Johnnie Alexander

“How about going into town for lunch? My treat.” “With you? No.” “This may surprise you,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice, “but I’m not my grandfather.” Shelby gazed at the broken swing. “Uncle Richard told me you’ve owned this house about five or six years.” “Six.” “What exactly did you do different than your grandfather?” A wounded frown replaced AJ’s amiable smile, and his eyes brimmed with pain. Regret gripped Shelby’s heart. She’d meant the words to sting a little, but not to cut. She opened her mouth to apologize, but he turned on his heel and headed toward his Jeep before she could say a word. Opening the driver’s door, he glared at her over the roof. “See you at the signing.” “I didn’t mean—” “I think you did.” He disappeared into the Jeep and started the ignition. As the vehicle bounced down the lane, Shelby’s heart jolted. It was as if she were fourteen again, as lonely and abandoned as the house behind her.”
― Johnnie Alexander, Where She Belongs

“May I give you a ride?” Of all people. “What are you doing here?” AJ shrugged. “Thought you might want to treat me to supper.” “Why would I want to do that?” “It’s your turn.” She almost smiled. Almost. But his expression told her she hadn’t hid her amusement soon enough. “I’m mad at you.” She meant to sound mad, but somehow the words came out pouty, almost flirtatious. “What did I do now?” His tone made it clear he wasn’t taking her supposed anger very seriously. “The gravel.” “Oh.” He drew out the syllable and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I told you not to.” His eyes, dark pools beneath the bill of his cap, looked mischievously into hers. “But I bet you’re glad I did.” He”
― Johnnie Alexander, Where She Belongs