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I shouldn’t have gone to the meeting, but my curiosity got the better of me. I knew I’d see Juliette there. My steps falter when I recall her green eyes sparkling as she whispered next to me during the meeting. I wanted to do more thantalkwhen I looked down at her, that’s for sure. But getting close to Juliette would be a mistake. Trusting anyone but family has always been a mistake for me.
Not to mention the fact that Juliette is clearly hiding something. Her admission about her nickname, the way she’s always on guard, and that haunted look in her eyes when we left the meeting all combine to make up someone with a whole slew of secrets that I have no business uncovering. Even if my protective instincts multiplied by ten looking at her last night, it would be foolish of me to try to get involved.
I pick up my speed, dodging the ambling neighbors enjoying the sunset. My main objective is to complete this run to be able to tell Grayson I fulfilled my end of the bargain. There’s no need to stop to enjoy the sunset; the sunrise over the lake is better anyway.
I jog the final stretch of my usual trail, but I halt when I see Juliette outside. She’s lying on her stomach on a picnic blanket by the lake. Her attention is focused on the book in her hands as she kicks her bare feet absentmindedly. Murphy is sprawled out beside her, sleeping. I swallow as I approach her, my throat feeling tight.
The warm hues of the setting sun make her look ethereal in her cream sweater and cuffed jeans. Her blonde hair resembles spun gold and it’s a breathtaking view. I’m once again struck by how soft and sweet she looks. Her head turns and I’ve been caught staring. The sunny grin she gives me makes my heart give an odd thump in my chest.
“This is a rare sight,” she calls out, not moving from where she’s splayed out on the blanket. It feels awkward staring down at her like this, so I take a few steps forward and sit down in the grass beside her blanket.
Her grin widens and I feel as though I’ve fallen into some sort of trap.
“What do you mean?” I ask as she shuts her book.The Great Gatsby,the same book she was reading in the café. The spine is fraying and the copy looks like it’s been bent open and folded over several times. I haven’t read it in years, but I have a sudden urge to pick it up again and see what the woman beside me finds so enthralling about it.
“You’re usually not home until much later, sometimes I’m in bed when I hear your car pull in.”
An image of Juliette curled up in those satin pajamas of hers flits through my mind and I sink my hand into the grass and dead leaves beneath me in an effort to combat the image and the feeling it evokes.
“I decided to leave work early today, enjoy the weather.”
She hums and props her chin in her hand, her green eyes scanning me. I get the feeling that she can see through my lie, but she says nothing to confirm my suspicions.
“What do you do for work?”
“I run a private security company.” No point in lying to her about what she could easily find out if she googled my name.
“That’s close to what I guessed,” she says, smiling as though she won a secret game with herself.
“What did you guess?” I pick at the blades of brown grass, trying to look less curious than I actually am.
“I thought you might be in the CIA.” My hand stills. There is no way she justguessedthat. “Oh, or the FBI. Either one.”
“Why would you think that?” I rely on the very training she assumed I’ve had to keep my voice level.
She pushes up onto her knees and shrugs.
“You’ve got this wholeI keep secrets for a livingvibe.” She gestures my way as if it’s obvious. Murphy stirs, lifting his head and plopping it onto her legs. She pats him with an unguarded affection that warms my chest.
There’s a lot of mystery surrounding Juliette, but even so, moments like this soften me toward her. I wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of her affectionate ways …No. I can’t go there. No matter how tempting it is staring at her windswept hair and soft smile.
“What do you do?” I ask instead of responding to her observation of myvibe.
“I run my own stationery company,” she says with a bright grin that shows how much she loves her job. “I design wedding invitations and stationery sets and sell them online.”
The sun has dipped below the trees now, taking the golden rays with it. Juliette pushes the rest of the way up to standing and tugs her quilt out from under a disgruntled Murphy. He huffs and trots off toward her back deck. I stand up as well but don’t make any move to leave.
“Stationery sets? Do people even write letters anymore?” I ask as she shakes out the blanket, leaves and grass catching in the breeze.
“You’d be surprised how many people buy them. Though I will admit it’s a bit of a lost art.” A wistful smile tips up her lips and she hugs the quilt to her chest, staring off toward the lake. “There’s just something about a handwritten letter. It shows this level of care and thought that can’t be captured in an email or text.”
“I don’t know if anyone has ever written me a letter,” I say and immediately regret the admission. It sounds like I’m askingherto write me one. This is what I get for trying to make conversation. I’m going to blame Grayson for this, even if he’s not here.
“I haven’t received many myself.” She folds her blanket up, still staring out at the lake. “That’s partly why I started the company, to bring back something lost. But I also love calligraphy, which lends to designing invitations. Those are my most purchased products.”
“If any of my brothers get married, I’ll point them to you,” I say and her whole expression brightens.
“That’s sweet of you, thank you, Adrian.”
