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Chapter nineteen

Naomi

“So, Robert, should we expect to see you at the second dealership grand opening?” Dad asks before taking a bite of his food.

“His name is Robbie, Dad.” It’s only after the words leave my mouth that I clamp it shut, realizing how forward it was of me to say them. An anxious heat blooms in my chest while I look down at my plate, feeling uncomfortable with my show of authority.

Yet, even through the sudden shame, I keep my hand placed firmly on Robbie’s knee. I cemented it there when I noticed him starting to struggle under Dad’s pressure, feeling an overwhelming need to make sure he was okay. I haven’t brought myself to let go yet.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can feel my dad’s stern glare fixed on me, assessing my boldness, before he redirects it to Robbie.

“If it’s all the same to you, I prefer Robert,” Dad says flatly. “It’s more sophisticated.”

“That’s fine,” Robbie cuts in, his voice steadier and more familiar than a few moments ago. “And yes, I wouldn’t miss it. It sounds like quite the event.”

“Mom, did I tell you about the side business I’ve started?” I ask, making a point to include her in the conversation. I always feel bad for the way he talks over her—the same way he’s always done to me.

“No, you didn’t. But that’s wonderful, dear. Tell us more about that. What are you doing?” she asks with an eager gaze.

“It’s a baking business. People are actually paying me to bake for them.” The look of pride that blooms on her face makes a rush of soothing warmth run through me.

“This hobby of yours…” my dad cuts in. “Are you keeping track of your expenses?”

His tone clearly displays his lack of confidence in my business sense, but at least he’s not admonishing me for doing something outside of the dealership.

“Of course.”

“And you’re allocating for taxes?”

“Yes.” Again, his stare feels heavy, and I almost crack under the pressure, feeling my resolve wobbling at the edges.

“She makes the best apple cinnamon muffins I’ve ever tasted,” Robbie boasts.

“That’s lovely, Naomi,” Mom says. “We’re so proud of you, honey.”

The look on my dad’s face makes that remark questionable, but I do my best to focus on the praise coming from mom instead.

“Can we do anything to help clean up?” I ask once I know they would consider it to be an appropriate time to excuse ourselves.

“Absolutely not,” Mom says, dismissing me as we all stand. “It’ll give me something to do tonight.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Robert,” my dad says in a cutting tone when we reach the front door, offering what anyone would deem a little too much strength for a farewell handshake.

“I’m looking forward to it.” I can see that Robbie matches his energy from the corner of my eye while I give Mom a hug.

“We’ll talk soon,” I say to her with a smile.

As we head down the sidewalk, my parents’ stares practically burning holes in our backs, Robbie offers me the crook of his arm in a show of support. I slide my hand down the length of his inner forearm slowly, savoring the steady comfort it brings—and the quiet hum it sends down my core.

As my fingertips graze the softness of his skin, I wonder what it would be like if this were real life.

If I weren’t walking away from my parents’ house with a friend-slash-fake-boyfriend but, instead, hand in hand with someone who adores me as much as I do him.

Someone who sees me on every level, cherishing me in a way that no one has before.

Except, this time…the image isn’t far-fetched and make-believe.

I can actually see it.

A life with him.

A life where he’s actually falling for me the same way I admittedly am for him. Robbie and me. The timid, small-town girl and the confident, unrestrained musician she has always trusted more than anyone else.

I can see a reality where it makes sense.

And that realization makes my mouth go impossibly dry.

As soon as we’re out of my parents’ line of sight, I let go of his arm, suddenly unsure of what lines aren’t supposed to be crossed and when.

We’re out of eyesight, so technically I’m not supposed to be touching him anymore, but my body tells me that I most definitely want to.

Is he feeling this too? I have no idea where his head is at, if it’s as much a jumbled mess as mine is.

“That wasn’t so bad, huh?” he asks once we start the drive home. I roll down my window and stick my arm out, letting it lazily cut through the humid air while I let the wind ground me all the way back to reality.

“It was just another day for me.” I rest my head against the headrest. “You tell me how it went for you. I’m sorry he brought up your family.”

He gives me a sidelong glance. “Yeah, he definitely isn’t going to win my favorite person of the year award , but it was good to see what a normal family dinner is like for you.”

We let the quiet settle between us as we drive slowly through town.

“Out of curiosity, who won your favorite person of the year award last year?” I tip my head toward him, keeping my back pressed against the seat.

