Those Cassabaw Days Read Online Free PDF

out over the way he came. “Let’s drive it on over and you can bring Jep’s truck back.”
    The smile she gave him was brilliant, full of hope, full of light.
    “Sounds like a plan. Are you all mechanics now, too?”
    He shrugged. “We’ve always done our own mechanic work. Trawler, trucks, cars. Started working on a project in high school with Jep and Dad. An old Nova. Never finished it.”
    “Do you still have it?” she asked.
    “Under a tarp in the shop.”
    Her smile was wide. “Well, you should definitely finish that project, now that you’re home. There’s good money in classic-car restoration.”
    “I guess so.”
    “So did you cut through on our old path to get here?”
    “Yep,” he answered. “The brush is overgrown, a lot of vines and oyster shells in the lane. I’ll take a machete to it as soon as I can.” He moved to the driver’s side, and Emily climbed in on the passenger side. How crazy was it that after fifteen years they were riding in the same vehicle?
    As Matt started the engine after several tries and put the Jeep into Reverse, Emily giggled. He backed up, then paused. “What?”
    “It’s so weird to see you driving,” she said, echoing his own thought. Then, she reached over and punched him in the arm. “Matt Malone.” Again, the dimple.
    As he shifted into First, he shook his head and he couldn’t help the tug of his lips. “Emily, I’ve been driving for twelve years.”
    “You used to smile and laugh so easily,” she said. “Such a hot dog, doing anything it took to make other people laugh.” From his peripheral, he watched her turn her head to stare out the window as they moved down the gravel drive. “Growing up just plain sucks.”
    His eyes fell on her now, and to the ink he’d noticed earlier on her shoulder. He couldn’t see all of it, but it looked familiar. Flower petals or something, floating away. Farther down her arm, he noticed another tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Before he could stop himself, he grazed it with his fingers. “What’s that?”
    As they bumped down the driveway, Emily turned her wrist and lightly touched the number inked into her skin with a long, delicate finger. “It’s the year my parents were born.”
    Matt nodded as he braked and shifted gears at the road. Pulling out onto the two-lane highway, the Jeep sputtered as it tried to catch a gear. Finally, it did, and he picked up speed and shifted again. “What about the other one?” he asked.
    Emily’s hand moved to her tattooed shoulder. “It’s a dandelion. My mom’s artist mark.”
    He nodded. “I thought I knew it from somewhere. Cassabaw’s welcome sign.”
    As Matt pulled into the Malone driveway, his damned eyes found Emily again. At once, questions flooded his mind. Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? He didn’t think she’d had kids. As he watched, her eyes followed the drive, taking in the sight of the big stilted river house Jep’s father had built over a century ago. Sitting beneath a canopy of aged pines and live oaks draped in Spanish moss, it was much like the Quinn place, only a lot older. He’d missed it.
    Matt studied Emily, from her ponytail to her shoulder, and farther down those long, tanned legs. Jesus.
    This was definitely not the same Emily he’d gone mud bogging with, or crabbing at the mouth of Morgan’s Creek. Not the same girl he’d lain on the dock with and stared up at the stars. This was a grown-up Emily. And they’d spent years apart. Strangers.
    “I’ll drop you off and pull the Jeep around to the garage.” Even to his own ears he sounded harsh and businesslike. Maybe it’d be best, at least for him, to keep things that way.
    Emily placed her hand on his, oblivious to his brusque dismissal. She squeezed. “Thanks, Matt. I’m so glad you’re here.”
    He glanced at her delicate hand resting over his rough one and had no words to answer her. So he just half grunted—a noncommittal type of answer to a statement he had no idea