“You go answer it,” I retort, more out of instinct than anything else. There are nerves in my belly that I didn’t have a second ago, and I suddenly feel embarrassed by my oversized One Direction T-shirt and flannel pajama pants.
Another knock sounds, and Ava’s eyes turn to slits. “Go,” she whisper-yells. “Don’t make me drag you over there.”
I groan but concede, finally standing up and rounding the counter to head down the hallway to the entryway.
Taking a breath as I head to the door, I wish I could exhale the nerves away—the nerves that make my insides tickle rather than feel like my stomach is twisting around itself.
Reaching toward the lock, I turn the deadbolt first before twisting the lock on the knob.
“Rumi?” I hear through the door, the low, gruff voice muffled through the door, but it’s a voice I’ve become quite accustomed to over the last couple of days.
“Hi,” I say, my lips curving at the way he says my name, how it falls from his lips so seamlessly.
“Let me open the door, okay? Once it’s out of the frame, it won’t be stable, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
There he goes again, saying things I thought only fictional men—or the centuries old vampires in my paranormal romances—say. “O-okay, um, go ahead,” I stammer out, backing up from the door, turning over my shoulder to find Ava watching me, the blueberry muffin batter and muffin tray forgotten in front of her. Evee’s watching me too, her curious eyes fixed on me, purple stains around her mouth and on her fingers from her morning snack.
Slowly, the door opens, and I see a large hand reach around the frame, pushing it slowly before grabbing on and lifting it to maneuver it and take it outside, setting it against the house.
Then, I see him.
Standing in my doorway, Jack’s dressed in a fitted black T-shirt and dark wash jeans. His signature work boots give him another inch or two, not that he needs them, and the morning breeze causes pieces of his damp hair to fall over his forehead, the freshly washed locks having more of a curl to the ends than when it’s dry.
He has a tool bag in one hand and a cardboard tray carrying two iced drinks and a small hot one in the other, the familiar Hey Honey’s logo catching my eye.
“I wasn’t sure what you ordered, but Luke was there and gave me your usuals,” he says, and I can’t help but notice how his eyes don’t quite reach mine.
My heart skips a beat at the thought of this man walking into Hey Honey’s and asking for help on what to order to bring over here, the thought alone meaning more to me than any tangible gift.
I’m about to say something, but he beats me to it. “And before you say I didn’t have to,” he says, my mouth slightly ajar, “I wanted to.”
And now I’m left too stunned to speak. This man has known me for less than three days and is already challenging every preconceived notion I’ve had about letting new people into my life.
“You catch on quickly.” A voice sounds from behind me, and I turn to find Ava who probably had enough of watching me embarrass myself, no doubt noticing that I’ve forgotten how to form coherent sentences, and came to save me. “Come on in,” she says, putting her hands on my shoulders and moving me aside, giving Jack room to enter. “Just take off your shoes,” she adds before turning to head back to the kitchen.
“Noted,” Jack says, more to me than Ava, giving me a smile and stepping inside and out of his work boots, setting his tool bag down next to them.
“Um, yeah, sorry. Come on in,” I say, awkwardly gesturing with my arm. The cool morning breeze coming in from our lack of front door does nothing to cool the heat that rushes to my face as I turn to follow Ava into the kitchen, Jack’s heavy footsteps following close behind me.
“You’re just in time to supervise Rumi with the oven,” Ava jokes as she puts the muffin tray in, closing the oven.
I let out a sigh. “One time, I forget to set a timer.”
“Don’t worry, Rue. I’m sure your mind was a littleoccupied?—”
“Jack,” I interrupt her, turning to our guest. “Thanks for coming by,” I rush out, finding my voice quickly, so Ava can’t embarrass me more.
“It’s the least I can do,” he says, pulling one of the iced drinks out of the tray and sliding it to where Ava is standing by the counter. “Luke said you do a cold brew with honey and cream?”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to impress me, Jack,” Ava says, taking a sip of her coffee, more truth to her words than the lightness of her voice leads on to. While Ava has been teasing me about Jack since I got out of bed this morning—or more accurately, since I went to bed last night—she’s gathering her own read on him.
She may not show it, but Ava is as apprehensive as I am when it comes to meeting new people, especially men. Because of her own history with abuse, she knows the signs and red flags as well as the charm and manipulation that often covers them up at first.
And she almostalwayskeeps them at arm’s length.
“Just trying to correct my horrible first impression,” he says with a shrug, not missing a beat, and I can tell by the look onAva’s face that it was the right answer. Jack turns to look at me, passing me the other iced drink. “And an iced dirty chai with almond milk for you,” he says before asking, “is that right? Luke had to explain to me what it meant to make a chai ‘dirty’.”
“It’s right,” I answer with a chuckle, and I swear I can see his shoulders slightly relax. “Thank you.” I take a sip, and it’s the perfect blend of creaminess and spice with a hint of espresso.
