie. I don’t think I’ve heard that one,” I respond as I finish checking his wife’s vitals.

“Summer, 1964,” he begins, hands gesturing as he speaks.

“I saw the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.

The most beautiful, big doe eyes and long chestnut hair with a blue bow in the back.

” He gets lost in thought, reliving the memory, pure joy on his face.

“She was kinda quiet, but I could see the troublemaker hidin’ in those sweet brown eyes of hers. ”

Donnie grins at his wife, a sweet moment that has my heart aching for them.

“Well, anyway… Us kids ran around and played all day. My momma hollered that it was time for me to come in and eat supper. I started walkin’ home, but somethin’ made me freeze mid-step.

Without a second thought, I spun around, took the four large steps back to her, and kissed her good.

Right up against that mailbox.” He smiles and lifts his chin toward his wife.

“It was so hot we melted that damn thing, ain’t that right, Geri Poo? ”

“That’s right.” She nods from her bed, an infectious smile still permanently etched on her face.

The love these two have is so beautiful, it hurts to watch sometimes.

“You two are too much,” I say, fighting back the tears this guy makes me shed every time he talks about his wife. “I have to leave before you turn me into a sobbin’ mess.” I stand up from the bed and pat Geri’s arm. She smiles up at me.

“You gonna settle down soon, sweetie?” she asks in her quiet voice.

I laugh through my nose. Before I can respond, her husband answers for me.

“It’s happenin’. They don’t know it, but it is,” Donnie says as he hangs his hat on the hook next to the door of their shared room.

Shaking my head, I quickly correct him. “There’s definitely no one like that in my life right now.”

Donnie winks. “Right.”

“I’m serious! I haven’t dated in a long time.”

“Good,” Geri says. “Men are trouble. Enjoy the peace while you’ve got it.” Sitting up, she swings her legs over the bed.

“Hey!” Donnie’s brows knit together at his wife, offended.

She gives him a sweet smile and bats her lashes at him. “Except you, dear.”

“ Mhhmm … You women. Always teamin’ up on me,” Donnie says, shaking his head. “I’m gonna take a walk. You feel like joinin’ me, Mom?”

I smile at the name he always uses for her. The first time I heard it, I worried he might be confused, but I quickly learned from their daughter that’s what he’s called her since she became the mother of his children.

“I’ll see y’all later. I have more rooms to visit. Geri, if you ain’t feelin’ well, don’t push yourself too hard today.”

“Oh, I won’t,” she smiles. “Might just work on my blanket some more.”

The large purple and white blanket she has been crocheting for the past several months must be close to completion. It’s enormous, and I’m surprised that, despite the pain in her hands, she’s been able to work on it as much as she has.

When I finish my rounds, I sit back at my desk and quickly jot down an activity to add to my list of hobbies to try. I nestle my phone back inside my purse, leaving the note app open so I don’t forget to add the new items to my list at home.

So far, I’ve done a few things and enjoyed most of them. It’s nice to do something for me for a change. Not that I’ve had to practice turning anyone down for help lately. A part of me wonders if Carson called everyone I know and told them to leave me alone.

But who am I kidding? He’d want me to turn people away. So there’s little hope that he warned everyone off.

Maybe I’ll luck out, and during these two weeks, no one will ask for anything, and I won’t have to say no to anyone. Just the idea of doing that makes my skin crawl. Turning Indie down that one time gave me indigestion.

This weekend, Carson and I are planning a night fishing trip. I’ve never really been interested in fishing, but I’ve never tried night fishing before. The idea that I won’t have to sit out in the sun and roast makes it sound more appealing.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll enjoy it.

When I get home tonight, I plan to pull out the paint and brushes that Indie gave me. I tried to pay her for the supplies, but she insisted she had more than she knew what to do with. Being the amazing artist that she is, I’m sure she does.

During my drive home, I pass the Front Porch Diner. I know I promised Carson I wouldn’t help unless he asked, but it’s late, and the lights are on, so I pull in to see what he’s up to.

Our conversation ended awkwardly this morning, and I really don’t like leaving it like that. I debated several times throughout the day about texting or calling him, but always chickened out.

When I pull into the parking lot, I spot him inside, shirtless, with his ink-covered arms stretched above his head.

Heat rushes to my face as I admire the sculpted muscles of his back and shoulders. His dark, raven hair is disheveled, which is unusual for him. Carson is always so put together.

Opening my car door, I hear the loud music coming from inside the diner. Before I step inside, I remind myself not to check him out—no matter how tempting it is.

Or the fact that he did it to me this morning.

The memory gives life to the little butterflies in my belly.

Without any luck, my eyes immediately find his perfectly sharp jaw and follow the expanse of his neck down to the sleeve of tattoos that cover his arms. Each one is in black and gray, with not a stitch of color in sight.

My eyes shift back up when I see that his body has stopped moving.

His gaze meets mine, and a smirk curls on his lips. “Hey, Tink.”

Busted.