Page 51 of All’s Well that Friends Well (Lucky in Love #2)

LUCA

When I leave the Delaneys’ house, I’m a mess. And yet, somehow…it’s a good mess.

I can’t even describe it. I’m sad and happy and heavy and light, more feelings bouncing around in my chest than I know what to do with.

The Delaneys and I agreed that I would still come see them for dinner a couple times a year. They were the ones who suggested this change, for which I’m infinitely grateful, because I don’t know how I would have asked.

I take a deep breath as I drive home, and the oxygen fills my lungs with ease. It’s a warm, clear night, bright stars and low humidity, and the scent of mountain pine drifts on the breeze.

I think I’ve never appreciated the very air I breathe until this exact moment. I’ve never appreciated what it feels like to inhale without the sensation of a boulder on my chest.

In fact, I’m not sure I was even aware of how heavy that boulder was. Of how fragile my ribs had become, trying to withstand the pain and the pressure trying to crush my body. My heart.

I let my head lean toward the window as I roll it down, feeling the breeze on my skin. Then, after thinking for a second, I make a phone call.

“Hello, Handsome,” Juliet’s bright voice says when she answers. “I was just thinking about you.”

My lips curl into a slow smile. “Were you?”

She hums. “I was. But I’m always thinking about you, you know? So it’s nothing new.”

A bark of laughter slips past my lips. “Did you know that you’re shameless, Miss Marigold?”

“I’ve been told,” she says. She pauses and then adds, “You seem like you’re in a good mood.”

“I am,” I admit as my pulse picks up. I take a deep breath, clear my throat, and spit the words out. “I’m headed back to Lucky. Let’s go for a walk.”

I’m not really a walking guy. I don’t take walks for fun. But…it sounds nice on a night like this, when everything inside of me is light—when Juliet can be near, her presence soothing and restful despite her never-ending energy.

“I’ll go on a walk with you,” she says after what I think is a surprised silence. “But you’ll need to ask nicely, and you’ll need to call me something other than Miss Marigold. ”

My heart skips a beat, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel. She’s taking a step forward, inviting me to come with her. “I can ask nicely,” I find myself murmuring, “but I get to choose what to call you.”

She hums, a sound that sends shivers through me. “Go ahead, then,” she says. “Ask nicely. ”

I bite back my smile as I turn into my neighborhood. “Will you please come on a walk with me?”

“Yes, obviously,” she says, and something about her voice brings to mind the image of her clasping her hands under her chin, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “When? Where? Is this a date?”

“This is not a date,” I say, and it’s mostly true.

I just want to walk with her. Whatever that is, I want to do it.

“It’s not a date,” I repeat. “So don’t get all dressed up.”

“You don’t want me to be dressed?” she says, and the car screeches to a halt.

“Good grief, Juliet,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’re uninvited if you say things like that.”

“Boo,” she says. “So I have to wear clothes?”

“You must wear clothes. Absolutely, definitely, you must wear clothes.”

A long, dramatic sigh filters down the line. “Fine,” she says. “Where should I meet you?”

“I’m pulling into my driveway,” I say, trying to calm my racing pulse. “Just head toward my house and I’ll meet you partway.”

“And you’re sure I have to?—”

“I’m sure,” I say firmly. “And I’m hanging up now.”

By the time I’ve parked in the driveway and loosened my collar buttons, I’m able to breathe a little better, and my heart has stopped pounding.

Electricity still leaps in my chest at the thought of seeing Juliet, though, so I give myself a second before I start walking in the direction of her house.

About halfway there, I spot her—I would’ve known it was her even during the light of day, even with my glasses off, and even though she’s not dressed in her usual feminine outfit.

There’s something about the way Juliet moves that’s unique.

It’s a light, lilting walk, graceful and whimsical and wholly her own.

When she rounds the street corner and into view, passing beneath a street lamp, my mouth goes dry; I swallow and clear my throat before resuming my normal stride as we approach each other.

She has on a plain black tank top and gray sweatpants, and her hair in in a messy ponytail instead of smoothly curled.

She’s completely casual tonight, apparently—and undeniably sexy.

She has to know. Doesn’t she? She must know the effect she has—on anyone who sees, probably, but also on me. The way my pulse whooshes in my veins, the way my hands itch to touch her.

Am I so easily seduced? Or is it just because it’s her?

I shove my hands in my pocket and keep moving toward her, something soft and warm growing in my chest as her face lights up with a smile.

