Page 12 of A Lonely Road (Spruce Hill #2)
Chapter Ten
Jake
W hen Nora pulled into the driveway, I'd just finished mowing Mr. Jenkins’ lawn. I’d texted Sam earlier, warning her to take it easy on Nora—she wasn’t like Sam’s usual touchy-feely friends. My darling sister had replied simply enough: I do have eyes, you know.
Even if Sam was known as the bold twin, where I was the patient, subtle one, her eyes were probably even sharper than mine.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that Nora was as reserved as they come.
That snarky response from my sister reassured me that Sam was perfectly capable of adapting to the situation, but then she sent one more text.
Nora’s headed my way. Holy shit, she looks HOT today!
I’d been stewing over that comment ever since. Throwing myself into manual labor and yard work had barely taken the edge off of my anticipation over seeing her when she arrived home.
I took a steadying breath before she stepped out of the car. There was a certain look of challenge in her dark eyes, like she was daring me to make a comment about her outfit. In response, I simply wiped a hand over my jaw and smiled at her.
“How was coffee with the whirlwind?” I asked.
She laughed at the very apt description of my sister and absently rubbed at her forehead. “It was good. Apparently I’m being dragged out to some outlet mall in a week or two.”
It took a Herculean effort to force my eyes to stay on her face instead of wandering in leisurely appreciation from head to toe the way I desperately wanted to. My peripheral vision would have to suffice for now, and fuck me, from what I could see, my sister had been completely correct.
Smoking hot.
“Did she hit on you?” I asked, lifting a brow. I kept my tone deceptively casual as I pushed the lawnmower toward the garage.
“She did offer to steal me away from you, yes.”
“Oh?” The thought that Nora was mine to be stolen sent a surge of something fierce and thrilling through me.
“And I told her I’m not looking for a relationship. From either of you. A heads up might have been nice, though,” she muttered .
“You seem fully capable of holding your own. Besides, twins can be very competitive. Gotta let you make your own choice without coercion, right?”
Nora huffed. “I don’t want anyone competing over me, and I hate to tell you, but my choice is that I just want to be friends. With both of you.”
“Of course,” I agreed easily, but I let my gaze brush over her as I passed.
Holy hell. I barely managed to contain a strangled groan.
The dress hit mid-thigh, revealing full, smooth legs above the delicate sandals on her feet.
The generous flare of her hips gave the loose skirt a bit of swing, and though the neckline was disappointingly modest, my fingers itched to brush across the fine bones of her collar, to stroke over those pretty shoulders and trail down her arms.
Today, she looked wholly different—and I was fairly certain it wasn’t just the dress. Everything about her seemed less guarded, her eyes a little brighter, those full lips a little more ready to smile.
I hoped that I’d had at least as much to do with that circumstance as my sister had.
After tucking the lawnmower back into the garage, I paused on my own driveway. A strip of grass a yard wide separated us, but I could have sworn I felt the warmth of her seeping into my skin. Trying not to gawk, I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm .
“You look nice,” I said, tamping down on the litany of compliments whirling through my brain.
“You look hot,” she replied absently.
My eyebrows shot up as a smile burst across my face. “Do I, now?”
Her features immediately arranged themselves into an expression of horror. “Oh my god. I meant sweaty. Hot in temperature. I have to go now. Oh, god. Goodbye, Jake.”
Without another word, she spun on her heel and practically ran up the stairs to her apartment while my startled laughter rang out behind her.
“Just strike me dead right now, please,” I heard her mutter as she dug in her purse for the key.
“Nora,” I called, watching her fumble with the lock.
She covered her eyes with one hand for a minute, then finally peeked through her fingers to look down at me from the landing. “Yes?”
“You're looking pretty hot yourself.” I grinned broadly and saluted. Before she could recover enough to tell me off, I winked and disappeared into the garage.
Just friends, my ass.
No friend of mine had ever turned quite that shade of red over a misspoken word or two. I was willing to bet that Nora Cassidy had already veered pretty far off of the friendship path.
I sure as hell had.
O ver the following week, any awkwardness I worried might develop between us after that slip up never materialized. It seemed like Nora expected me to tease her about it the next time I saw her, bracing when I brought her a refill of root beer, but I made no mention of it.
Then, once or twice, I caught her looking at me in a way that made my blood heat, a way that made me want.
Still, she didn’t open the door to anything deeper and I didn’t push.
Just friends, I told myself again and again. Eventually, maybe it would sink in. Until that point, however, I was stuck fighting the stupid desire to smile like a fool every time she was nearby.
We fell into the habit of walking home together from The Mermaid whenever Nora stayed until closing time. On the days in between, she tended to show up closer to lunchtime, as though to prove to us both that she wasn’t rearranging her life to suit me.
It didn’t matter—I'd take whatever I could get. Those quiet walks had become the highlight of my days.
Slowly but steadily, I peeled back my layers of “don’t scare Nora away” protection: first by removing my hands from my pockets, then by gradually reducing the distance between our bodies on the sidewalk.
I never touched her unnecessarily, though I had to catch her elbow once when she stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk.
Even in the faint glow of the street lamps, I could see her blush, but when she didn’t immediately yank her arm from my grasp, I considered that progress.
By the time we were walking close enough for me to catch a whiff of her shampoo or lotion—something fresh and fruity, like peaches or pears—I was hooked.
“So,” Nora said one evening, “you and Sam own The Mermaid, but you’re also a bartender-slash-handyman and she’s also a realtor? Is this a family trait, being such overachievers?”
I laughed, but I was always pleased when she initiated an actual conversation.
“Well, our full-time bartender broke his wrist playing kickball with his buddies, and my part-timer is taking some evening classes this summer. Normally, I only do a shift or two each week to keep my foot in the door. I like getting to know our customers.”
“I’ve noticed,” she muttered, but she flashed me a smile.
Winking at her, I added, “Some more than others. Anyway, Sam does our marketing, but you’ve seen her energy level—she thrives on being busy all the time.
Like, really busy. Plus, she loves what she does.
She’s a good judge of character and gets a kick out of pairing people up with the house of their dreams. It’s like matchmaking, but with real estate. ”
She hummed in response. “Being a good judge of character seems to run in the family, too.”
“Why, Ms. Cassidy, was that a compliment?” When her hand shot out to give me a playful shove, I grinned. Conversation, compliment, and physical contact? Seemed like my lucky day.
“No, but I’m not oblivious,” she said tartly.
I waited patiently for her to continue, but the silence stretched. Finally, I said, “No, you’re not oblivious, but you were wrong.”
“About what?”
We had reached the stairs to her apartment, so she turned and lifted a brow. I didn’t touch her, but I let my gaze whisper across her features like a caress.
“When you said you weren’t good at being friends. You’re doing just fine in the friendship department.” I gave her a little salute. “Have a good night, Nora.”
She blinked at me in surprise before murmuring, “Goodnight, Jake.”
Our gazes locked, held, and I barely managed to keep myself from reaching out to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear. Her lips parted, her breath hitched, then she turned to jog up the stairs, leaving me staring after her in the quiet night.
One step closer, I told myself, but damn. It felt like a big one.