And I was avoiding it at all costs. So then, why was my thumb twitching to text her all about what the town had to offer? Why bother planting the seed?
There was a knock on the door. I jumped so hard, my phone flew in the air, but I fumbled to catch it in time before it crashedto the ground.
I looked around the room in panic, verifying that nothing incriminating was lying around. I scoffed at myself. It wasn’t like my thoughts of Claire had jumped out of my brain and lay strewn around the room like dirty boxers. It was probably just Pace. Regardless of sending texts, the man felt obliged to drive up every so often, especially after a storm under the ruse of some flimsy excuse. Last time, he said he missed Ripley and wanted to make sure she wasn’t missing him too much. I pretended to go along with it, secretly grateful that anybody was left that cared enough to check in after I’d been so shitty the past few years.
Nevertheless, I glanced at myself in the mirror and ensured I was properly dressed in jeans and a flannel. I ran a hand over my face and smelled my breath in my palm before finally opening the door.
It was her. She flashed a large smile, dimples popping as my blood started pumping. The sun shone brightly today and haloed her in light.
“Hi,” she said.
I opened my mouth, then closed it and swallowed. She was in simple jeans and another Henley, this one a light lavender that made her expressive brown eyes pop even more. Her long hair was down in waves that went past her shoulders, looking soft enough to sleep on. I held her gaze, fighting to keep from memorizing her figure.
“I just thought this would be easier than texting. You don’t seem like a big texter,” she said.
She was right about that, but seeing her after managing almost four days without direct contact well and truly assured me that I was crushing on this woman. And hard.
Her smile did something to my brain.
I hadmissedher.
Her gaze flicked behind me. “Sorry to just drop in, though. I know ‘the rules.’” She did air quotes as she said the last bit. It occurred to me that she texted exactly as she spoke. All the thoughts, none of the filter. It didn’t bother me, though. I appreciated her earnestness. Better than game-playing or subtle manipulation tactics. “I was just worried about Ripley. You know. Maybe she wanted to go for aW-A-L-K,” she whispered as she spelled.
I used the opportunity to look for Ripley to hide the smile, trying to break through.
A flimsy excuse if I ever heard one.
I hadn’t spoken a single word yet. Speak, man!
“She’s not a walker. More of a couch potato,” I said.
Well, that wasn’t the warm introduction I meant for. I could have gone with “I’ve liked texting with you. Even if it is mostly one-sided.” Or how about, “How are you? If you’re done with the story, then what?” Or maybe even, “I like working and knowing you’re just down the hill. I can’t stop thinking about you …”
But my short rebuff of her offer was great too.
I should take her into town. It wasn’t that hard. People did things with people all the time. That was how this living thing worked.
“Ha. Okay. That’s true. It is pretty cold still.” She rocked back on her heels and thumbed back to the cabin. “Okay, well. I’ll let you get back to it.”
Any second now, the words would come out of my mouth.
Oh, for crying out loud, just ask her out.
I pointedly ignored the exacerbated voice of my mom in my head.
“Actually—” I said.
“Yes?” she said, instantly stepping closer, eyes bright with hope as they looked up at me.
I cleared my throat, heat burning the back of my neck. “If you’re bored, I-I—uh?—”
We both stepped closer at the same time when my voice came out much quieter than I meant. It was like it took too much emotional energy for me to form words at a normal, socially acceptable volume when I was nervous like this.
Her gaze flicked to my mouth, most likely to understand what I was saying. “I am bored. Dreadfully, incurably bored,” she said.
Her eyelids grew heavy; her mouth parted as her head tilted back to wait for my response. My whole body was too hot, my skin too tight. Why had she said “bored” like that? Why did it feel like she wasn’t talking about boredom at all?
I lowered my head a fraction of an inch. Her cheeks were so full of color, her lips softly parted and pillowy. Those dimples were barely visible. She smelled freshly showered, warm, and floral. A hint of toothpaste. If I kissed her lips, she would taste amazing. I wanted to kissher so bad.
