Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Wendy let her fingers trace the filigree that had been carved into the headboard of an old bed.
It was beautiful but far too big for her to showcase in her shop.
She didn’t have enough storage either. If she knew of a buyer, she would contact them.
Unfortunately, this piece simply wasn’t meant for her.
She lifted her eyes to the other side of the room where Tripp was examining a dresser that looked like it belonged with the bed. He must have felt her attention on him and he found her gaze.
Looking away, Wendy feigned nonchalance, but it was too late. He’d already caught her staring.
Dang it!
The guy was making her second guess everything she knew about him. The way he asked her questions and listened intently to her answers. The way he seemed to have a vested interest in her dreams.
He’d asked her about her writing again, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel put on the spot. Strange as it was, she enjoyed speaking to him about it. They brainstormed ideas for why she had such a bad roadblock and then their conversation had shifted to something else.
“What do you think they used this for?”
She glanced in Tripp’s direction, and he held up a masquerade mask with a cocked brow. Wendy smirked. “I’m sure you can figure it out. Use your imagination.”
“Oh, you don’t want me using that. It’s a weapon of mass destruction.”
Her eyes darted from his face to the mask in his hand and she blushed. Nope she wasn’t even going to go there.
Tripp’s laughter only made her blush worse. And she had to move past him to head to another part of the house.
The people who had inherited everything in this home had set everything out that they wanted to sell and they were letting people wander through the rooms to take a look at everything.
Not one surface was empty. From what she could tell based on the listing she’d found, the kitchen and the office were the two places that had the most. They’d already wandered through the former and she had yet to find the latter.
The heat from Tripp’s gaze burned into the side of her face and she inched around him so she didn’t have to touch him. That could be disastrous based on the things she was currently experiencing.
Her whole body felt overheated. She couldn’t wait to get out in the open air, though that probably wouldn’t help matters considering it was on the warmer side today.
Tripp’s footsteps followed her from the room and down the hall to the next door. She stopped short in the doorway and Tripp bumped into her.
He grunted an apology then peered over her shoulder.
How was it possible?
This was the second sale where the owners had an old but usable typewriter.
This one had been cherished more than the last one she’d seen based on the pristine condition.
It was simply beautiful, and the teal color made it seem more modern than it likely was.
Beside it on the desk was a box of supplies.
Based on what she saw on top, there were enough inked ribbons to last for a couple of years at least.
“Stop staring and go check it out.” Tripp’s hot whisper tickled the hairs on the back of her neck.
Wendy stiffened, having completely forgotten that she wasn’t alone. It hadn’t seemed possible but when she’d seen the typewriter, it had practically called to her. She took a step into the room, sensing Tripp’s presence more now that he seemed to have a similar interest in the typewriter.
She didn’t dare touch it—like it’d have the power to electrocute her or something ridiculous like that. “It’s… beautiful,” she whispered. “I saw something similar at that other estate sale we went to, but I couldn’t afford it.”
“What about this one?”
A very unladylike snort echoed in the room.
“This one is better than that one. There’s no way it’s in my budget.
” She sighed. This feeling of missing out was the only reason she hated shopping for items to showcase in her shop.
There were simply too many beautiful pieces and no way to take care of them all.
When she looked up at Tripp, he was frowning at the typewriter with such a look of concentration, it made her laugh.
He brought his eyes to hers, but before he could say something she changed the subject.
“I did see some pieces I’d like to get for the shop.
Would you mind if we got them now? I don’t really want to come out here again. ”
He nodded. “Of course.”
She beamed. “Thank you, Tripp. I really appreciate it. Come on, they’re out this way.
” She took her leave first, refusing to glance over her shoulder for one last look at the typewriter.
As much as she wanted something like that, she couldn’t rationalize buying it.
What did an almost-writer even need with a typewriter?
If she couldn’t bring herself to start on the book, what made her think she deserved that gorgeous piece of art?
