Page 45 of Unpacking Secrets
“I mean it. Nan was probably the most amazing artist I’ve ever known, and you blow her out of the water. You better learn how to take a compliment, because there are going to be a whole lot of them coming your way.”
She shrugged it off despite my admonition. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll show you my paintings someday.”
Setting aside the sketchbook, I leaned over to kiss her, enjoying the taste of mint against her lips.
“I’m feeling pretty lucky already.”
Juliet hummed contentedly and we finished our dessert in silence. I returned the bowls to the kitchen, noticing when I came back that she was absentmindedly rubbing her injured knee. I sat back down at the end of the couch, grabbed the pillow I’d slept on the other night, and settled it on my lap.
“C’mon, lie down.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I beg your pardon?”
“If your knee is getting stiff,” I said patiently, “the best thing to do is stretch out and relax. I won’t bite. Not unless you ask me to.”
She looked skeptical, but I bounced my eyebrows to make her laugh. Grudgingly, she did as I suggested. I realized this might have been a bad idea as soon as she lowered herself to my lap, but as I stroked my fingertips through her hair, I couldn’t regret the feeling of her soft, warm body against me.
“What is this cologne you wear?” she asked, closing her eyes.
I scoffed. “I don’t wear cologne. Always seemed too fussy, which isn’t really my style. Imighthave gone through an Axe Body Spray phase in high school, but we don’t have to talk about that. Ever.”
Rolling carefully, she opened her eyes to glare up at me for a beat before pressing her face to my chest. She drew a deep breath, settled back down, and shook her head.
“There is no way in hell you justnaturallysmell this good. Like ocean waves and sunshine.”
Laughter rumbled through my chest when I realized what she meant and I returned to sifting my fingers gently through her hair.
“Oh, that must be the soap. Libby’s husband, Mark, makes organic bath and body products. He runs a gift shop in town. This one is my favorite, I think he calls it ‘sea salt and driftwood’ or something along those lines. I try to keep it stocked up at home, since he sells out regularly.”
She hummed in approval. “Well, it’s my favorite too,” she assured me, then peeked up at my face. “Your doctor ex-wife is married to a man who makes soap for a living? That’s an interesting pairing.”
“They’re happy,” I said simply.
Damned if I wasn’t happy, too, sitting right here with Juliet curled up on my lap. While one hand toyed with her hair, the other stroked lightly along the delicate skin of her forearm, swirling between a constellation of freckles. I watched, fascinated, as her eyelids fluttered closed again, but my entire body tightened when a soft sigh drifted past her lips. It was like every move she made was an aphrodisiac designed just for me.
“You have such sensitive skin. You respond to the barest touch, even in the most innocent of places,” I mused.
The dark teal shirt she wore pulled taut over the curve of her breast as she twisted to shoot me another glare. It wasn’t nearly enough to stop me from wanting to touch far more than her arm.
In fact, it only spurred my imagination onward.
So responsive, indeed. Now I was responding to her in return. I was grateful for the pillow under her head.
With a broad smile, I shrugged off her scowl. “Just an observation.”
Juliet let out an indignant sound, but she snuggled back down onto the pillow and closed her eyes again. It seemed she enjoyed these soft caresses enough to let go of a brewing argument. I noted that little fact for the future, since I was sure her temper would make a regular appearance when we spent more time together.
“What was it like, growing up here?” she asked softly.
A sharp pang of sympathy for her stabbed at my chest. Not only had she lost her mother, she’d also lost the chance to meet a grandmother everyone in this town had loved dearly. The only friend she’d ever mentioned was on the other side of the world while Juliet packed up her old life and moved halfway across the country on her own. It was no wonder she was lonely.
While I stroked her hair, I told her about things I rarely spoke of because everyone in our small town knew it all already—my enduring friendship with Libby and Mark, my close relationship with my family, the homesickness that hit when I went away to college, my joyous return to Spruce Hill after graduation.
“I worked a boring, soul-sucking job for a long time after college. A few years ago, Nan went through a bout of illness that made it difficult for her to handle everything she’d been doing at the inn by herself, so she offered me a job one day when I stopped by to visit Gramps. I almost turned it down, mostly because it was a pay cut, but I’ve been grateful every day since I started working there.”
“I’m glad you got that time with her,” she whispered.
“I’m glad, too. Working at the inn taught me that there’s more to life than a paycheck. We never know how much time we have left with the people we love, so we should do everything we can to take advantage of each day with them.”
