Chapter Eight
Jo
The old sedan coughed once, twice, then roared to life like it had been holding a grudge and finally decided to forgive me. I patted the dash. “Good girl.”
She’d been Silas’s car. He could have bought new, but he said this one mattered. After Silas’s death, it had become Frank’s project.
Now, my distraction.
I had it running by late morning and thankfully Nate had yet to surface from the house with those eyes that saw too much. Our kiss replayed anyway. Warm, stubborn, completely uninvited. I had pulled away first, but not before my brain filed the memory under Do Not Delete.
Stupid, Jo. Avoiding him was the only smart play. As soon as he left, I’d pack up. I’d vanish. Simple.
I backed the sedan out of the garage, tires slipping over packed snow, and headed for town.
Brewed Awakening smelled like cinnamon and fresh bread. Milo was already in motion behind the counter, apron tied tight, some curls escaping a knit cap. He was a born-and-bred local who talked about wanting to move away but never did.
He spotted me and lit up. “Well, look who decided to resurface. Did you go anywhere for Thanksgiving?”
“No. It was blissfully quiet.” I slid onto a stool. “Large black coffee. And whatever sweet, sugary special you have today.”
He produced a chocolate croissant like a magician revealing a dove. “Will this do?”
I sighed. “Oh, yes.” And took the plate from him.
He smiled as he said, “I’m shocked you’re here. Heard you have a gorgeous visitor up at the farm.”
I froze mid-bite. Even though I knew talk was harmless in this town, it was still unsettling to remember how closely they paid attention to everything. “He’s okay. Besides, he’s Silas’s nephew.”
“Gabe texted me a photo of him. Said he came into the gas station yesterday and was a real dick. Call me lame and lonely, but I’d be willing to overlook some major flaws for that face.”
I smiled at that. Imagine if the solution was that simple. “You can have him.” My voice sounded too quick for my own taste.
Milo leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. “Liar.”
I forced myself to meet his gaze. “He’s not my type.”
“Tall. Good-looking. Loaded. He’s everyone’s type.” Milo straightened and laughed. “And this is the first time I’ve seen you flustered, so I call bullshit.”
My guard had begun to lower around the people in town and that risked putting all of us in danger. Still, I didn’t see the risk in a little honesty on this subject. “He is good-looking,” I admitted.
Milo lit up. “And?”
“And full of himself.”
“Does he have reason to be?”
I bit into my croissant again, chewed and swallowed before answering. “Well, he’s everything you said, so if I were him maybe I’d have a big ego too.”
“It’s not the size of his ego I’m curious about.”
I choked on a laugh at that. “Now that . . . I have no idea.”
“You didn’t catch a glance? A little rub? Nothing?”
I chuckled again then remembered the significant bulge that had pressed against me when we’d kissed. My face warmed a little. “Sorry, no.”
He sighed, then softened. “Considering the car he drives, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a puny pecker.”
I opened my mouth to say something, decided against it, then just shrugged and smiled.
Milo picked up a rag and began to clean off the counter. “Oh, my God, I’m gossiping like the Winston sisters. Before I know it I’ll be considering dying my hair blue . . . and not the cool shade, the little old lady shade. I need to get out of this town.”
“Me too.” I mumbled into my coffee.
Milo tilted his head. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” I stood, then caught myself. “I should get going.”
He grinned and switched gears like he always did when he sensed a boundary. “Not so fast. Help me decorate. Walt wants lights up now that Thanksgiving is over. Next comes carols on repeat. Save me.”
I should have said no. I needed to hit the hardware store to see if they had packing boxes.
I liked Milo, though, and it was impossible to say no when he turned puppy-dog-like pleading eyes on me.
When I’d first come to town, the idea of stringing lights in the open where anyone could see me would have made me nervous.
Now, it sounded oddly comforting. Also, it kept me off the farm.
I set my coffee down. “Okay, but let’s make it quick. ”
Milo dragged a plastic tub from under the counter and flipped the lid to reveal a tangle of white cords, cold to the touch. We made our way outside, grabbed a ladder, and started hanging the lights.
Snow flurries drifted sideways, catching on the edges of the sign. My fingers were cold, but busy. Dad and I hadn’t decorated for the holidays. We moved around too much to want to cart decorations around with us, and buying new each season felt like a waste.
Milo made a joke about me being worse about balancing the lights than he was. I tossed one of the clips at him.
From behind me I heard a familiar deep voice. “He’s right. You need to pull the string a bit, so you have more lights on the left or it’ll look lopsided.”
I spun and nearly fell off the ladder as I did. Nate grabbed the ladder’s legs to steady it, a move that brought him close and his face at my waist height.
