Page 97 of Wild Mistake
“Hi.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“How’s Gabe doing?” He saunters closer.
“Better.”
“Good.” Aiden’s brow furrows as he passes his niece’s vehicle. “Is that Riley’s truck?”
“Yeah, she stopped by to see Gabe.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah.”
The silence stretches between us.
He stops several feet away, but his gaze eats me up like he can’t look away. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”
“Kinda.” I smile. “Yeah.”
“I know you said to leave you alone”—he holds up his hands—“And I’ve tried. I really have. But, well, I’m hoping you’ll make an exception. At least for an hour.”
I should say no. I know I should. But I don’t. “Okay.”
“I need to borrow you.”
“Borrow?”
“I promise I’ll bring you back soon.” He flashes me a smile that steals the last of my resolve.
I take a deep inhale of the crisp February air and glance back at the house. Gabe is fine, at least for a few hours. Parker too. My parents are upstairs if there’s an emergency. I’m also insanely curious as to what Aiden wants. “Okay.”
We don’t speak as he drives through town, or when he turns off onto one of the roads and weaves his truck through a neighborhood made up of farmhouse-style homes on good sized lots. I almost ask him where we’re going, but instead feign a look of indifference. He pulls down a gravel driveway and parks in front of a house with blue shutters and a grand porch that reminds me a little of the main home at his family’s ranch. I don’t know who lives here. It’s one of the newer builds that didn’t exist when we were kids.
Aiden hops out of the truck and walks around the front to open my door. He holds his hand out for me, the same as he’s done so many times, and just like always a flutter stirs in my belly at the contact our hands make.
He presses his open palm against the small of my back, leading me toward the wrap around porch. I miss the contact as he reaches into his front pocket, producing a key to open the front door.
I can’t take it anymore. “What’s this?” I step inside the door as he motions me forward. “Whose house are we in?”
There’s no furniture inside, but for one camping chair and a projector set on a milk crate. The wall the chair faces is painted white, but the light streaming from the projector illuminates like a screen.
I turn toward Aiden.
“Take a seat. This is what I wanted to show you.”
I glance around, still confused as I sit in the chair.
Aiden picks up a folded blanket from behind the milk crate and hands it to me. “It’s kinda cold in here.”
“Thanks.” I try not to let his thoughtfulness affect me, but it does. We’re not even together and this man can’t help but be considerate.
“So, you’ll have to excuse the formality of this.” He disappears around the corner, but is gone less than a minute. When he returns, a sleek silver laptop is tucked into his side. He stands to the side of the light being projected on the wall and opens the laptop. It must be connected to the projector, because when he taps on the keys the wall fills with an image.
Aiden and Sarah live happily ever after: A presentation.
I’m too shocked to argue or ask questions.
“Now, before we get started I’d like to address a few housekeeping items.” He taps a button and a new slide fills the space.
