Page 8 of A Lonely Road (Spruce Hill #2)

Chapter Seven

Nora

H is eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas and my entire traitorous body responded to that flash of joy. It was adorable and aggravating, the way it made my insides flutter, but I couldn’t hold back another smile as he left the table to finish up at the bar.

While I waited, I drank the rest of my soda and reflected on everything that had happened since I arrived in Spruce Hill.

I didn't want to be beholden to anyone, especially not Jake, who’d seen me at my lowest already, but the offer of a place to work in peace was simply too good to pass up.

The Mermaid was clean, noisy enough without the chaotic energy of a dive bar—or the constant hassle of drunken frat boys who didn’t like to take no for an answer—and this little corner spot kept me from drawing too much attention to myself .

Last night had been an anomaly, and shockingly, I still felt safe there.

Each time I came in, I completed more work than I would have expected and consumed another delicious meal.

Tonight had been another aberration, thanks to Sam’s whirlwind conversation, but I could resist the temptation that was Jake Lincoln, especially if it meant getting my assignments done ahead of schedule. It would be well worth it for the productivity alone.

And if he felt guilty enough about his talkative sister to fix up my car, so be it. I wasn’t so shortsighted as to turn down that offer.

By the time Jake locked the doors of The Mermaid behind us, my nerves had taken that flutter in my belly almost all the way to nausea. We’d walked this same path together last night, but it was different now, wasn’t it?

We’d held hands, hugged as we said goodnight. What if he expected that again?

I had no reason to assume any ulterior motive behind his offer, but that didn’t soothe so many years of caution. There was pepper spray in the front pocket of my bag, if I needed it. I knew how to defend myself—and Jake was well aware of that fact now.

Right. No need to overreact. This man had been nothing but kind so far.

I was sure Jake felt the tension thrumming through me the minute he turned away from the door. Without apparent effort, he set out to soothe me—subtle, intuitive choices that most people wouldn’t even have noticed, but I was hyper-aware of his every movement.

Before we started down the street, he slipped his hands straight into his pockets and my shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, no longer worrying about whether he expected me to hold his hand.

Along the widest part of the sidewalk, he stayed a good foot away from me.

Once we turned onto our street, we had no choice except to shift closer together, but it seemed like he made sure not to brush against me, even accidentally.

Jake told stories about Sam to lighten the mood. As I laughed, most of my remaining tension evaporated and I found myself actually enjoying his company during the walk. When we reached the end of Mr. Jenkins’ driveway, he kept his hands in his pockets while he nodded to my car.

“You sure must love that hunk of junk,” he said with a grin.

I sighed and patted the little blue car affectionately—or at least, I patted one of the few sections of metal that was still blue instead of ravaged by rust. “She’s my baby,” I replied simply.

“Love conquers all,” he joked. “We’ll get her fixed up right tomorrow. Goodnight, Nora.”

He was already backing away toward his own driveway when I finally said, “Goodnight, Jake.”

Though I wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, I felt lighter, almost buoyant. For the first time since meeting Jake Lincoln, I stopped feeling like Spruce Hill was a mistake and had to admit that maybe, just maybe, it was the best decision I’d made in years.

S aturday morning dawned bright and hot, with the forecast promising a scorching summer day.

I stood in front of the low dresser in my bedroom as I tried to decide what to wear.

Shorts? The thought of standing in close proximity to him in my favorite cutoffs felt a little too dangerous, a little too much like tempting fate.

I could wear jeans—and sweat to death standing out there.

I cringed at the thought of Jake having to resuscitate me when I passed out from heat exhaustion, coming to my rescue yet again.

The inner war waged for another three minutes before I swore loudly and colorfully and grabbed a pair of cropped leggings off the pile I’d tossed onto the bed.

“Problem solved,” I muttered.

Outraged that I was debating what to wear like a goddamn teenager preparing for a date, I threw on the rattiest t-shirt I owned, an oversized tie dyed number I usually reserved for use as pajamas, and shoved my hair into a messy bun.

I'd put a six-pack of colas in the fridge when I got home last night, so I grabbed two bottles before heading outside.

