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So even though I'm tired after another fun day with Hunter, Nana Jo's house isn't going to organize itself.
I figure my progress will slow down considerably since I'll be busy most days with Hunter. But every little bit helps, so here I am, sipping a delicious iced chai and sorting through what amounts to be a lot of old appliance manuals, bank statements, insurance papers. At least so far.
My phone vibrates again, and I reach for it blindly. I swipe open my notifications, surprise tipping up the side of my mouth at the four text messages on my screen.
Nova: Are you home?
Nova: Because I am
Nova: At your home, I mean
Nova: Open the door, sweetheart
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, dragging them across as I think of how I want to respond.
Nova: If you're playing hard to get, it's working
I laugh outright now, my fingers flying across the screen before I even realize it.
Me: I wasn't but I kind of want to now
Nova: let me in. I've missed you
Me: what if I'm not home?
Nova: if you're not home, then you're being robbed by some Taylor Swift fans. I can hear the music from outside.
I set my phone down and pad down the hallway to the front door, barely able to contain my grin. I open it, delighted to see Nova on my front porch. He looks like he stepped off of a magazine photoshoot.
Dressed in ripped jeans, a faded olive green tee, and his leather kutte. Several day-old scruff covers his jaw, hair messy like he spent the last few minutes running his fingers through it.
He's leaning against the side of the door frame with one palm, and he lifts his gaze at the sound of the door. One half of his mouth curls into a sly grin, his eyes practically twinkling with mirth.
He holds up a brown paper bag of something greasy, areas on the sides growing dark in a few spots.
“Hey, sweetheart. Gonna invite me in?”
I lean my shoulder against the doorframe on the inside of the house, folding my arms across my chest and crossing one ankle of the other. I tap the pad of my index finger against my bottom lip and pretend to think about it.
“Decisions, decisions.”
His smile grows wider. “I learned my lesson about doughnuts, so this time I brought something better. French fries.”
My stomach growls, betraying me so quickly at the idea of our favorite food.
I push off the frame and nudge the door open wider with my bare toe. “Well, why didn't you say that?”
“Lead with fries next time, got it.” He steps into the house, closing the door behind him and flicking the lock.
“Oh, so there will be a next time?” I ask over my shoulder, walking toward the kitchen. This is still so new,
“Definitely. Sometimes I have to run some errands for work. It's not often, but it happens.”
“That's some errand,” I mutter as I pull some dipping sauces out of the fridge.
“Hey,” he says, his fingers circling my wrist as I reach for the ketchup.
I startle, not realizing that he moved so quickly.