“Harrison Ford,” he answers immediately.

I let out a laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that. Can I ask why?”

“ Indiana Jones , duh.”

“Those movies were from, like, a million years ago.”

“Badassery doesn’t age, Naomi.”

“Okay,” I chuckle as we turn into my driveway.

“Don’t get out. I’ll get your door.” He’s rounding the front of my car before I’ve even unbuckled my seatbelt.

“Thank you,” I say sweetly, grabbing his outstretched hand to climb out.

His hand brushes the lower curve of my spine, and for a moment, I involuntarily gravitate closer to him as I slowly brush past. In the next moment, I notice Mrs. Pelinski sitting on her front porch, and a surge of disappointment hits me.

So that explains why he opened my door and offered his hand.

“Hi, Mrs. P.,” I call across the yard. With a crossword puzzle in hand, she barely looks up but gives a distracted wave anyway.

“Do you want to sit out on the dock with me?” Robbie asks from somewhere close behind my shoulder as we walk inside the house—as if my answer would be anything other than yes. The idea of spending a quiet night on my dock with him sends a soothing wave over me, tinged with a flurry of excitement.

“Sure. I’ll get the tequila,” I offer.

We part ways in my kitchen as I grab two glasses and a bottle while he unlocks the deck door.

When I meet him there, he takes the glasses from my hands, and we venture down the grassy slope of my backyard to the long dock.

I follow him onto it, the wooden boards creaking under our steps.

The sky above the line of trees across the lake is painted by the sunset.

Splatters of bubble gum-pink and fire orange swirl together, making the colors dance in the sky.

“Which side of the bench has the best view?” Robbie asks when we reach the last section of the dock.

I snort. “They literally have the same view. But maybe this left side? You can’t see the obnoxious inflatable gymnasium in front of Sneed’s dock in your peripheral vision from here.”

He looks over at the inflatable in question while dropping onto the right side of the bench, of course leaving me the side with the best view. “Serve me enough of this tequila and I might go jump on that thing.”

I bite a giggle back while he pours us both a small glass, handing one of them to me.

“Cheers,” he says quietly, growing serious. He holds my gaze for a few charged beats, and I momentarily get lost in his eyes, feeling glued to them, unable to look away.

“Cheers,” I whisper before taking a small sip, the liquid burning my throat. I break our stare and wonder where his mind is at right this very minute. What he’s thinking about as he sits here on the dock with me, and wishing desperately I could read his mind.

“Isn’t it beautiful out here?” I sigh, relaxing against the back of the bench. Its sharp edges cut into my shoulder blades a little too roughly, but I don’t mind. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.

“Stunning,” he agrees, setting the bottle of tequila on the wooden boards by our feet. I don’t miss how, when he straightens, he slides a breath closer to me, enough so that our arms lightly brush against each other.

“Does stuff like this ever make you want to stay in Pine Falls?” I ask quietly, nerves twisting my stomach as I wait for what his response will be. “Nights like this?”

“Not the scenery, necessarily…but being with you does.” He doesn’t put any emphasis or emotion behind his words. Nor does he elaborate. It’s simply a statement that leaves my mind whirling in a million different directions.

“Yeah?” I murmur, daring a tilt of my head to meet his stare. There’s a simmering edge to his green eyes as he rolls his lips, pushing them together with force.

He gives a timid nod before cutting the moment with a sip of his drink.

I clear my throat and look back out at a loon that just dipped below the water.

Its movement causes a ripple of waves to disperse around him, the reflection of the sunset moving along with it.

I focus on the lake instead of Robbie, not quite sure what to make of this energy between us and certainly not confident enough to sway the trajectory of our conversation.

“Do you ever use that swing back there?” he asks out of nowhere.

I arch my neck to peer back toward my house. There’s a tree swing that consists of an old wooden slab that has two long ropes attached to the towering oak tree on the right side of my property. It sways quietly with the wind, as if a reply of its own to his question.

“That old thing?” My mouth tips up with a smile. “No. That was there when I moved in. It’s probably not sturdy enough to hold anybody.”

When I twist back, he’s already standing with an outstretched hand. “Come on. I’ll push you.”

His stare holds the same amount of smolder as earlier, but now it also holds the weight of a quiet dare. Somehow, it feels like more than just a dare to test the swing.