Page 37 of Distant Shores (Stapled Magnolias #2)

Cappuccino on the table for you. Would probably go great with leftover cake.

Just a suggestion :-)

P.S. I like just about everything.

If I were a different person, on a different timeline, in just about any other situation than this, I probably would’ve completed the sentence how I wanted.

I like just about everything about you.

Seeing her reaction to the cake—the surprise, the faint blush—it’d done things to me.

Just like finding the note she’d left on my doorway had done things to my heart, making it beat wildly. I’d tucked it into my wallet with the others. Right beside a new punch card to the closest coffee shop.

Unless I could get my hands on an espresso machine, they’d be seeing a lot of me this summer.

I was smiling to myself, still thinking about the conversation with Ireland and Delly that’d gotten easier as it went, when Delly came running out of her bedroom, red-faced and sputtering.

“Delly?!” I asked, hurrying toward her, cringing when I stepped wrong. “What’s wrong?”

A door opened and shut before Ireland appeared, her brow pinched in concern.

“Delly? What is it?”

My sister opened her mouth, but then closed it. Opening it again, she pointed toward her room.

I started for it, but when I got to the doorway, I was yanked back by my shirt.

“ Don’t ,” Delly said, tugging again for emphasis. “Addy, don’t. Trust me.”

Exasperated, I looked from her to Ireland, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Ireland was in another shorts-and-T-shirt combo, her gaze calculating as she looked from the main bedroom, to me, and then to Delly. Then she rolled her lips together as her chest started to rise and fall in silent laughter.

Delly pointed an accusing finger at her. “You knew .”

“Sunday morning yoga is pretty standard around here,” Ireland said. “I guess you missed it last week.” Ireland shrugged. “I thought you liked yoga.”

“ Naked ?” Delly screeched. “What even is this?! Are my brother and I now part of a clothes-free cult? Did we enthusiastically sign a lease and sign away our clothes at the same time? Are we part of a nudist community now? Oh my God, I should have read the paperwork better. I just signed it! I didn’t really read it at all. ”

Delly turned toward me with an accusatory glare. “You read it! I know you did. You would’ve never let us live in a nudist community. You wouldn’t even take your shirt off at the beach yesterday! ”

My face heated as I flicked my gaze to Ireland, who was looking at me curiously.

“Delly,” I said, taking a pointed step away from her room. “What is it?”

“Miss Lenny, the lady next door, is in her side yard, NAKED. Buck-ass naked, Addy. At first, I thought she’d had a terrible accident or was having some kind of episode because she was just…

lying on the ground. I was about to rush out there, but then she…

shifted… and everything—and I mean everything —was there.

She lifted her hands to the sky, and oh my God. Why couldn’t I look away? Why, Addy?”

“Sun salutations,” Ireland supplied. “She does them with the sunrise.”

“Nude?!” Delly spluttered.

Ireland rolled her lips together again and made a slight “Mmhm” noise.

“Every day?” Delly asked. “Or just on Sundays?” Delly squeezed her eyes shut. “Why am I trying to cope with this or make it better? Goddamn my baggage! This isn’t okay! I won’t be seeing the bright side so quickly, dammit!”

Delly buried her face in her hands, and I patted her on the shoulder sympathetically.

The undeniable sound of a strained grunt came from outside, and I took a pointed step away from Delly’s room—and therefore the window—and ended up beside Ireland.

“This is why you took the other room,” I muttered under my breath.

“You’ll never prove it in court,” Ireland whispered back, looking up at me with a smirk.

Her face was bare, her hair wild from what I hoped was a good night’s sleep. Her eyes widened just a fraction as she looked away and ran her hand through her hair .

It didn’t help, which was good, because she didn’t need it.

Delly stomped through her bedroom and into her bathroom, muttering to herself, and then Ireland disappeared too.

There was the slightest hesitation when she opened her bedroom door, and I imagined her finding the note.

Suddenly self-conscious, I walked into my bedroom and left the door cracked, listening as Ireland came back out a couple minutes later and went into the kitchen.

I imagined her finding the cappuccino, hoping it made her smile. Made her day ahead a little better.

Would she write me a note back if I was in there? Did watched Irelands write?

Maybe not.

I eased my door shut, then sat on my bed.

When I came in here yesterday, I could’ve sworn I smelled her lavender scent. Could it have stuck to the note like that?

I imagined her here, in this room with me, but cut it off with a shake of my head. There were a lot of ways to cross lines, and inappropriate thoughts about the beautiful woman living two thin doors from me was one of them.

The sound of her door to the bathroom opening drew my attention. A few seconds later, there was a clatter, followed by another. Then the showerhead of doom turned on and back off. Then it repeated.

A knock sounded on my own door to the bathroom, and I adjusted myself quickly, cursing my body for not getting the memo that we weren’t getting worked up over her.

Opening the door, I stilled, frowning at the empty bathroom.

Walking a couple feet inside, that frown morphed into an excited smile that reflected at me in the mirror when I saw the new sticky note stuck there.

Rushing forward, I ripped it off and read it with eager eyes.

How are stars like dentures? Both come out at night

I think I fixed the shower pressure. Let me know if I overcorrected it after your next shower?

P.S. The cake and cappuccino were perfect. Thank you.

P. P. S. When’s your birthday?

I stared at the note, my smile so persistent that my face ached.

Turning, I went back to my room and put the note on my bedside table, then followed her direction and took my morning shower.

It was perfect.

My persistent, raging hard-on that made me turn the shower from warm and perfect to ice cold and punishing?

That was a different matter.