would she ever bring a man home—not with her father causing the house to reek of beer and cigarettes. Especially not with the fact that privacy was a premium she couldn’t afford. Not to mention the fact that she didn’t want him to know she lived in the bad part of town…for some reason, that made her pride cringe.
Therefore, it was easier not to go there. That was why Ronan was her professor, so she would know that getting close was not only ill-advised but pointless.
“Do you want to grab a coffee?” Ronan asked as they finished up with the bookstore. He was looking delightfully rugged now, with hair mussed and shirt slightly askew. The bookstore was silent except for the quiet snore of Mr. Hart up front.
Audrey could all but hear the pounding of her heart and the fact that she very much did want to have a coffee with Ronan droning like a chant in her bloodstream. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so attracted to a man. He was smart, gorgeous, and hard-bodied. Funny.
Happiness is wanting what you get.
“I have to get home,” Audrey said with a perfectly practiced smile. “Maybe next time.”
But it was a lie. For the sake of her heart, there would never be a next time.
Chapter Seven
The most innings ever played in a Major League Baseball game was in 1920 when Boston played 26 innings against Brooklyn.
Audrey leaned back against the side of Big Red, breathing in the cool, early-morning air. There were only a few cars scattered throughout the parking lot for the Chinnery State Park, signaling she was one of a handful of early birds ready to seek out nature while the rest of the town slept the wee hours of Sunday morning away. Come rain, hail, snow, or shine, she met her best friend, Nicole, every Sunday morning in this very spot.
A familiar car turned into the parking lot, and Nicole pulled up beside her. A second later, she got out of her car, dark hair tied into a messy topknot and a silver thermos glued to her left hand.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Audrey said in an artificially perky voice, because she knew Nicole would hate it. “You’re looking bright as a spring sunrise.”
“We both know that’s not true.” Nicole narrowed her hooded eyes and groped around for the sunglasses perched on her head. She wore a pair of leggings with a baggy sweatshirt that said fries before guys. “And don’t tease the zombie. It’s cruel that you make me get up this early.”
“Come on, time’s a-wastin’, girl. Let’s hit the trail.” Audrey marched toward the entry to the reserve, ready for her weekly dose of soul refreshment.
A green sign listed the several trails that cut winding paths of varying difficulty through the dense, quiet forest. They usually took the long, easy trail that allowed plenty of time for their boots to crunch over the packed earth, snapping twigs and disturbing leaves, working up an appetite for the breakfast at Nicole’s place that always followed. The whole time, they talked, sharing triumphs and worries and excitements, cheering each other on with the kind of sisterhood that Audrey found necessary for survival.
The forest was peaceful. This was why they sacrificed sleep on a weekend morning—for the shift of light as the sun came up, dusky tones filtering through the tall oaks and pines, lighting the path ahead of them. It was for the scent of the leaves and cool earth, for the sound of heartbeats and breaths and birds tittering. She sucked in deep lungfuls of the clear air until her head was free of cobwebs and doubts.
“You’re always here first,” Nicole said, sipping her coffee. “I’ll need to start staying up the night before to beat you.”
Audrey laughed. “Maybe I’m more eager to get out of my house than you are.”
“Can’t say I blame you. The thought of sharing a bedroom with two teenagers gives me the heebie-jeebies.”
“The girls aren’t that bad.”
“It’s common knowledge—all humans under the age of eighteen are to be avoided.” Nicole was an only child who’d grown up without much family to speak of and had zero desire to start one of her own. “Although I’m sure you disagree with that, Miss Mother Hen.”
Audrey rolled her eyes. “I’m a nice person, so sue me.”
“Too nice.” Nicole shot her a look. “You put up with way too much shit, my friend. Speaking of which, how is your dad? Is he trying to be less of an