As the others move to pack up their things, Morgan leans overto check out my latest work. As always, her fancy journal is filled with her gorgeously loopy handwriting and meticulous notes. She juts one sparkly fingernail into the binding of my old notebook; it’s nearly falling apart.
“Its days are numbered,” she teases. “How many pages do you have left? Four?”
It’s a good guess. I check.
It’s an accurate guess.
“It’s got one more session, tops.”
“Come to the bookstore sometime this week,” she offers. “We have a lot of journals to choose from, and I can give you my manager discount. Maybe Saturday?”
I’m touched. “Are you working then?”
“No, but he is.” She bounces her chin in the direction of Liam, who’s too distracted gathering up his own notes to notice. “We can get coffee and talk shit,” Morgan says with a laugh.
“My favorite hobby. I’d love to.”
As the boys file into the kitchen and Morgan packs her bags, Jules stands at the end of the table, humming idly to herself and tucking leftover cookies into bins. Morgan and I lock gazes, sharing a brief moment of telepathy. Morgan gives me a tiny, encouraging nod.
“Do you want to come, too, Jules?” I ask.
“You know where Bluebonnet Books is, right?” Morgan adds. “I feel like I’ve seen you there with your little ones for story time.”
Kids?I had no idea Jules is a mom, or that Morgan is the bookstore’s manager. There’s so much I don’t know about either of them, and it only makes me want to get coffee with them more.
“Oh!” Jules straightens. “I’d love to!” She beams, and then her expression falls. “We’ve got piano lessons Saturday. But maybe—maybe after? Late afternoon, if I can get away?” Her tone is hopeful.
“That’s perfect,” I say.
Morgan flashes us a smile, her teeth bright against her dark lipstick. “Great. See you two then.”
I follow everyone outside. Liam always keeps his house at arctic-cold temperatures, so the sun feels good on my arms, thawing me out. But in the midafternoon heat, I can already feel sweat begin to pool under my bra and at my temples. After our goodbyes and more of Jules surreptitiously sneaking baked goods into everyone’s bags, the gang all pile into their cars and drive off. Even Liam follows them out, heading to his shift at the bookstore. Noah rolls out his bike and comes to stand next to me in the driveway. I linger by his side, eager to put off chores for a little more time together.
“Shop got her back in good shape, then?” I ask, gesturing with my chin toward his bike.
“Sure did,” he says cheerily, squeezing the brake. “As much as I enjoyed being chauffeured around by you, I’m glad to have an excuse to stretch my legs and get all this energy out before work.” Casually and without warning, he peels his T-shirt off and stuffs it into his backpack. At my alarmed expression, he grins. “I can’t show up to work with my shirt all soaked through.” Hetsks.
I worry that my glasses will fog up from the heat rising from my cheeks. Part of me wishes that they would, just so that they could conceal the way my eyes linger on Noah’s skin.He doesn’t look like Loren,I think, and I can’t believe that’s my first thought, but it’s true. Noah looks like he could swing a sword or break a tree in half with his hands. He’s not willowy and graceful like an elf—like Loren. Instead, he’s all broad shoulders, big arms, and thick muscles bunching up underneath a layer of softness that makes him look incredibly huggable. Of course he’s always towered over me, and I’ve seen hints of his bulk in the way his clothes tighten across his shoulders, but—it’s entirely different to witness him in all his shirtless glory.
“Great timing,” I say dryly. I try to say it sarcastically, but my mouth is literally dry.
“Oh, you think this show is foryou?” He flexes playfully, and I almost pass out. I keep my eyes on the tangle of his beard instead of the trail of curly hair running down his chest.
“Any more of this and you’re going to be late.”
“Are you planning to delay me much longer?” he drawls, but when he glances at his watch, he jumps a little. “Oh shit. Hah! No, I do actually have to go.” He reaches forward to squeeze my wrist. “I’ll text you after work?”
“I’ll be around. Have fun.”
“Always do.” He adjusts his backpack on the bike, hops on, and peddles off.
Chapter
Eleven
Nearly two months into my funemployment, I’m finally ready to admit that I’m bored out of my mind.
Just a few weeks ago, getting out of bed before noon was a Herculean task. Brushing my hair on any day other than Sunday seemed unnecessary. Running Liam’s errands, given to me with good intentions, felt like a complete burden.