“Mr. Slater,” she says primly when I’m close enough to hear.

I shake my head. “You can’t call me that right now.”

She sticks that stupid bottom lip out. “But isn’t it kind of fun?” she says, closing the rest of the space between us with a skip and a hop. Then she bats her eyelashes up at me. “It’s sort of sexy, isn’t it?”

It really, really is. “It is not,” I say. I raise my brow. “Are we walking?”

“We’re walking,” she says as her pout turns into a genuine smile. “Where?”

I shrug, my hands still crammed into my pockets. “Anywhere you want.”

“Mmm,” she says, looking up and down the street, dark save for the lamps. Then she nods to our left. “This way.” She begins walking immediately, and I follow, watching her from behind like a creep.

I hurry to catch up to her, because I’m not actually being weird. It’s just…she looks different today. She feels different. And yet I have a suspicion that it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.

“So,” Juliet says, looking over at me as the warm breeze plays with her ponytail. “Here’s what we should do.”

I don’t even know what she’s talking about, but whatever it is, I’m ready. So I nod. “I’m listening.”

“First, we should hold hands,” she says, surprising me as she reaches for me, looking expectant.

I blink at her outstretched hand and hesitate for only a second. Then I intertwine my fingers with hers, trying not to startle at the feeling.

Warm. Soft. Comfortable. Familiar.

Juliet nods, a little smile curling over her lips. “Excellent,” she says. “That’s number one. Number two, you should create a monthly incentive program for the sales team. I’ll also help you draft an email about the issues this branch has been having, just to see if a frank conversation will help.”

I’m still stupidly fixated on the press of her palm against mine, but I do manage to follow what she’s saying.

I clear my throat to get my head on straight and then speak.

“I thought the same thing,” I say. “Laying out the situation for the employees again. I tried before but it didn’t seem to help.

We can get that ball rolling tomorrow morning. ”

“Tomorrow morning,” she says, looking down at our clasped hands. Then her gaze swings up to mine. “At which point we will officially be dating?”

I stop in place, and she does too. She turns to me, tilting her head.

“You’re holding my hand,” she says, the night shadows shifting over her features as she speaks. “That means something to me, and I know it means something to you.”

I sigh, because she’s right, and I guess we need to talk about it. “I spoke to Maura’s parents earlier,” I say. Even as I let go of the words, they feel lighter than I expected. “I told them about—about everything that happened.” Then, swallowing, I go on, “It went…well.”

Juliet’s brows twitch a bit higher, waiting for me to continue.

“They like you,” I tell her with a grudging smile.

And even though I know this isn’t what she expected to hear, her eyes brighten. “Do they? Did you tell them about me?”

Heat creeps up my neck, probably a red flush over my skin. “Just in passing,” I mutter, looking forward again and resuming our stroll.

Juliet joins me, but she’s not looking forward; she’s skipping along beside me, my hand now clasped in both of hers.

“Did you tell them I’m delightful?” she says, and even though my gaze is fixed ahead of me, I can see her joy in the corner of my vision.

“Did you tell them I’ve swept you off your feet? ”

“I told them you’re a pain,” I grumble, wincing as her grip on me grows tighter. I hesitate and then tell the truth. “But yes, I told them that you’re sweeping me off my feet all the same.”

She hops into my path and beams up at me. “You like me,” she says. Then she scrunches up her face and lowers her voice in mocking imitation of mine. “‘I’m never going to fall in love with you, Miss Marigold.’ That’s what you said. But look at us now!” Her smile is back. “You like me. Say it.”

“I’m interested in you,” I correct her. “I find myself thinking about you. I want to get to know you better. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Boo.” She pouts. “You’re no fun.”

I shrug. “Would you rather be led on only to reach a dead end? What if you and I end up being incompatible?” I point out. “What if we get to know each other better and decide we’re not a good fit?”

She heaves a dramatic sigh, and I force my gaze away from the rise and fall of her chest.

“I suppose you’re right,” she says. She pauses and then looks at me. “So…what now?”

“Now we spend time together,” I say.

“We’ve been spending time together.”

I nod. “We keep doing that.”

“On dates?” she says eagerly. She’s practically bouncing on her toes—because she’s excited.

Someone this full of light, this clever, this good, is genuinely excited. To date me .

I don’t understand. I don’t understand at all.

But my lips twitch all the same. “Dates are part of it, yes.”