“Judging by your expression he didn’t tell you,” Jake guesses, eyeing her.
Natalie opens her mouth to speak, but awkwardness bubbles to the surface. She closes it. Silence stretches between them. She tries to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.
“May I, uh, come in?” Jake asks.
“Yes, sorry.” She steps back quickly, breaking her stare. She can’t tell if it’s the unexpected sight of Jake or his closeness that makes her heart skip and her breath forget what it’s supposed to be doing.
Jake gives her a slight shrug as he walks in. “Thanks. I, uh, brought bread. No wine, though. Game tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she replies, her voice coming out a little higher than she intends. She clears her throat. “Come in and sit down. Dinner should be ready soon.”
As he walks past her, she catches a whiff of his cologne—crisp and clean, with a hint of muskiness. The familiarity of it makes her pulse race.
Natalie follows Jake to the living room, where the trio is still on the couch, furiously pressing buttons on their controllers.
“Jesse,” she says, crossing her arms. “You didn’t tell me Jake was coming.”
Jesse doesn’t look up from his game.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” he replies flippantly. “I thought you might like another grown up to talk to.”
“No!” she blurts, way too fast and way too loud. The word ricochets off the walls like a firecracker, startling even her.
Jake blinks. “Okay…” he says slowly, the syllables stretching out uncomfortably before they drop into the silence between.
Natalie crosses her arms, then uncrosses them because that feels weird, and finally settles on folding her hands like a Victorian ghost. She forces the corners of her mouth into what she hopes is a polite smile. “It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turns and walks back to the kitchen, Jake’s gaze trailing her like a shadow.
The moment she’s alone, she grips the counter like it might float away and exhales hard.Get it together, she tells herself.You’re fine. This is fine. He’s just a guy—a sexy, emotionally confusing, mistake-of-a guy who brought a baguette. This is ancient history. Jesse cannot find out.
She turns toward the stove, her eyes trained on the bubbling pasta noodles in front of her.
Play it cool, she chants silently.Be chill. You are a chill, emotionally-stable adult woman.
Who is also sweating.
It’s not until she’s dishing up the meal, the warm, familiar smell of garlic and tomatoes hanging in the air, that something in her finally settles. She takes a steadying breath, straightens her spine. She’s gotthis. Be polite. Keep some space. No need to turn this into something messy.
“Dinner’s ready boys,” she calls. She gestures toward the table. “Let’s eat.”
She takes a seat at the table between Jesse and Pavel, trying to put as much space between her and Jake as possible.
Jake’s voice cuts through the chatter, low and hesitant. “This looks great, Natalie.”
She nods stiffly, not trusting herself to respond without sounding too sharp. “Thank you.”
Be cool, Nat.
They begin eating, the sound of silverware clinking against plates mingling with Jesse and Tristan’s boasts about their last practice.
“Where are you from, Pavel?” Natalie turns, examining him. His expression is serious, but his face hasn’t lost that boy-ish roundness yet. With his long, dark lashes lowered to his plate, he reminds her of a large porcupine, bristling with quiet intensity. Despite his size, there’s a nervous energy to him, a wariness in the way he keeps his arms close to his body, as if afraid to brush up against someone by mistake. His fingers fidget slightly at the hem of his sleeve, and his heavy-lidded gaze is watchful, assessing.
“Slovakia,” he answers, mouth full.
“Oh?” Natalie says. “And how are you finding Hartford?”
“Is different here,” Pavel says gruffly, swallowing.
