True believer - Nicholas Sparks [70]
She laughed, the sound melodic. In the moonlight, her features were unreadable, and he thought back to how animated she had been among the townspeople.
Reaching the car, he opened the door for her. As she climbed in, she brushed against him slightly, and he wondered if she did so in response to the way he’d nudged her, or if she even noticed. After rounding the car, he slid behind the wheel, slipping the keys into the ignition but hesitating before starting the engine.
“What?” she asked.
“I was just thinking . . . ,” he said, trailing off.
The words seemed to hang in the car and she nodded. “I thought I heard some squeaking.”
“Funny. I was trying to say, I know it’s getting late, but would you like to come with me to the cemetery?”
“In case you get scared?”
“Something like that.”
She peeked at her watch, thinking, Oh, boy . . .
She shouldn’t go. She really shouldn’t. She’d already opened the door by coming with him tonight, and to spend the next couple of hours alone with him would open the door even further. She knew that nothing good could come of that, and there wasn’t a single reason to say yes. But before she could stop herself, the words were already coming.
“I’d have to swing by the house first to change into something more comfortable.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “I’m all for you changing into something more comfortable.”
“I’ll bet you are,” she said knowingly.
“Now, don’t start getting fresh,” he said, feigning offense. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for that.”
“That’s my line,” she said.
“I thought I’d heard it somewhere.”
“Well, get your own material next time. And just so you know, I don’t want you getting any funny ideas about tonight, either.”
“I have no funny ideas. I’m completely devoid of humor.”
“You know what I meant.”
“No,” he said, trying to look innocent. “What did you mean?”
“Just drive, will you? Or I’ll change my mind.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, turning the key. “Gee, you can be pushy sometimes.”
“Thank you. I’ve been told it’s one of my better qualities.”
“By whom?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The Taurus rolled along the foggy streets, the yellow streetlamps only making the night seem murkier. As soon as they pulled into her drive, she opened her door.
“Wait here,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
He smiled, liking the fact she was nervous.
“Do you need my key to the city to open your door? I’d be happy to lend it to you.”
“Now, don’t start thinking you’re special, Mr. Marsh. My mother got a key to the city, too.”
“Are we back to ‘Mr. Marsh’ again? And here I thought we were getting along just fine.”
“And I’m beginning to think this evening has gone to your head.”
She stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her in an attempt to have the last word. Jeremy laughed, thinking she was a lot like he was. Unable to resist, he pressed the button on his door to lower her window. He leaned across the seat.
“Hey, Lexie?”
She turned. “Yes?”
“Since it might be chilly tonight, feel free to grab a bottle of wine.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Why? So you can ply me with liquor?”
He grinned. “Only if you’re okay with that.”
Her eyes narrowed, but like before, she looked more playful than offended. “Not only do I not keep any wine in the house, Mr. Marsh, but I’d say no, anyway.”
“You don’t drink?”
“Not too much,” she said. “Now, wait there,” she warned, pointing toward the drive. “I’m going to throw on a pair of jeans.”
“I promise not to even try to peek in the window.”
“Good idea. I’d definitely have to tell Rodney if you did something that stupid.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Trust me,” she said, trying to muster a severe look, “it wouldn’t be.”
Jeremy watched her move up the walkway, certain that he’d never met anyone quite like her.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled to a stop in front of Cedar Creek Cemetery. He’d angled the car so the headlights shone into the cemetery, and his first thought was that even the fog looked different here. It was dense and impenetrable