Embracing Juliette (Texas Heroes: Station 9 #1)

Chapter 6

6

Juliette

N icky: Meet me at the library after work. It’s urgent.

Me: You ok?

Nicky: I’m good. It’s not about me

Jenna: What’s it about?

Nicky: Juliette

Me: What???

Me: Nicky! What is it??

Nicky: *winky face emoji*

“Hi,” I whispered when I spotted Jenna cleaning up giant foam blocks in the construction section of the children’s library.

“Hey!” She tossed a haul of blocks into a big bin and came over, immediately opening her arms for me.

That was just what I needed. I squeezed her back as tightly as she held me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I just… I don’t know. Is Nicky here yet?” I pulled back, grabbing the triangular block behind me and tossing it to her.

“No, and I have no idea what her text was about.”

I sighed.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“I only saw him once.”

“So? I saw how you guys were at Nolan’s. You were having a blast. You hit it off immediately.”

I don’t know if that made me feel better or worse. “We did, didn’t we?”

“You were talking and laughing with him like you do with Nicky and me.”

“Excuse me? I make her laugh way harder than some dude she just met!”

“Shh, you’re in my library!” Jenna admonished.

Nicky walked over to join us in cleaning up the remaining blocks. “I only have a few minutes before I have to run,” she said. “I get to go see Luca, the cutest kid ever, even though his dad’s an asswipe.”

“If you stop doing home cares and come to the schools with me, or go to a clinic, you could work with the kids without dealing with asshole parents nearly as much,” I said.

“Never going to happen. I love my families.”

Jenna and I shrugged at each other. We’d had this conversation many times. Nicky did OT in people’s homes and took most of her cases in the lower income areas of the city.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Nicky said. “Guess what?”

“Just tell me.”

“You’re no fun. Guess who just texted me?”

“Nicky! Just tell me!”

Nicky grinned. “Mel.”

My heart pounded. “And?”

“Cole called her.”

“I hate you! Spit it out!”

“Dylan was with him. They asked Mel if she had your number, so she texted me and I gave it to her.”

“You didn’t ask me first?”

“Nope. I know you like him. I wasn’t giving you the chance to say no.”

“I humiliated myself the last time I saw him.”

“Yet he wanted your number.”

I picked up the last few blocks and walked over to put them in the bin.

“Talk to us, Juliette. What are you thinking?”

“I really like him, like in a way that I’ve never felt before, and if he wants to see me again after that mess, he might be the most accepting person I’ve ever met when it comes to my dyspraxia—except you guys, of course. It makes me feel so much pressure to not mess this up, and you know how I collapse under pressure.”

“There is no pressure,” Jenna said. “You just met the guy and had a good time once. When you see him again, hopefully you’ll have a good time again. That’s it. Don’t get ahead of yourself. He could end up being a jerk, or hating animals, or a million other things that’ll change how you feel.”

“He could have a tiny dick or be terrible in bed,” Nicky added in a whisper, showing not the slightest modicum of respect for being in a children’s library.

Jenna glared at Nicky as she continued. “He’s probably not as great as you think he is, so there’s no need to build it up into a big deal.”

“You know, your mistrust in everyone kind of works here,” I said to Jenna before looking at Nicky. “You…not so much.”

Nicky feigned indignation. Jenna and I laughed, and Jenna beckoned for us to follow her to the crafts and kitchen section. I threw Jenna an appreciative smile for the distraction. The three of us shared almost everything, but some things were easier to talk to Jenna about than Nicky. Like how being terrible in bed was a huge worry of mine.

More than a worry, actually. My ex-boyfriend, Jake, told me to just be quiet and lay still, that it was distracting when I jerked all over like I was having convulsions. I shook off the memory of that crappy and thankfully short-lived relationship.

“What the hell happened here?” I asked, looking around the room. It looked like a tornado had torn through.

“Three young kids and a mom who thought the library was a playground.”

Working together, we righted the chairs and returned them to the table, then picked up all the crayons and pretend food and returned them to their proper places.

“Maybe we could hang out with Dylan and his friends together,” Jenna said as we gathered up all the coloring pages that were torn, crumpled, or colored on to throw away. “That way we’ll be there to help.”

“No pressure, I swear, but I wouldn’t mind hanging out with him and his friends again,” Nicky said, too nonchalantly.

“Oh yeah? Anyone in particular?”

Nicky shrugged.

“Which one?”

No answer.

“Tell us!”

“We’ll figure it out,” Jenna said.

“It’s not Cole,” I said. “With his curly blond hair and bright white smile, he looks like he belongs on a surfboard. Too fun and sunny for her.”

“Not Ethan,” Jenna said. “The sprinkling of gray and the grooves at the corners of his eyes totally work for him, but handsome and distinguished isn’t her style.”

“Brady?” I guessed. “He was hot.” Not as hot as Dylan, of course, but he did look like a model with his dark hair, chiseled chin, and blue eyes.

“He was nice,” Jenna added.

Nicky shook her head.

“That leaves Ryan or Liam,” I said. “The brooding, scowling one or the behemoth?”

