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“We should get started,” he says, voice low. He glances my way as he says it.
I reach for the top of the stack. “Right. I thought I'd go through all this stuff. It's mostly recipes Nana Jo pulled out of magazines and random pieces of mail. As tempting as it is to just toss all of it, I want to go through and sort everything. Just to make sure I don't accidentally throw away a photo or family recipe or something.”
He moves to stand across from me. “Makes sense to me.”
We sort through papers in comfortable silence, organizing the chaos together to the sounds of soft music coming from the record player.
“What about this?” He holds up a manila envelope, sealed shut with thick black tape. My name scrawled in Nana Jo's handwriting across the front.
My heart begins to beat faster as I take it and turn it over in my hands, feeling the weight of the contents inside.
I look up at Bane, whose eyes are already on me. His expression is intense, brows drawn in tight. “What is it?”
“I'm not sure. I've never seen it before.”
He slides a pocketknife from his pocket, thumbing it open and leaning over the counter in a move too quick to track. A flick of his wrist, and the black tape parts.
“Oh, thanks,” I murmur. I peel back the envelope and peer inside. “It's a bunch of cards.”
I pull one out at random, an illustrated giraffe wearing a birthday hat on the front and my name scrawled in unfamiliar handwriting inside. That’s it.
Confusion weighs my brow down.
“I don’t get it. Where did these come from?”
“Maybe your grandma bought one of those huge boxes of greeting cards and wrote a bunch out for future birthdays,” he muses.
“Yeah, maybe.” It doesn't really look like Nana Jo's handwriting, but it's hard to tell. I stuff the card back inside the envelope and set it on the top of another stack.
“Old receipts? Keep or toss?” He pinches some paper between his index finger and thumb, holding it up for me to see.
“Oh, uh, I guess toss. Unless it's from this past year, because I'm still a little confused about some of the details Mr. Robert told me.”
“I can help you if you have any questions. I oversee the books at the clubhouse.”
“Oh, that would be great.” Butterflies stir in my belly, their soft wings fluttering against my insides. I tilt my head to the side, locks of fallen hair brushing against my shoulder. “You sure you're not my knight?”
He smirks and shakes his head, dismissing my comment. “Where are the garbage bags? I'll take care of the trash pile for you. You probably don't know this, but Rosewood takes their recycling pretty seriously.”
“Ah, yes, I did know that. Bags are behind you, under the sink,” I tell him, pointing toward the cabinet where Nana Jo put all her cleaning supplies. “I used to spend all my summers here when I was younger.”
He turns around and bends over to sort through the cabinet. “I feel like I would've remembered seeing you around town.”
I completely miss whatever it is he said, drowned out over the sound of my heart beating too fast at the sight of him.
Becausedamn. The man can wear the hell out of a pair of jeans. Honestly, how can he even move so easily in jeans that tight.
He stands up, and my gaze snaps to his. I can feel the heat my cheeks are radiating, even though I'm pretty sure he didn't catch me.
I swipe my tongue over my lips. “What?”
He smiles, his plump lips spreading wide into a genuine grin. He lets his gaze rake over me. “I said I feel like I would've remembered seeing you around town.”
“Would you?” It's a whispered challenge, one that slips out before I even realize it.
22
NOVA
