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Nine
“No, wait. You’re right.”Blaine paused to swallow at the thickness coating his throat, unsure of what he wanted to say here, only that there’d been this gaping, unacknowledged hollow in his chest for the last ten years. With Emilia around, that hollow didn’t seem so bad. “I’m being a jerk.”
She eased back, still staring up at him, the slow release of muscles across her face hinting at hope amidst uncertainty. “Yes, you are.”
A fragile smile grew on her lips, and she maintained eye contact.
Weakness ran through his body, and his own smile shuddered to life. Damn. After all these years…
After he’d just lectured himself about not wanting to talk to her. About hating her. He did want answers and didn’t want yet another of their interactions to end in bitterness.
She jutted her chin forward as if to gesture to the world outside the bathroom. “You’re amazing at what you do.”
Her compliment sent a shower of tingles over his skin, the hairs along his arms rising. Right about now, Wayne and Jacob would be finished unloading furniture, which meant he’d soon be alone in this house, in this tiny room, with her.
“I’ve been a carpenter for a long time now.” Added to that, he’d be a bald-faced liar if he said he wasn’t a little happy that a few pieces of him would be with her in this house.
“I remember.” Her shoulders finally relaxed. “I’m proud of you. You did it, Blaine.”
That’s right. He’d been an apprentice when they’d dated, and this was the first time she’d made a genuine and positive reference to their past.
A sincere glow lit her eyes. If she’d meant to avoid any awkward moments, she’d failed miserably. He felt like a gawky teenager standing before the most gorgeous girl at school, waiting for her to notice him. Except, she had noticed him!
He dipped his chin and rubbed the back of his neck, not sure where to go next. “So. Umm. How are you finding Harlow?”
The glow from her eyes extended to the rest of her face, and in turn, an instant warmth surrounded his heart. This was the first unabashed smile she’d worn in his presence and because of something he’d said. He’d missed that smile. A smile that held gratitude at his lame attempt at casual conversation.
“Actually, I love Harlow.” She stood taller and shoved at her curls, exposing the sweet roundness of her face. A feature he’d always loved. “Everyone’s been so helpful, and I enjoy having a place of my own. I’m hoping to get out and see more of the town.”
He clenched his jaw and held back an offer to show her around. Just making easy chatter here seemed like pushing his luck. Maybe he could be completely wild and aim for eliciting a laugh. “So, has anyone offered to bring over a hotdish yet?”
Her eyelids widened, and she jerked back a little. “A what?”
He pressed a knuckle to his lips and chuckled through his explanation. “If you’re lucky, it’s just a casserole made with various frozen and canned vegetables. But I gotta warn you, many people around here like to add lutefisk and cream of mushroom soup into that mix.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head slowly. “Lutefisk? As in, that jelly-like fish stuff that’s been re-cooked a bunch of times or something?”
“Broiled or baked, that’s the one.” His muscles relaxed at her theatrical grimace, followed by her crack of laughter—the reaction he’d hoped for and one that encouraged him to continue the exchange. “And has anyone told you, you’re supposed to refuse pretty much everything you’re offered at least three times before accepting?”
“Seriously?” She shifted forward, a good sign of rapt attention. “I thought that was just a weird thing Italians did. How many people have I offended in the short time I’ve been here?”
“Probably a lot.” He shrugged and then laughed when she clapped her hands over her eyes and groaned. “No. It’s fine. You’re a blatant out-of-towner. Most people will recover easy enough.”
She lowered her hands in a slow and cautious motion, her gaze sweeping over him and stopping at his chest while a defined silence drew out. What he’d do just to crawl into her mind and get a glimpse of what she thought. Having her eyes directed his way sent a surge of electricity through his veins. If things were different, he would step closer. Wouldn’t allow for any space between them.
Her attention flicked up, snagging on his. The rapid flutter of her lashes and her sudden slack expression brought strain into his body.
“Is everything okay?” The question broke free of him, lighting the knowledge of just how much he’d wanted to ask that. Just how much more lived in his seemingly simple question.
Are you okay being alone in this town?
Do you need help?
Are you safe?
Her shoulders slumped, and she tore her focus off him. “Blaine, you of all people shouldn’t worry about me.”
He winced at her quick dismissal, having only just gotten her to relax. “What if I want to worry about you?”