They responded simultaneously with matching defensiveness in their tones.

“Nothing wrong with a little brooding,” Nicky said.

“He’s not a behemoth,” Jenna said.

Nicky and I swung our gazes to Jenna. “You too?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” she denied, a little too strongly. “That’s just not a kind thing to say.”

“Sure. Wouldn’t want to insult the guy who’s at least six and a half feet tall and built like a tank by calling him big,” Nicky said.

“You guys would look adorable,” I said. Jenna was five foot three and lean with dark blond hair and gorgeous blue-green eyes. With her cute, sunny look and the maxi skirts she loved to wear, she was reminiscent of a mermaid or a sparkly fairy. Liam had brown hair, brown eyes, bold eyebrows, and was tall with muscles everywhere. The polar opposite. Her tiny frame would be swallowed up when he wrapped his arms around her. I loved it. “I bet he’s a giant teddy bear.”

“It’s not like I even talked to him. He just seemed nice, and he’s obviously good looking.”

I turned to Nicky, taking the attention off Jenna, and Nicky went along with it. “Ryan? Really? I don’t think I saw him smile once all day.”

“He smiled at me.”

“Ah, I get it now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before I had to backpedal or get sucked into psychoanalyzing my friend in a way I really didn’t want to do, we heard the soft ping of a bell summoning Jenna to the desk. Thank goodness.

“I have to run now,” Nicky said.

“I should go, too,” I said, and we all quickly hugged and said goodbye.

Nicky and I walked out into oppressive heat. “It’s only the beginning of May. How is it so hot?” Nicky grumbled.

“Summer comes early in Texas.”

“This makes me miss New York.” Nicky paused for a moment, waiting for my full attention before continuing. “Always remember how awesome you are. You are smart, funny, kind, beautiful, and the most incredible friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you. If Dylan looks at you and sees what I see, he won’t be able to resist you. And if he doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve you.”

We hugged until Nicky pulled away, claiming I was making her clothes stick to her sweaty body. She adjusted her t-shirt and leggings and fixed the colorful headband that held back her blond pixie cut. She was the epitome of low-maintenance and needed no adjusting, except to shake off the emotional moment.

“Thanks Nicky.”

“Anything for you, my friend,” she said lightly as she headed toward her car. “Keep me posted.”

“I will. Be safe. Call me when you get home from the dick of a dad.”

Hours later, when I should’ve been asleep already, I was baking brownies to bring to work in the morning, mixing the batter with more force than necessary. Was he going to call or not? Better question was, why did I care? It would be easier if he didn’t.

Even if he did call, and somehow things went well… How long could it last before I embarrassed myself again? While I was home, thinking about him and triple checking the recipe on the brownie mix box, he was out risking his life to save people from burning buildings.

I needed to get my head out of the clouds.

He wouldn’t call. He was probably shocked by the multiple personalities I’d shown or confused about how quickly I’d morphed from normal to malfunctioning. He probably wasn’t thinking clearly when he asked for my number, or he’d asked out of morbid curiosity. Maybe I’d just imagined the whole thing.

I finished the brownies, and despite my rioting thoughts, I must’ve eventually fallen asleep, because I was woken up by my phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Juliette, it’s Dylan. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

He called! My traitorous heart pounded. “No, you didn’t. I’m glad you called.”

“I did wake you. But I’m glad you answered anyway. I’m sorry it’s so late. I wanted to call earlier, but I was out on back-to-back calls.” His voice was even deeper and sexier over the phone.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, a few car accidents but, thank God, no serious injuries.”

I hadn’t even thought about car accidents. “You’re the first firefighter I know. Is it like in the books I’ve read? A bunch of hot guys joking around with each other and complaining about who can’t cook, who leaves a mess, who snores, and who farts?”

He laughed, the sound smooth and rich. My cheeks burned with both pride and embarrassment. I was glad he couldn’t see me.

“That’s not too far off.” I could hear a smile in his voice. This sweet, sexy guy was really talking to me. Amazing. And, apparently, I was ridiculously happy about it. So much for playing it safe.

“Juliette, I wanted to apologize for—” I heard a loud alarm blaring. “Sorry, I gotta run.”

“Be safe!”

“Thank you. I’ll call you again when I can.”

“Okay,” I whispered, but he’d already hung up. What did he want to apologize for?

The next day, Dylan sent a couple of texts. The first was a simple good morning while I was in the shower. I typed back the same in response, in shock that this was really happening. In the afternoon, he wrote, “hope you are having a good day.” I saw the text, but I was working in a classroom and couldn’t write back. By the time I got back to my phone, he’d sent another.

Dylan: I’m going to call you later, and when we talk I’m going to ask to see you again. Giving you a heads up now so you are ready for it. Please say yes.

What?? What do I say to that?

Me: Okay

Thank goodness my last few kids of the day were easy, because it was all I could do just to make it through the day.

I was about to get into my car when my phone rang. Shit, my hands were full with my purse, lunch bag, and coffee cup from the morning. I felt around for my phone, but couldn’t find it. What if it was Dylan? I dropped everything on the ground and bent to find it, probably giving quite the view to anyone walking behind me.