Maybe one day when she had something to show for all her effort.
One day.
Wendy couldn’t help but stare as Tripp loaded up the pieces of furniture she’d purchased. She would have never been able to put them into the back of his truck on her own, but he did it with ease. His muscles rippled with the effort it took. Working at Sagebrush Ranch was clearly doing it for him.
He caught her eye and she looked away.
It was utterly shameless.
Heat seared her cheeks as she avoided his gaze. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Tripp was quiet—far too quiet for far too long. She squirmed beneath his stare and finally lifted her eyes.
The fire that flowed between them was nothing new. Sometimes it was fueled by irritation. Other times it was this innate sense that there was something more that needed to be explored between them.
Gah! She couldn’t be weak. Not where Tripp was concerned. He wasn’t good for her. She knew it and he probably did, too.
Friends, she chanted in her head. Only friends.
That boyish grin that spread across his lips had her focus shifting to his mouth. Unbidden, memories attacked. Memories of the way his lips felt on hers. The way he tasted and felt in her arms.
Tripp raised an eyebrow, moving closer to her. His voice lowered enough it resembled a growl more than anything else. “You keep looking at me that way and I might have to do something about it.”
She inhaled sharply. “What?” Her gaze found his.
He traced his knuckle along her jaw before dropping his hand to his side.
They stood like that for what felt like ages but in reality, it was only a couple seconds. She held her breath, waiting for him to cross that line they’d both agreed to draw in the sand. But he never did.
Tripp jerked his chin toward the truck. “Come on. Get in and we can take these to the shop.”
Wendy blew out a breath and nodded. Right.
Friends.
There wasn’t a single phrase she despised more in that moment than that word alone. He didn’t move. Didn’t inch out of the way. He just… stood there.
She cleared her throat and took a step forward, expecting him to get out of the way but he didn’t. Wendy let out a nervous laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Excuse me.”
At the sound of her voice, Tripp stiffened. It was like he had to force himself to come out of the trance. She moved around him before she had a chance to do something she might truly regret.
Something like stealing another one of those scorching kisses she couldn’t stop thinking about.
The drive back to the shop was excruciating to say the least. If she thought the tension between them had been painful before, it was so much worse now.
What made her believe she could be in the same vicinity as this man and not get overworked? She’d been so na?ve!
Tripp kept his attention on the road, and she shifted so she could change the radio station.
As a sweet country song broke the silence, she allowed herself to breathe.
They could be friends because it wasn’t like they were forced to spend time with each other.
Less time in the other’s company meant less heat that simply wouldn’t go away.
Wendy blew out a breath and stared out the window. Every so often she could feel his gaze on her and it took all her willpower not to turn so she could catch him staring. Each time, she bit down on her lip a little harder. Hopefully it didn’t get to the point where she drew blood.
They pulled up in front of her shop and she hopped out before Tripp had a chance to get her door for her.
She fumbled with her keys, hyperaware of where Tripp was at every second.
He’d pulled down the tailgate and had climbed into the back.
When she had the door unlocked, she finally forced herself to turn to face him.
Tripp had moved the furniture to the edge of the truck. Now, he was reaching for the first one. She only allowed herself one glance as she pushed the door open and stepped back as far as she could to grant him access.
He took a few more trips and when he’d finally pushed the tailgate into position, she held her breath.
Would he leave? Tell her he’d see her later?
Why on earth did that thought make her feel so disappointed? Today had been a good day. She’d enjoyed his company far more than she should have.
Tripp shoved his hands into his pockets and moved toward her. The door to the shop was closed at her back and she leaned against it, watching him warily. When he reached her, she exhaled. Her lungs were burning but that was nothing to the swirling of emotions in her stomach.
“So…” she whispered.
“So,” he repeated.
Wendy bit her lip again to prevent herself from smiling but it was no good. She couldn’t go anywhere. As she was pressed up against the door, there would be no going inside unless Tripp stepped back. It wasn’t so bad. In this moment she could pretend that they were something… else. Something… more?
