Free Countdown by Heather Woodhaven Page A

“I thought you knew. When I first suggested you should ride with us, it just seemed the right thing to do, the neighborly thing to do. You had been a regular attender, we were neighbors, it’d save gas, be better for the environment—”
    â€œAre you saying that driving together is what the kidnap—” She shot a glance to the boys who happily devoured their meal while they forecasted who would win their next couch jump contest. “You think that’s why the man who came into my house said we were an item?”
    He shrugged. “I’m afraid it might’ve contributed.”
    She dropped her hands from her defensive stance and blinked several times as if digesting the idea. She took a step forward and accepted the plate of food while he poured them each a plastic cup of root beer. “I’m still not following. Why did you stop taking me to church all of a sudden? Is it because you knew this might happen?”
    â€œNo, of course not.” He sighed, wishing he didn’t need to explain himself. “Last week I overheard that new guy—”
    â€œCarl.”
    â€œYeah, the one you’ve been dating. I heard him tell you he wanted to start giving you rides.”
    Rachel cringed. “Dating? We went on one date. And he did say that, but did you eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation?”
    His jaw tensed at her tone. “I hardly call being in the lobby of the church with a coffee eavesdropping. Half of the people in the room likely heard. And, no, I didn’t hear the rest of the conversation.”
    She flushed. “Just because he asked me didn’t mean I’d automatically say yes.”
    He held his hands out. “You’re dating him, so I assumed—”
    â€œAgain, not dating him. It was one dinner. And since when do you assume something like that? I’m not trying to be rude, but I’ve never known you to do that.” She tilted her head, confusion creasing her forehead.
    He pulled back. “I’ve been told I don’t always pick up on signals very well.”
    â€œBy whom?” she pressed.
    Every woman in his life flashed through his thoughts. That probably wouldn’t be a helpful thing to say, though. “My mom pointed out that two single people driving to church together would give the appearance of dating.” He waved a hand between them.
    She pulled her chin back and curled her lip. “You went to your mom about this?” Her tone belayed her disbelief.
    â€œNo, I didn’t go to my mom about this.” He mimicked her tone. “I happened to mention on one of our Sunday phone calls that I was car-pooling with my neighbor to church.”
    She cocked her head and her eyes softened. “You talk to your mom every Sunday?”
    â€œStudies show it improves your health if you talk to your mom once a week. I have my theories about why, but—”
    â€œOkay, but back up.” She shook her head. “For the record, I like that you don’t make assumptions. I really do. Before now I thought of you as a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of guy. You’ve always been a straight shooter, at least with me. It’s refreshing and why I said yes to car-pooling with you in the first place. So I’m sure your mom meant well, but I don’t see why that should change just because you overheard—”
    The end of her sentence didn’t register. She liked he was a straight shooter? It surprised him. No female had ever appreciated that about him. Why did she? Because she liked him or, rather, liked that he felt safe? It was ridiculous to think she’d consider falling for a guy like him, a guy with a ready-made family.
    His thoughts shifted to her wondering why things should change. Because I’ve never been so drawn to you before, that’s why. I feel a jolt of attraction every time I look at you. He moved his focus to the bubbles on top of his soda