In a single instant, a switch flipped, leaving Nate disorientated, grappling to gain control of his emotions. Sweat slicked his palms, and he fumbled with his phone, shutting off the song before stuffing the cell back inside his pocket.
“Are you okay?” Juliet’s concerned voice broke through the wall of confusion. She placed a hand on his chest. Could she feel his erratic heartbeat?
He couldn’t find the words to answer her.
“Come with me.” She led him by the hand into the sitting room, settling him on the couch in front of the fire. A moment later, she returned with a glass of water and sat beside him. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.
“I—” He hesitated, taking a gulp of water. It slid down his throat, crisp and cold. What could he say? He had no idea why he’d reacted so strangely to a harmless song. There wasn’t a simple explanation, no matter how badly he wanted one. “I’m fine.”
She didn’t respond at first, merely gazing into the flickering flames. After a minute or two of thoughtful silence, she asked, “Implicit flashback?”
He stared in surprise. “You know the term?”
“I’ve witnessed them quite a few times. I work for a nonprofit that aids women who’ve escaped domestic violence and human trafficking.”
Nate studied her profile in the amber glow, stunned by what she’d shared. She continued to amaze him. And every new thing he learned about her made him like her even more. “I had no idea.” Guess he shouldn’t judge a book by its coverorbumper sticker.
She smiled. “We sort of skipped the get-to-know-you questions.”
“I work part-time as a security guard at a jewelry store and volunteer at Forgotten Heroes.” He suddenly wanted to lay everything on the table—to know every detail about her and to be fully known in return.
Her eyes widened. “You do? I thought—” She snapped her mouth shut.
“What?”
Her cheeks colored with the faint blush of embarrassment. “When my aunt said they’d agreed to host someone from the homeless shelter, I thought…” She trailed off as if she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
Nate laughed a deep, rumbling laugh of disbelief.
“What’s so funny?”
“Let me get this straight.” He choked back another chuckle. “You’d kiss a guy without a job or place to live, as long as he can pronounce Proust?”
She blinked, clearly not grasping the irony. “What are you talking about?”
“Your bumper sticker. ‘If he can’t pronounce Proust, then cut him loose.’”
“Oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a giggle. “I’m borrowing my mom’s car. That’s her bumper sticker, not mine.”
“That explains a lot.” He’d learned a valuable lesson about jumping to conclusions.
“So, this whole time you had me down as—what? A literary snob?”
“Something like that.”
“And yet, you still wanted to kiss me?” Her dark eyes danced with humor.
“Wantedto?” he repeated. “Past tense?” His lips twitched as he recalled the moment in Luke’s truck when she’d said something similar.
“Well, I—uh—” she stammered, adorably flustered. Her pupils dilated, and his body responded to the physical cue, inching closer on the couch.
The delicate tendril grazing her cheek tempted him again, only this time, he gave in to the longing, stroking it lightly with his fingertips.
She shivered beneath his touch, her breath quickening.
He could so easily take her in his arms, blocking out the world—and every haunting memory from his past—with her perfect lips. But he didn’t want to use her affection as a salve for his pain. Or take a single step further without removing any possible pretense. If he pursued Juliet, he wanted to do it right—with one hundred percent transparency.
Even if it ruined his chance with her.
