Page 12 of The Summer for Us (Golden Falls #1)

JULIETTE

“Fuck,” I muttered as I ran my fingers through my hair. I looked around for a broom and dust pan. Anything to clean this up with.

“Everything okay back there?” a voice called out. It wasn’t Hal’s, which meant…

“Everything’s fine!” I responded quickly, kneeling on the tile floor next to the mess and trying to gather the broken pieces.

“Huh, causing trouble already, city girl? What a surprise.”

I tipped my head back, my eyes meeting the intense gaze above me. His expression was harsh, his jaw sharp and clenched so tight I thought he was going to crack a molar.

Gone was the smile I’d seen a moment ago. Gone was the laugh I’d heard.

This was the same version of the man I’d met on my first day and the version who had come barreling down the steps of his dock. The attraction flew out the window, or at least I wanted it to. Because this man in front of me wasn’t someone I wanted to give another thought.

A warm flush spread over my face—not because of him, but because I’d created more work for Hal with the mess.

“It was an accident,” I said through gritted teeth, looking up at him. I hadn’t backed down before, and I wasn’t going to now. “And I’m trying to clean up the mess so Hal doesn’t have to.”

“You should’ve asked one of us for help getting this down.”

“Because you’re so willing to help me?” I asked with a scoff. “Gosh, I wonder why I didn’t ask. I’m fine. I can clean this up myself and take care of it on my own. I don’t need your help, so if you could?—”

As we were talking— arguing —I continued grabbing pieces of broken ceramic without looking. Which was a mistake.

“Shit,” I hissed, finally looking down and seeing the blood dripping down my hand. I’d cut the palm of my hand on one of the sharp jagged pieces.

His eyes flicked down to see where I was looking.

“Goddamn it,” he grumbled when he spotted the blood.

“C’mon, I think Hal has a first-aid kit in the back.

” He extended his large hand to help me up, and I stared at it for a beat, so ready to argue with him that I could take care of this on my own.

I decided against it because, for once, I could use his help.

My hand was stinging, and I needed a way to stop the blood.

I set my other hand in his, slowly standing.

“Hal, I’m going to take Juliette to the back. She hurt her hand,” he called over the aisles to the older man.

“Do you have to scream it to the whole store?” I hissed under my breath to him.

“I think the whole store heard what happened when the ceramic pot hit the floor, plus it’s just the three of us here, anyway,” he muttered back as we waited for Hal’s response.

“Everything you should need is in a box in my desk drawer, Wesley,” Hal responded. “You doing alright, Miss Jules?”

At least now I knew his name. Wesley .

“I’m okay, Hal. Thanks for asking.”

We first went to the store’s single-person restroom where Wesley instructed me to rinse my hand with cold water and use paper towels to apply gentle pressure so the bleeding would stop. He watched, and when I met his eyes in the mirror, I swore his brows furrowed in concern for a split second.

We then stepped into Hal’s office—or what Hal claimed to be his office. The tiny room had one window, a desk, and two chairs. Hal had pictures on the walls, similarly to how he did up front, and various tools spread out on his desk.

“Go ahead and take a seat.” Wesley nodded toward the office chair. I didn’t know why, but every time this man spoke, I wanted to do the opposite of what he said. I listened, though. He was helping me, after all.

I got comfortable in the chair and looked around the office while Wesley opened the desk drawer, pulling out a red first-aid kit. He grabbed antibiotic ointment and a bandage.

He moved around the desk and kneeled in front of me. “Lay your hand so your palm is facing up.”

I rested the back of my hand on the top of my thigh, palm facing up, and removed the paper towels to expose the cut.

Wesley had washed his hands before we left the bathroom, and he reached for my hand, his large fingers tenderly examining my injury.

He let out a quiet sigh. He seemed relieved.

“Doesn’t look as bad as I thought. Not saying it doesn’t hurt, but it looked worse with the blood.

Cleaning it helped.” He twisted off the cap of the ointment, and seconds before he was about to spread the cream on my wound, I pulled my hand away slightly.

“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” I asked, my body already anticipating the sharp stinging and pain that would follow, even though I knew the ointment was necessary. My other hand wrapped tightly around the chair’s armrest.

“It’ll sting,” Wesley started slowly, “but it’ll help if you focus your mind on something else. You can also look away if you have to.”

