Hell Without You

Chapter 5

"I'm ready to go." Clad in jeans, her comfiest flats and an oft-worn jacket, she felt casual enough for a day at Donovan's garage. A day of web-surfing, anyway. She carried her laptop bag at her side as she stepped into the kitchen.

"Okay." Donovan wore old jeans and a black thermal shirt that clung to his shoulders and pecs in a way that could've stopped traffic. He made the simplest things look amazing – he always had. "We'll get an early start, maybe head home by four or five. I can bring you home before then, around lunchtime, if you want."

She shook her head. "I'm fine with spending the day at the garage." No way was she going to lounge around zoning out in front of daytime programming again. "I have plenty of job hunting to keep me busy – after all, that's why I came to Willow Heights."

"Suit yourself." He pulled on a work-worn jacket. "We'll go out for lunch, then."

Go out. His words settled in the pit of her chest and made her skin tingle. What was she, fifteen? That was how old she'd been the first time he'd asked her out – for a ride on his dirt bike. Zooming down Willow Heights' rural roads on the old contraption, which hadn't even been street legal, had been a thrill at the time.

That'd been ten years ago. Her chest tightened as she remembered what he'd said a few hours ago, over coffee.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked, his expression betraying wary curiosity.

"I was thinking we could get lunch from Ann's Diner," she lied. "I love their French silk pie."

"We'll get whatever you want."

* * * * *

"Any luck?" Donovan asked as they sat across from each other in the back of Ann's, ensconced in one of the red vinyl booths that had been fixtures in the diner ever since Clementine could remember. From its rectangular chrome exterior to its black and white tiled floor, Ann's hadn't changed much since it'd been built decades ago, and that didn't seem to bother anyone in Willow Heights.

"Job hunting, you mean?"

He nodded and took a bite of the roast beef croissant sandwich he'd ordered.

"Well, it's too early to say, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I e-mailed my résumé to three different companies this morning. One of the positions I found seems like a dream come true." She took a bite of her French onion soup. "Of course, it's probably a long shot for a recent college grad like me."

"What about your internship?"

She'd been thinking the same thing, though she hadn't dared to say it out loud. Feigning casualness, she shrugged. "I guess we'll see if that helps." It had damned well better – she'd bankrupted herself to intern at the prestigious firm, throwing herself at the unpaid work in an attempt to learn – an attempt to pad out her meager résumé. Having worked part-time at a café throughout her college years wasn't the kind of experience the employers she wanted were looking for.

"Two slices of French silk," Donovan said to the waitress when she appeared. "And coffees."

"That's what you wanted, right?" he asked when the waitress had disappeared with his latest order.

Clementine nodded, her heart speeding at the thought of what had really prompted her to smile that morning. "This is weird, isn't it?" she asked, toying with an empty straw wrapper.

"What's weird?"

"Having lunch at Ann's. It's like ... before."

His gaze locked with hers. "I don't think it's weird."