Picture This by Jayne Denker Page B

trying to figure out which part of that statement to attack. She ended up repeating, “Niall’s not my boyfriend.”
    â€œCasey was happy to hear from you just now, when you called to ask if he could put up Niall, wasn’t he?”
    â€œI talked to George, not Casey,” Celia said smugly. “And she was fine with it.”
    Â 
    Forty-five minutes later, Celia learned that while Niall hadn’t been kidnapped by rabid fans, neither had he made it to Bowen Farms. She heard the growl of a vehicle in the driveway and went out to find the Corvette idling there, Niall stone-faced behind the wheel. She sauntered over to the car and leaned in the open window.
    â€œBack so soon? Did they change their minds when they saw you?”
    She watched a muscle working in the corner of his jaw.
    â€œI never got there,” he admitted, not looking at her.
    â€œYou don’t say. Did you get lost?”
    â€œYeah. I got lost,” he mimicked in a sing-song voice. “Took a wrong turn somewhere—how should I know exactly what happened? Then I got stuck behind some beat-up pickup truck going about half a mile an hour—”
    â€œOh, that’s just Burt Womack.”
    â€œHow do you do that?”
    â€œI told you, I grew up here! For future reference, Burt doesn’t go any faster than that. Ever.”
    â€œI’ll make a note of it. Oh, and then I ended up in someplace called Whalen.”
    She winced at the name of the dicey neighbor town. “Ooh, what did you do that for?”
    â€œBelieve me, it wasn’t intentional. The horror, the horror . . .”
    â€œOkay, that I’ll give you sympathy for. Well, look, you drove in a big circle, but you didn’t get anywhere near Casey’s.”
    â€œI tried to call your cell, but of course it won’t work while you’re on this side of the mountain, or whatever. Tell your NIMBY father thanks for that, m’kay?”
    â€œDon’t judge,” she scolded, although she wasn’t the least bit angry. She usually felt at a disadvantage when she was around Niall, a little unsure of herself in the shadow of his sheer . . . Niall -ness. But being on her home turf was doing wonders for her self-confidence.
    â€œThen some roads started to look familiar, and I followed one I recognized, and . . . here I am. I have no idea what happened. What the heck, have you got your own Bermuda Triangle around here?”
    â€œYou’ll get the hang of it. You’ll have to, if you’re actually staying here for a while.”
    â€œHow many times do I have to say I actually am? Why don’t you believe me?”
    â€œThis is Marsden. Your head is going to explode if you stay here for any length of time.”
    â€œYou don’t know that.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure I do.”
    â€œWell, I’m going to prove you wrong. How’dya like them apples ?”
    â€œWow, you’re already sounding like a native. Congratulations.”
    â€œJust tell me how to get where I’m supposed to be going.”
    â€œWhy are you so bothered by this?”
    â€œI’m not!” he insisted, then took a breath and said, in a calmer tone, “I’m just . . . used to knowing my way around at all times.”
    â€œYou’re not just talking about roads, are you?”
    After a pause, he muttered, “No.”
    â€œSo you’re a control freak. Good to know. First a bunch of secrets, and now this little personality revelation? It’s been quite a day already.”
    His eyes slanted toward her, though he still didn’t turn his head. “Would we call this progress?”
    â€œDepends on what goal you think we’re progressing toward.”
    â€œWill you go with me to this Bowen Farms place? Please,” he added belatedly.
    She sighed. “Okay. Back up so I can get my mom’s car out of the garage. I’ll lead you there; we just have to make a small