I didn’t expect his voice to sound so tender, so caring, so patient.

It was such a sharp contrast to what I was used to with him.

Slowly, I nodded and extended my hand back toward him.

He met my eyes, looking at me as if he was asking permission.

I nodded again, and he dipped his head down to tend to my injury.

I focused on his calloused touch, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, and how carefully he spread the ointment over the cut.

I focused on how delicately his large hands touched mine, and I realized I’d never had a man be this gentle with me, this caring.

And how depressing was that? That I couldn’t picture any of my ex-boyfriends tending to me this way.

Instead, my grumpy neighbor, who wanted nothing to do with me, was the one to make sure I was okay.

“All set,” Wesley said, and when I looked down, the bandage was wrapped around my hand, covering my palm. Turns out his advice worked. I just had to focus on…him.

“Thanks, Wesley,” I said breathlessly.

His shoulders tensed at the sound of his name.

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, and my eyes followed the motion.

He slowly tore his gaze away from my hand and looked up at me.

Our eyes met, and it was the first time I realized how close we were.

The scent of mint and mahogany overwhelmed my senses. Being so close to him was too much.

“Just Wes is fine.”

The corner of my lip quirked up into a half-smile. If he intended on calling me by my full name, I’d do the same. “I’ll stick with Wesley for now.” His name rolled off my tongue with ease, and I wanted to say it again.

Silence filled the small room as we stared at each other. I kept my eyes on him, but I so badly wanted to look away, let my gaze drop to his lips, his throat, his hands. He was so manly and rugged, but I was starting to see he was also gentle and caring—when he wanted to be.

As we stared at each other, I couldn’t tell if that was heat or distain in his eyes. Did it even matter?

I swallowed and looked down at my hand, still in his grasp with his calloused thumb rubbing small circles along my wrist. All it took was that brief flicker to break whatever was happening between us.

As I started to pull my wrist away, he beat me to it and quickly dropped his hold.

He stood and backed away so suddenly he nearly stumbled.

My skin burned where his touch had been.

“I’m going to find a broom to clean up the mess you made,” he grunted, creating distance between us and reminding me he didn’t want me in his town.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t need your help?” I asked stubbornly, getting up from the chair and standing toe to toe with him, needing to tilt my head back to look up at him. I didn’t know what he thought of me, or why, but I sure as hell wanted to prove him wrong.

“Really, you’re telling me a city girl like you would’ve been able to clean and bandage your wound?” He raised a skeptical brow, crossing his arms over his chest, which created distance between us. This man was as stubborn as I was—if not more.

“What I’m telling you—” I gritted between my teeth but stopped at the sound of Hal’s voice. I wasn’t sure when he’d gotten here, but I welcomed the interruption.

“Now, now, Wes. Don’t you go scaring my customers away, even if I know this one can hold her own.” Hal’s voice was stern as he came up behind Wesley and elbowed him in the side before turning to me. “Don’t worry about that, Miss Jules. I’ll clean it up.”

“Hal, I really—” I started to say before Hal cut me off again, this time with a sharp shake of his head.

He gestured for me to follow him to the register at the front of the store. “Let’s get you checked out up front and get your order in for some paint.”

Reluctantly, I followed Hal. I must’ve left my purse in the aisle with the ceramic pots, because he had it at the register already. “Will you at least let me pay for the flower pot I broke?” I offered as I dug through my purse for my credit card.

“Nope,” he responded, popping the P. “But I will order you a new one and get it delivered to where you’re staying.”

Hal rung up the cost for the paint I picked out for Lily’s, along with two flower pots I was going to go back and grab.

“Thanks, Hal. Sorry again about the mess.” I tapped the card against the reader, able to pay without a problem since Wesley had fixed it.

“Don’t sweat it. Accidents happen. I already forgot about it.” He gave me a friendly wink before rapping his knuckles against the counter. “Have a good rest of your day, Miss Jules, and take it easy.” He nodded toward my hand. “Hope to see you around soon.”

“You, too, Hal. See you around.”

Even though Hal had said not to worry about it, I intended to see what I could do to help with the mess on my way out. But in the short time it’d taken for me to check out, everything was cleaned up, and Wesley was gone, leaving me even more confused about what happened between us.