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The sound of my name on her smiling lips is addictive. It’s a shot of whiskey with a honey chaser. A sweet burn that makes warmth unfurl in my chest, my heart basking in the sunshine of her presence. It makes me want to do anything to get her to smile like that again, to hear her inject pure kindness into my name in a way I don’t think anyone else has. My jaw clenches. I shouldn’t be having these thoughts.
“It’s nothing.” My voice comes out more gravelly than I intended. Her eyes search me once more, those intense emerald irises likely seeing more than I want them to. I clear my throat and take a step in the direction of my cottage. “Have a nice evening.”
“You too.”
I feel her watching me as I walk back to my house. My past career has made me well acquainted with the feeling of being watched, but something about this is different. For once I don’t feel confident in my measured steps and pushed back shoulders. I find myself second-guessing the length of my stride and wondering if the way I’m swinging my arms seems off to her.
Once I’m behind closed doors I shrug my shoulders up and down a few times, trying to rid myself of the unnerving feeling of beingseen. I laugh at myself, raking a hand through my hair. She’s not an agent, just a mildly observant neighbor. I’m being paranoid for nothing.
Telling myself that doesn’t stop me from replaying our conversation like an interrogation tape in my mind, trying to determine how much I gave away. Each time I do though, I end up getting sidetracked by the memory of her smile.
Chapter seven
Juliette Monroe
Aboutonceamonth,I convince myself I’m a better woman than I actually am. This usually occurs after watching too many self-help YouTube videos, the ones that tell me how to bethat girl. These videos convince me that I’m the type of girl who is going to wake up before sunrise, work out, drink green juice with a smile on my face, and write in my planner everything I want to do that day … thendoall of those things.
So, I’ve decided to be that girl today, and in the dim morning light, I am already regretting my decision. Working out right now sounds about as appealing as walking over hot coals, and the fact that I drug myself out of bed at all instead of hitting snooze is a miracle. My shoulder hits my closet door, eliciting a grumble as I balance on one foot, sliding a fuzzy sock on the other.
Fuzzy socks and oversized sweaters are not workout clothes, because there will be no working out today. But I will at least stay up and watch the sunrise. I actually think the sunrise is prettier than the sunset, but I hate waking up early. Murphy doesn’t even lift his head as I shuffle by him on my way to the kitchen. He doesn’t do mornings either.
I yawn as I fill up my electric kettle. Tea will make this morning better. It makes everything better. While the water heats, I look for a good strong tea. Something with caffeine to help me wake up. I settle on my favorite English breakfast tea and while it steeps I gather supplies to watch the sunrise on my deck.
I nudge the sliding glass door with my elbow and carry out the mountain of blankets and books weighing down my arms. My brain feels as foggy as a bathroom mirror after a long shower, so I doubt any of the books I brought out will be read, but they bring me comfort by having them near. Icy air bites at my face with a kind of ferocity that I’m too sleepy to deal with.
“Why am I like this?” I mutter under my breath as I go back inside to retrieve my tea. Floral teacup in hand, I return outside to brave the elements and try to feel like I am accomplishing what my past self set out to do.
The wicker couch I bought at a yard sale from Gerty is nice and cozy now that I’ve outfitted it with the majority of my throw pillows and the comforter from my bed. I burrow down into the blankets, trying to expose as little of my body to the winter air as possible. I’m so glad I ran away to the South and not someplace likeMichigan. I’d never leave my house with all that snow.
I lift my eyes to where the sun is beginning to rise above the treeline. Pastel pinks and soft blues tint the sky, making everything resemble a watercolor painting. The tea warms my palms and when I gingerly take a sip I start to think this early morning stuff might not be too bad. Peach Hollow has always been a place of peace for me, but in quiet moments like this, the feeling is magnified.
The sound of leaves crunching draws my eyes away from the sky. My breath catches in my throat when I see Adrian running toward his own back deck. His head is down, so he doesn’t see me snuggled up here. As much as I’ve loved talking to him the past few days, I am perfectly okay with him not noticing my existence right now.
My hair is in a bun on top of my head that resembles the stuffed hedgehog toy I got Murphy for Christmas–the one he ripped in half so that all the fuzz spills out. And even though I have on a giant sweater and three blankets, I’m not wearing a real bra, just a thin bralette. Somehow, knowing that is embarrassing enough to have me sliding further into my cozy cocoon, keeping just my eyes out. I set my tea on the ground beside me so I don’t spill it.
Adrian walks up his back steps, pausing on his deck and stretching his arms above his head. I watch, enraptured, as he does a few more stretches. In the back of my mind, I know it’s wrong to watch him without him knowing, but I can’t bring myself to speak up. Watching his muscles bunch beneath his tight running shirt has me incapable of speech.
His hand reaches for the hem of his shirt and my eyes get wide. He lifts it up and wipes at his forehead and …Oh. My. Abs.My mouth drops open and my brain shortcircuits. It’s only a partial view, he’s not even fully facing me, but I’m done for. Why does he have to look like that? He belongs in a museum, on a pedestal with a spotlight and a warning sign that says staring too long will turn you into a puddle.
Suddenly, he turns my way. I let out an embarrassing squeak and duck under my comforter. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath.Don’t see me. Don’t see me. Don’t–
“Juliette.” The warm humor lacing his tone makes my stomach do a little backflip.
Ever so slowly, I lift my very warm face out from under the covers. Adrian is leaning against his deck railing watching me with the faintest smirk on his lips.
“Good morning,” I say, infusing a chipperness I don’t feel into my words.
My hands shake as I lift my tea cup off the ground. I take a sip to give myself something to do besides blurt out‘You have abs!’like a starstruck teenager.
“Did you enjoy the show?”
I inhale a sip of my tea and cough it out with burning eyes. “What?”
Did I just blackout and wake up in an alternate reality or did Adrian justflirtwith me? I blink the water out of my eyes and scan him again, making sure it’s him and not his brother Grayson. No, this is Adrian. His hair is the same length, he’s wearing his usual running clothes, and even the way he stands is so undeniablyhim. So that must mean he really did just flirt with me.
He shakes his head, that gorgeous little smirk still toying with his lips in a way that makes me wish he would hop that railing and kiss me breathless.
“Why didn’t you say anything when I walked up?” he asks and I bite my lip.
