Things had pretty much gone as expected at Olivia’s school, aside from the fact the front-office secretary had let it slip that a substitute was filling in for her this morning due to a personal matter, and the flowers would be waiting in her classroom upon her return. She’d followed it up with a “But I’m not supposed to tell you that.” Although he hadn’t wanted to press, he’d overheard a woman at another desk comment that Olivia was expected to be back around third hour.

At least that confirmed Olivia had made it safely back from New Madrid, a worry that had crossed his mind once or twice when she’d not returned his three calls.

Those few minutes in the truck were starting to feel like a dream, like the best dream he’d ever had. It wasn’t just her kiss or the brush of her body moving against his. Sure, he’d not experienced that in a long time, and he was overdue. Way overdue. His body was stirring to life like a long-slumbering volcano. But something bigger, more meaningful had awoken in him as a result of their conversation, her honesty, and their laughter.

If she’d had a change of heart, he’d accept it. But in those few hours together, he’d felt a connection stronger than anything he’d imagined could’ve happened in that short time span. And he was almost certain she’d been just as moved as him.

He pulled into the High Grove Animal Shelter parking lot and pressed down a wave of doubt that maybe he’d been wrong. Assumed things she’d not felt. Deep in thought as he was, he didn’t spot the Cruze backing out from behind a minivan until it was nearly too late.

Gabe slammed the brake pedal and tapped the horn as the Cruze continued moving toward the front rim of his bumper. The Tacoma jerked to a stop hard enough that everything on his passenger seat—his phone, a few receipts, and his sunglasses—went sailing to the floor. Thankfully, the driver heard the horn and hit the brakes fast enough to avoid a collision, coming to an abrupt stop with just a fraction of an inch of space between them.

He released a big breath—he could imagine few things he wanted to do less this morning than exchange paperwork and wait for the police to fill out an accident report. Through the tinted back windows, he saw the driver, a woman, wave a hand in an apologetic plea. Offering an easy wave in return, he drove in an arc around the stopped car and parked in an open spot a couple spaces down.