There it was, in my lunch bag, and it was Dylan!

“Hello?” I panted into the phone.

“Juliette? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Hold on a minute.”

“Sure.”

I fumbled through picking everything back up and rushed to get settled in the car.

“Hi. Sorry. I’m here,” I finally said, still out of breath.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, you just caught me getting into my car, and as you may have noticed, I’m, uh, not that coordinated.”

I held my breath waiting for his response. I wasn’t usually this forthcoming, but I wanted to be with him. Besides, it was obviously too late to try to hide it.

He chuckled softly, neither denying nor agreeing with my words, and I guess that was as good a response as any.

“Juliette, I want to apologize for the other night. I was an ass. I knew something was wrong, and I didn’t try to make it better for you. I didn’t know what to do.”

His heartfelt words hit hard. I struggled to find the right response.

He came to my rescue. “Can we have a do-over?” he asked, lightening the moment.

“A do-over?”

“Yeah. Quick and easy. I’m working, but there’s a coffee shop right across the street from the station. I can’t promise I won’t get called away, but I’d really like to see you, even if it’s only for a few minutes. Is that okay?”

He wants to see me? Yes! My heart pounded in my chest. “Yeah, that sounds good,” I said, trying to sound casual. “When?”

“Are you free now?”

Now? Right now? No! I needed time to prepare. “Um, okay.” What else could I say?

“I promise I will never purposely stand you up, but my time is unpredictable. I could be called out the minute we hang up. I’ll try to let you know, but I may not be able to. So, if you get there and I’m not there, call me and text me, and if I can’t get there or answer, I’ll make it up to you. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah, I know you’re working. It’s okay. Thanks for making the time to try to see me.”

“It’s my pleasure. See you soon. Drive safe.”

My heart melted at those caring words.

He gave me the name and address of the coffee shop, and fifteen stressful minutes later, I pulled up and parallel parked in front of the place, hoping he couldn’t see me from wherever he was.

I opened the door to the Urban Grind, inhaling the fortifying aroma of fresh coffee, and before I could take a single step in, Dylan was there.

“Hi, Juliette,” he said softly with a smile.

My stomach fluttered. “Hi.”

“It’s good to see you again.”

“You too.” Why couldn’t I think of anything to say that was more than one or two words?

“You work over there?” I pointed out the window. It was an inane question, because he’d told me the coffee shop was across the street from his work, and that was clearly a fire station across the street. But at least I said something.

“Yeah. We make pretty good coffee in the station, but it’s nice to come here for a break sometimes.” Dylan walked toward the counter, and I followed behind. “What can I get for you?” he asked me.

“Coffee with half-and-half.”

“You got it.” Dylan turned to the barista, who looked like he was barely eighteen, and spoke to him for a minute, asking him about school, before he ordered politely and thanked him sincerely, slipping a few bills into the tip jar.

I was impressed. It was hard for me to be friendly like that. Not because I didn’t want to, but every time I tried to talk too much, it got messed up and then they couldn’t understand my order. But even without comparing him to me, I just liked the way he was so respectful to everyone. I’d noticed that the other day too.

He took our coffees from the counter, as well as a little bag, and led me to a table in the corner. The place was small with about a dozen wood tables, metal stools, and a few industrial-looking accents like the black pipes overheard.

He sat, and I felt my face flush as I took my seat across from him, thinking back to the restaurant. He didn’t seem to notice, thankfully, too focused on taking what appeared to be a warm slice of chocolate chip banana bread out of the bag. He placed it on a napkin in the middle of the table.

“They have the best banana bread here. You have to try it.”

I broke off a small piece, wondering how he seemed so relaxed and normal when I felt anything but.

Then he dropped the casual act and leaned toward me, his intense gaze holding me immobile.

“I need to say a few things quickly in case I get called out. I’m so glad you agreed to meet me, and I don’t want to waste this opportunity.”

I slowly put the banana bread down on a napkin, lest I choke on it if he shocked me, and I had a feeling he would.

“That evening at Nolan’s with you was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I’m not really sure what happened at dinner, but it doesn’t matter. Juls, I think the girl I played pool with is the real you.”

Holy shit. Was that the nicest thing anyone ever said to me in my entire life? It might’ve been. He was ignoring the fucked up dyspraxic mess and focusing on the few minutes I was at my best. No one ever did that. And he’d called me Juls. I loved it.

“But...why?”

“I’m going to figure you out, Juls. I’m going to learn what it takes to make you smile and laugh like you did at Nolan’s, and I’m going to learn what you need when you have a hard time like at dinner. Is that okay with you?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, glad I hadn’t attempted that banana bread. I swallowed the pride and fear that made me want to say no.

He smiled at me, and I nearly melted. I would agree to anything he wanted if it made him smile like that.

Straight, white teeth. Strong jaw. Soft, tantalizing lips. His warm brown eyes, kind and void of judgment. How was it even possible?

I wanted so badly to take everything he was offering, but...