Page 41 of Unpacking Secrets
I wouldn’t be forgetting that anytime soon. I pressed my forehead against the smooth tiles of the shower wall until I could think calmly again.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” I muttered.
She hadn’t been too keen on me before yesterday, either, but that tremor running up her spine . . . things had changed between us. I was sure of that much. This new spark of attraction was not one-sided. Whether she’d be open to exploring it, I had no idea, but I was eager to find out.
After dousing myself with cold water, I dried off and threw on jeans that didn’t smell like lake-soaked dog. Libby had texted twice more, as had Mark, who begged me to respond so he could enjoy the afternoon with his wife. I grinned at that and replied as briefly as I could.
Injuries healing well. We hung out at the lake. No making out. Yet.
My finger hovered over the last word for a moment before finally deleting it and hitting send. Libby shot back a kissing emoji anyway. I was fairly certain she'd be playing wingman as often as she could in the coming weeks.
That begged the question of whether I planned to make a move, wingman or no. Juliet was technically my new boss, though in name only. A little light flirtation was one thing—throwing myself at her after our rocky start could be a mistake of epic proportions. It took barely the span of a heartbeat for me to come to a decision.
I would never forgive myself if I missed this opportunity.
What if she left town, went back to her old life, before I drummed up the courage to give it a try? If she shot me down, I’d figure out how to smooth things over, but in the meantime, I had to make a play. A subtle, careful play, and hopefully one that would convince her to engage instead of flee.
The next text came from Mark.
You gonna ask her out for real?
I kept my response short.Yup.
Rock on, man. Libby likes her.
I was grinning when I shot back,I'm so glad I have her permission to proceed, but Mark knew what I meant.
We want you to be happy. Can't wait to meet her, buddy.
Well, then. With my ex-wife’s approval, what could go wrong?
Blue wagged her damp tail when I let her back inside to join me in the living room, apparently forgiving me for leaving her new best friend behind at the cottage. I ruffled her ears and plopped down on my favorite recliner.
As tempted as I was to close my eyes and reflect on the past twenty-four hours, I figured it was smarter to distract myself from the pretty new redhead in town. Blue settled at my side as I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels to find something that might hold my attention.
I needed all the help I could get to take my mind off of Juliet Morrison.
Sixteen
Juliet
Istoodinthekitchenthe next day, eating a sandwich as I stared out toward the lake. A fine veil of warm rain fell steadily over the landscape, giving everything the hazy quality of a half-remembered dream. The lake was a deep, murky gray beneath the troubled sky. Though I’d expected the rain to dim the colors outside the window, instead the grass turned to a rich, glittering emerald.
After so many beautiful spring days, the rain might have been a disappointment. In reality, I found it even more beautiful than the sunlight.
I spent the rest of the morning uploading photos of Cooper’s Point from my camera and drawing in a fresh sketchbook, trying to recapture what I could recall from the one lost during my tumble.
All the while, I was still feeling guilty for how I responded to Henry that first day. This town was his whole life—his childhood, his family, his home. It wasn’t difficult to imagine how I would have felt if some outsider burst unexpectedly into my world and put all of that at risk. He had a right to be unhappy, and I could have refused to rise to the bait.
How would things have turned out if he’d managed to apologize that night at the restaurant before I threatened him? Would I have accepted it and moved forward, or would I still be holding a grudge?
Knowing me, it was the latter.
Thankfully, he seemed like the type to be able to laugh at his mistakes instead of wallowing in them. How else would a man stay such good friends with his ex-wife?
After eating, I sat at the end of the couch where Henry had left his pillow and blanket neatly folded on the table, surreptitiously drawing a deep breath to see if his scent lingered.
Oh sweet lord, there it is,I realized, letting my eyes flutter closed for a moment as the barest hint of that intoxicating cologne met my nose. After indulging this folly for longer than was probably wise, I forced my eyes open.
