“Do you mean that?”
His eyebrows rose. “That I’d come with you?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah.” He looked a little perplexed, as if he didn’t know why he was offering, either. “Yeah,” he repeated more strongly. “I mean it.”
“Okay,” she heard herself say. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.” Why was she pretending? Of course she’d made up her mind. In fact—had there ever been any doubt? Trying to hide her perturbation, she offered, “But if I do decide to go... You can come if you still want to.” She’d tried so hard to sound careless, as if she were saying, Suit yourself, doesn’t matter to me. Instead...well, she didn’t know how he would interpret her invitation or the way she’d delivered it.
“Good” was what he said. Jakob’s eyes were unexpectedly serious. “We have a deal.”
So not what she’d expected from the evening. But...nice. Something warmed in Amy despite the caution she issued herself: if he ran true to form, her darling half brother was setting her up for a fall. The splat-on-her-face kind.
He was signaling the waiter and she understood that the evening was over. He had whatever he’d wanted from it.
She just didn’t quite get what that “whatever” was.
CHAPTER TWO
JAKOB SNEAKED A glance at Amy, who was gazing out the passenger-side window at the stark red-brown beauty of the Columbia River Gorge. She might be fascinated, but he suspected she was pretending. She was a Northwest native, and had seen the admittedly striking but also unchanging landscape before.
He couldn’t quite figure out why he’d insisted on coming on this little jaunt. His being here didn’t have anything to do with his father. In fact, he hadn’t talked to Dad since the one peculiar call. Just yesterday, his father had left a message that Jakob hadn’t returned. Maybe because he didn’t want to tell him that Amy was going to the damn opening—but maybe because he didn’t want to try to explain his own part in this, when he didn’t get it himself.
The one part he did understand was why he’d insisted on driving. Polite man that he was, he had walked her to her car the night they’d had dinner together. She drove, he discovered, an ancient, hatchback Honda Civic. He recalled running his hand over a rust spot on the trunk.
Two days ago, when they discussed final arrangements, he had suggested that his vehicle might be more reliable.
“Just because my car’s old doesn’t mean it’s unreliable!” she had snapped.
“We’ll be making a long drive across some pretty barren country. Not where you want to break down.”
“I didn’t break down when I drove down here from Seattle.”
He knew stubborn when he heard it. Unfortunately, that was one trait they shared. A family one?
“How many miles does it have?” he asked.
There had been a noticeable pause before she answered. “One hundred and fifty-four thousand.”
He seemed to remember muttering something that might have been obscene.
When it got right down to it, though, what kept him stubbornly repeating “I’ll drive” had been the appalling image of trying to wedge himself into the damn car.
When Amy had surrendered at last, she said grudgingly, “I guess since my car doesn’t have air-conditioning, it might be better if we take yours.”
His mouth twitched now into a smile he didn’t want her to see. For God’s sake, it was supposed to top a hundred degrees in eastern Washington this weekend! Imagining how they’d be sweltering right this minute made him shake his head.
Jakob suddenly realized she was looking at him, eyes narrowed.
“What was that expression about?” she asked, sounding suspicious.
“Just feeling glad we have air-conditioning,” he admitted. “It’s hot as Hades out there.”
“Nobody likes someone who says ‘I told you so.’”
Jakob grinned. “Did you hear those words coming out of my mouth?”
“Close enough.” Amy was quiet for a minute. Then she shrugged. “The glove compartment pops open every time I go over a bump. Usually the stuff in it falls onto the floor.”
“You’re telling me I’d constantly have a lap full of...what? Maps, registration, flashlight?”
“Um...hand lotion, dark glasses, ice scraper, receipts.” She pushed her lower lip out in thought. “Probably a couple of books, too. I always keep something in there in case I get stuck in traffic, or finish the book that’s in my purse.”
He flicked her a glance of disbelief. “Finish the book when? While you’re driving?”
She frowned severely at him. “Of course I don’t read when I’m driving! Just when I’m at red lights, or we’re at a standstill on the freeway. You know.”
He groaned.
She sniffed in disdain.
After a minute he found himself smiling. “Wouldn’t have mattered if you’d won the argument anyway, you know.”
Her head turned sharply. “What do you mean?”
“When I arrived to pick you up, you’d have been bound to have a flat tire.” He paused, that smile still playing on his mouth. “Or two.”
The sound that burst out of her was somewhere between a snarl and scream. “Oh, my God! I’d almost forgotten. That was one of the meanest things you ever did.”
This time his glance was a little wary. At the time, he’d thought it was funny. Funny was not, apparently, how she remembered the occasion.
“I was so excited when you emailed and promised to take me with you to the lake with some of your friends. I told all my friends how I was spending spring break in Arizona, and that my so-cool fifteen-year-old brother wanted to do stuff with me.” Her glare could have eaten a hole in a steel plate. “I showed my friends pictures of you. I didn’t tell them how awful you’d always been. I thought—” her voice had become softer “—you actually wanted to spend time with me.”
Jakob winced. He’d had no idea his invitation, issued via email under his father’s glower, had meant anything to her. By then, he had convinced himself Amy hated him as much as he did her and would be glad if something happened that got her out of having to spend the day with him.
She’d arrived that Friday and his father had fussed over her, sliding a commanding stare Jakob’s way every few minutes, one that said, You will be nice. Predictably, that had made his teenage self even more hostile.
Dad had just started seeing Martina, though it was another year and a half before they got married. She’d loaned her bike for the projected outing. When Jakob and Amy went out to the garage come morning, one of the tires on Martina’s bike had been flat. Examination showed a split between treads. He’d immediately said, “Wow, the guys are waiting for me. Bummer you can’t come.” After which he took off.
His father had suspected him but never been able to prove he was responsible for the damaged tire. Dad had worked Jakob’s ass off that summer, though, and he hadn’t objected too much because, yeah, he’d slipped out to the garage at 3:00 a.m. and slit the tire with a pocketknife.
“I’m sorry,” he said now, and meant it. He didn’t like knowing he might have really hurt her. “Teenage boys aren’t the most sensitive creatures on earth. Dad was