When Jake’s truck pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, I was seated on the hood of my car with both hands clutching one bottle of soda and the other one beside me. Jake, curse the man, didn’t so much as glance at my clothes, simply flashed that dimpled smile of his.

“Morning, neighbor,” he called as he sauntered over. “You might be a tiny little thing, but I’m surprised the old girl hasn’t dumped you right onto the driveway.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and wondered if Jake could see the steam rising from the top of my head.

“First off, I am not tiny by any stretch of the imagination, so we don’t need to pretend otherwise.

You just happen to be ridiculously tall.

Second, if you continue insulting my baby, I’ll shove that fan belt right up your ass and drink this soda all by myself. ”

He let out a low whistle as he grabbed the other bottle off the hood before I could confiscate it, then swept a cheeky little bow. “My, aren’t we touchy, and on such a beautiful day. Please allow me to offer my most humble apologies.”

Those pretty blue eyes of his were dancing with mischief, however, which basically rendered his apology moot. I narrowed mine at him until he laughed.

“Very well, I’ll keep my mouth shut about this fine vehicle and her lovely mistress. Thanks for the soda.”

Though I muttered something uncomplimentary beneath my breath, a grudging smile tugged at my lips when I slanted a glance in his direction.

“Apology accepted, this time at least. Baby’s a sensitive old girl, and in my experience, saying mean things about her tends to lead to breaking down on the side of a deserted stretch of road in the middle of the night. ”

“How often are you out on a deserted road in the middle of the night?”

“More than once, let’s just say.” I paused to raise a quizzical brow at him as something occurred to me. “You have a bit of an accent, almost like . . . a hint of a southern drawl. Why is that?”

“Probably because I’m not from around here,” Jake said with a shrug. “I’m surprised you caught that. We moved here when Sam and I were fourteen, so it’s mostly faded since then.”

“Language and word usage are a huge part of my job. I tend to notice that kind of thing. Where are you from?”

His delight in the fact that I was asking questions about him was obvious. Even when he tried to hide a smile, that dimple peeped at me like a beacon.

“We grew up near Atlanta. My mom got transferred out here for her job before we started high school. Dad opened The Mermaid a couple years later. This town kind of grows on you, I guess. Both of us went away for college, but somehow Spruce Hill ended up reeling us back in. When my dad asked us to take over The Mermaid for him, that was that.”

Curiosity overtook my annoyance. “You two are twins?”

Jake heaved a dramatic sigh, though he seemed pleased I’d come around to actually engaging in a conversation. “Unfortunately, yes. I’m twelve minutes older, which is obviously the source of my superior wisdom. ”

I laughed, but Jake didn’t take offense.

In fact, he smiled at me like my laughter was a gift—then that smile warmed as his gaze traveled over me, like he saw right through my ridiculous outfit choice and still appreciated what was hiding underneath.

With all the force of a thunderbolt, I realized that maybe those two things were one and the same.

He liked me. Whether I was reserved or chatty, it didn’t seem to matter.

I met his eyes, glittering blue in the sunlight and soft with some unidentifiable emotion, then swallowed hard. He cleared his throat and straightened away from the car to grab a toolbox from the bed of his truck.

I hopped down off the hood, sidling a few feet away while Jake popped it open and started to work. When he asked for specific tools, I handed them to him without commentary.

“I’m impressed,” he said after the third or fourth time. “My only experience with an assistant is my sister, who would've taken ten minutes to rifle through the toolbox with every request, more to fuck with me than because she’s actually clueless.”

“That doesn’t shock me. She’s a trip.”

He shook his head at me and all my annoyance from that morning evaporated. We fell into companionable silence, punctuated here and there when I’d lean over to ask a question or two about the inner workings of the engine, eager to learn.

My father would've been proud.

I felt a twinge, missing the sound of his voice. We were due for a catch-up call, but he was enjoying his retirement boating along the Atlantic and was out of cell service range until he came back to shore.

After one particularly long string of questions, Jake grinned up at me. “Ah, Nora, I see that insatiable curiosity is another of your more intriguing traits.”

I flushed and turned away to put a wrench back in the toolbox. What the hell else did he find intriguing about me? I couldn’t quite decide if that was flattering or frightening, so I set it aside and made no further comment as he worked on the engine.