Tripp rocked back on his heels and peered off somewhere for a moment. “I think we should talk.”
Her throat closed up and her voice squeaked. “Talk?”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I was wrong.”
This time her brows furrowed. “Wrong about what?”
Tripp’s searing eyes found hers and he shifted beneath her gaze. Was he nervous? He couldn’t be. This was Tripp. The guy who could convince any girl to go on a date with him. He was in his element when he flirted with women. There was no way he was nervous. Especially around her.
Wendy cleared her throat again and folded her arms. “What were you wrong about, Tripp?”
He didn’t answer right away. She nearly demanded that he speak his mind when he finally murmured, “I don’t want to be just friends.”
Her eyes flared wide. A flutter of excitement rippled through her chest, waking up all the deadened parts of her.
He wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying, right?
No. Tripp didn’t do serious relationships.
That much had been made clear enough. Before she could point that out, Tripp closed the distance between them.
His hands came up to frame her face and he captured her lips with his.
Her eyes closed on their own accord as she allowed herself to melt into this man who had managed to weasel himself into her good graces.
He might not have been the kind of guy to check off all her boxes, but he came darn close.
He was sweeter than she’d expected. He could make her laugh. He made her feel seen.
But there was still something holding her back. That nagging voice in the back of her head that told her she had to be so, so careful otherwise she wouldn’t survive.
Survival.
That was what she was fighting for.
Her lashes fluttered and her eyes opened when he pulled back slightly. His hands were still cupping her cheeks as he searched her eyes. They stared at one another for several long moments before he finally nodded to himself. It was as if he’d been testing a theory.
Wendy could already imagine what that theory was, and she didn’t agree with it at all.
In order to prevent him from saying anything, she placed a finger to his lips.
“I can’t do serious, Tripp. I just…” How could she tell him that it wasn’t the act of having a serious boyfriend that gave her pause.
It was dating a man who could discard someone so easily and move onto the next.
Her heart wouldn’t be able to take losing him if they let themselves get closer than they were in this moment.
A frown creased his brows, but he didn’t completely pull away.
She heaved a heavy breath and reached up to grasp his wrists.
Pulling his hands from her face, she forced herself to look him in the eye.
“I don’t mind seeing you—casually, of course.
I like spending time with you.” And heaven knew their chemistry was off the charts.
“I get the feeling we’re on the same page when it comes to that. ”
A small nod was all he offered.
She smiled. “Then how about we switch it up a little? Friends… who kiss… sometimes.”
One side of his mouth quirked upward. “No strings attached.”
“Exactly.” Though, even as she said it, a churning sensation started in her gut. It wasn’t ideal, obviously. But it was the only thing that made sense when it came to keeping herself safe.
“Okay. I can do that.” He said it with such confidence, she wanted to get angry. But how could she? This was her idea. She refused to look at this as giving him exactly what he wanted.
Nope.
This was the way she would take charge over something she wanted. And she wanted to enjoy the time she spent with Tripp while she could.
Tripp moved to lean against the door at her side. They rested there, shoulder to shoulder as they stared out at the rest of the street. There weren’t many people coming and going. It was nice to revel in each other’s company. “So. That typewriter…”
She grinned, not meeting his eyes. “You never know when to let it go, do you?”
He shrugged. “I think you knew that already.”
Just like when he promised her one day she’d fall in love with him. She wanted to laugh. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”
“You should get one.”
Wendy scoffed. “Maybe one day.”
“Why not today?” He turned his head to face her.
She kept her eyes trained on the building across the street. “Because it has to be earned.”
Tripp snorted, drawing her focus. His eyes pierced into hers, catching her off guard. “Something like that doesn’t need to be earned, sweetness. Something like that is more like…” He looked skyward briefly then his gaze bounced back to her. “Inspiration.”