Page 26 of Valley Girls
“And it’s dark now anyway.” Walker laid down his cards.
Thea laughed and shoved away from the table. “More tea?”
“Sure,” he said.
“Want any, Rilla?” Thea asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
Walker’s eyes met hers; and for a moment she was back at the pool, sitting beside him.
He looked away, gathering up the cards.
Rilla shifted awkwardly and tried to look like she was doing something with her phone.
“What were you up to?” Thea called from the kitchen.
“Oh. I ate with some friends,” Rilla said.
“Want to play?” Walker asked, shuffling the cards. “I’ll deal you in.”
“Sure.” Rilla sat at the bench.
“You in this hand?” he yelled to Thea in the kitchen.
“I’ll skip,” Thea called.
Rilla leaned forward and put her chin in her hands, watching the cards fly across the table as he dealt. His fingers were smudged and she wondered if it was from dirt or from drawing. He didn’t seem like the artist type—which made it all the more interesting to Rilla.
“When you going climbing again?” Walker asked.
“I don’t know,” Rilla answered, pulling her cards off the table. She kept her face still, feeling his eyes on her as she arranged her cards.
“I’ll take you again,” he said.
“No, thank you.”
“I promise it’ll be better.”
She snorted and stared at her cards. “You had your chance.”
He didn’t respond.
She glanced up. He wore a fluorescent-green T-shirt and his sunglasses were on the table, but his hair still stood like the glasses were pushed up on his head. His lower lip pursed as he moved his cards. He was too attractive for his own good, she could just tell. Those blue eyes flicked to her. “How many?” he asked.
She held up two fingers.
Without dropping his gaze, he gave her two cards.
“Rilla, do you want honey?” Thea asked.
Something beeped. But it didn’t sound right.
Rilla frowned. “Is that the microwave? That’s a weird microwave.”
Walker put down his cards and leaned back, the beeping continuing, as he took something out of his pocket.
“Is that a pager?” she asked, stunned. At the same time, Thea called from the kitchen doorway. “Is that yours, Walker?”