“I’ve got you,” he said.
My breath hitched. “I’m fine,” I ground out.
“You are,” he said with a glint of laughter in his eyes. “But I’ll still make sure you don’t fall on your ass.”
“I should go.” Milo said quickly. “You two seem to have this under control.”
Alone with Nate, I was torn between pretending I wasn’t bothered by his close proximity and demanding he step away from the ladder. I stood there, leaning back against the steps, while holding a string of lights in one hand. “I didn’t know you were coming to town.”
He searched my face. “I wanted to make sure you had a ride back if the car had more issues.”
After so many years of not trusting or relying on anyone outside of my father, I was still learning how to respond to others watching out for me.
Silas. Frank. The people in town. They’d all been so nice to me.
Now, Nate appeared to also want to watch out for me.
Losing Silas had proven, though, what I should have remembered right along .
. . the only person I could really rely on was myself.
“Thank you,” I said huskily. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to adjust the string of lights. ”
“Go ahead.”
I glanced at the clips that were behind me. “I’d have to turn around.”
“And?”
“And if you don’t step back that would put my ass directly in your face.”
He smirked. “And?”
Heat flooded my body and I did my best to look annoyed, but I doubt I pulled it off. I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly toppled the ladder myself. “You’re impossible.”
“Only on days that end in Y.” He didn’t move. “Come on, Jo. Turn around. I’ll behave.”
The way he said my name, like it was a dare, sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the snowflakes landing on my eyelashes.
I muttered something that might’ve been a curse, then pivoted carefully.
My butt hovered inches from his face. I felt his warmth all around me but did my best to ignore how good that felt.
“Perfect view,” he said, voice low and amused. “I’ve never understood why people decorate, but I do now.”
“Shush, you’re distracting me.”
He chuckled. I reached across the ladder, freed a section of the lights I’d already fastened, then tried to reach the next section.
When I couldn’t, I climbed higher on the ladder.
One strong hand settled lightly on my lower back.
Steadying, not groping. Still, my pulse stuttered like a bad carburetor.
“Left side,” he instructed, thumbs brushing the belt loops of my jeans. “Two more inches.”
I obeyed, hyper-aware of every point of contact. When I twisted to check my work, I made the mistake of looking down at him. Desire darkened his gaze and the temptation to bend and kiss him was heady. “Better?” I asked, breathless.
“Much.” His gaze skittered to my mouth. “Or are we still talking about the lights?”
I swallowed. “Of course. Focus.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He laughed softly, the sound rumbling against the back of my legs. “In that case, they’re even now.”
I told myself to, but I couldn’t turn away.
No man had ever looked at me the way he was .
. . like there was nothing more important to him and nowhere else he wanted to be.
In that moment, I didn’t feel like someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders.
I was just a beautiful woman looking longingly into the eyes of an equally beautiful man.
This is how simple life is for some people.
Just not me.
I spun and started to climb down fast. Too fast. And my foot slipped on a rung. I was falling. Nate caught me around the waist and my back slammed against his chest before my rump slid down the front of him.
Every glorious, hard inch of him.
His hands came to rest on my hips to steady me as my feet settled on the ground. From behind me, he murmured, “You okay?” He was not letting go.
“Yes,” I lied, telling myself that the longer I stayed there, pressed against him and his hardening excitement, the worse I was making the situation. Be smarter than this. My cheeks burned. “Sorry . . . gravity.”
“I’m suddenly pro-gravity.”
“How very controversial of you,” I quipped, shooting for witty.
From the doorway of the coffee shop Milo called out, “I’ll finish the rest. You two, run along and have fun.”
“You really do sound like the Winston sisters,” I called back and straightened out of Nate’s reach.
Milo’s response was a laugh and making a heart shape with his hands before closing the door. I closed up the ladder and nodded toward the empty storage bin. “Milo is a wise ass, but we should take these inside for him.”
Nate moved to stand in front of me. “I’ll carry the ladder.”
“I’ve got it.”
He didn’t budge. “Jo, hand me the damn thing.”
My grip tightened on it. “No.”
His head tipped to one side as he studied me. “Why?”
My breathing shallowed. “Because I’m already holding it.”
“I promise not to steal it.”
I pressed my lips together before saying, “I am perfectly capable of carrying a ladder.”
“I can see that, but I’m here and I’d like to take that weight from you.”
His words hit hard and I winced. “I’m not asking you to.”
He held out a hand and his voice deepened. “I know.”
“I don’t need you to,” I ground out.
He nodded.
I lowered the ladder to the ground but still clung to it. “There’s no one here to impress. