Chapter Six
Rachel
“Your car was still in the lot at the library when I left at five. Was that because you rode a lumberjack home?” Joy’s voice invaded my ear, and I was glad I hadn’t put the call on speakerphone.
“It’s a long story.” I glanced over my shoulder at Brody.
He had gotten to his feet with far less pain than when we’d arrived.
His long, sleek hair was still tucked neatly into the braid I’d done even after our cuddle fest, and there was a crease in the side of his face from my pillow.
I could’ve eaten him up, honestly. Seeing the prickly man melt under my touch had been almost too much.
And then I thought he wanted to kiss me.
Fuck. I should’ve just gone for it.
“Earth to Rachel, are you still there?”
I forced myself to turn away and walk into the living room. “Yeah, I’m here. Brody is too.”
“Oh, girl, you work fast. How was it? Amazing? When’s the wedding? Can I be the maid of honor?”
I laughed. “Slow down there, romance-novel junkie. He hurt his back and took a nap.”
“Hurt his back? What kind of kinky—”
“His back was hurt before I met him, Joy. Calm down.”
“Fine, so you cared for him and…”
“And I guess I liked having him here, okay? Happy?” It was the first time I had fully admitted it even to myself.
“I will be once you make your move.”
“I—I needed to focus on the project right now,” I said lamely, my stupid analytical brain trying to poke holes in the way my heart was beating too fast in my chest.
“Girl, lighten up. Getting laid is not going to derail your research. It doesn’t even have to take that long. You can’t have your knees up by your ears for hours once you’re in your forties. Trust me.”
I rubbed my temples. “Oh my God, Joy.”
She giggled. “What? I’m telling the truth. Your man already has a bad back. You need some like orthopedic sex positions. It can still be amazing, you just have to, you know, stretch it out first. Incorporate a lounge chair of some kind.”
I felt myself blushing all the way to the top of my head, even though Joy’s words weren’t exactly sexy, there was a reason her fiancé was the writer, not her. “We’re not ninety, Joy, but thank you for that insight.”
“No problem. Just remember, the right partner only makes life better, you know? Aiden is a grumpy pants, and I’m—well, you know me. The whole opposites-attract thing is real. Besides, the grumpy ones always have a soft spot for the right person.”
I looked over my shoulder when I heard a footstep in the hall and watched Brody walk carefully toward me. He was all denim and plaid, solid and strong. I wanted to believe Joy was right. I just wasn’t sure I was as brave or as certain as she’d been about her man.
“I have to go. Talk to you later.”
I clicked off the call to the sound of Joy singing what sounded suspiciously like the soundtrack to a porno.
“Guess I should take you to get your car,” he said, scratching the back of his neck and stretching his shirt distractingly over his pecs.
I nodded. “Unless you want to stay.”
“Stay?”
“For dinner, I mean,” I added quickly.
He studied me for a second before his face carefully settled back into neutral. “I really shouldn’t. Thanks, though.”
My heart sunk into my stomach, and any appetite for dinner dried up.
The ride back to the library was quiet. He pulled his truck up front and watched as I got into my car and started the engine. Then he was gone, and I was left wondering if this whole should I thing was a pointless debate. There was no reason to decide if I was the only one feeling the connection.
******
The project really had two parts. We had to decide what information to include and compile it, but we also had to create a visual display.
I texted Brody the day after our impromptu nap, and we decided to divide and conquer the rest of the research, then come together the night before the heritage event to put everything together visually.
It was better this way. Easier to focus.
At least it would’ve been if my pillow didn’t still smell like pine trees and if I could get the image of him lying next to me out of my head.
Somehow, I did get my half of the work done, and by the time Friday night rolled around, I was sweating and shaky. I found myself fluffing my couch pillows while I waited for him to arrive.
Fluffing pillows.
Who the hell cared about a pillow’s fluff factor?
Finally—mercifully—there was a knock at the door, and I scuttled over to answer it.
He could’ve at least had the courtesy not to look hot. But no. He had that hardworking, jeans-fit-just-right, wide-and-capable thing going on just standing outside my front door.
I was in trouble.
“Uh, hey. Come on in,” I said. “This could take a while. Might as well get started.”
He nodded, and stepped through the door with a bag of stuff in one hand.
“How’s your back?”
“Your heating pad did the trick, and I’ve been trying to take it easy. It’s okay today. I went out to that cut block, and got some pictures.”
“Great,” I said, but the fact he went without me hit me hard. I shifted my weight, feeling awkward in my own space. We had a lot to do, and this was literally what I did for a living.
His presence altered everything.
I shook myself out of my stupor, reminding myself of the task at hand and how things had ended after we’d woken up next to each other earlier this week. “Alright, let’s get to work then.”
We spread out the information and pictures we had on my coffee table and started organizing them, before falling into the task easily enough, deciding what to display and where.
We would have to put all the information up on the board tomorrow morning before the event started, but that would be easy if we planned well enough.
Time passed in relative silence, just the rustle of paper and a few short conversations. Even so, I was hyperaware of him. He took up more space in the room than just physical.
I could just keep my mouth shut. I could print information and organize, and forget that the little time I’d had with Brody had felt like we clicked in a way I’d never clicked with anyone else before.
Not love at first sight. But something, or the promise of something. Unless I was the only one feeling it.
I cleared my throat. “What did you get up to after you dropped me off at the library?”
He looked up from where he was folding pamphlets and shrugged. “Nothing really.”
I absorbed this. “So why didn’t you stay then? When I asked you to, I mean.”
He set the papers aside. “I wanted to, I just thought why you asked, and why I wanted to stay may have been two different things.”
I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”
He smoothed his hair back. Like always, it was pulled back in a tight braid.
“You probably invited me thinking you were being polite, and I had some less than polite ideas of what we’d do if I stayed.”