She nodded like she’d known that already and was glad to have it confirmed. I did not tell her about the moment before the kiss, the held breath, the stairwell, and what he’d said after. That was mine.
Paige looked at me over the rim of her glass. “He kissed you good,” she said.
I pressed my face into Wentworth’s fur. He tolerated it with dignity.
“Not asking for details,” she said. “Just observing. You have the face.”
“I don’t have a face.”
“You absolutely have a face, and it’s a very good face, and I’m happy for you.” She took a sip of her wine. “He’s a good man, Cara. I see him every shift. He doesn’t pretend to be a good man—he just is. That’s rarer than people think.”
I looked at her. “I know,” I said softly. “Especially now.”
My phone rang from the coffee table. We both looked at it. Jasper’s name on the screen, and the warmth that moved through me at the sight of it was immediate and embarrassing, and I didn’t try to hide it from Paige because there was no point.
She was already uncurling herself from the couch. “Go to your room,” she said, in the tone of someone issuing a reasonable directive. “And remember what I said. He’s one of the good ones. Let him be good to you. Don’t talk yourself out of it.” She picked up her wine and her crackers and pointed at the bedroom door. “Go.”
I got up with the phone in my hand and walked into my bedroom, and pulled the door closed behind me. Stood in the dark without turning on the light. Let it ring once more.
Then I answered.
“Hi.” His voice. I had not heard it since the landing, and hearing it now was like finding something I had been misplacing all day without knowing I’d been looking. “How was your day?”
“Long. I’m tired.” True enough. “The shop was busier than I expected.”
“Yeah?” A small pause. “You okay?”
I closed my eyes. The dark bedroom. The phone against my ear. Three miles of Oregon night between us. “I’m okay. Just a long day.”
“Okay.” He accepted it without pushing. “How was the morning, before the long day got started? Did you open all right?”
My heart kicked up a notch. He had been paying attention to what my Saturdays looked like. “The morning was really good,” I said, and let a little of the truth into my voice.
I could hear the smile in the silence before he answered. “Good.” Another beat, quiet and warm. “I went to the hardware store. Bought some lumber.”
“For what?”
“I’m going to build a bookshelf. Somehow, I’ve accumulated some books in the last few weeks. They’re in a stack on my dresser. It’s an embarrassingly large stack. That many books require solid shelving.”
I laughed—small and involuntary. “How embarrassing?”
“Come see for yourself. Tomorrow, if you want. I’ll be here all day. I’ll feed you and show you the river and show you the most embarrassing, sloppy pile of books you have ever seen in your life.”
I held the phone a little tighter. “I want to. I’ll come tomorrow.”
A breath on the other end of the line. Just a breath, but I felt it. “Good. I’ll be here all day. I’m off work.”
“Goodnight, Jasper.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well.”
We hung up. I stood in the dark bedroom for a long moment, the phone warm in my hand.Sweetheart… I wanted to be his sweetheart in the worst way.
Tomorrow I was going to see his face. I was going to sit at his kitchen table with coffee and the sound of the river through thewindow, and I was going to tell him about Eric. I wanted to see his face when I did. Paige was right; it was better this way.
I went back out to the living room. Paige was on the couch with a paperback from my shelf open in her hand. She held up one finger until she finished her sentence, then looked up. “Well?”
“I didn’t tell him.”
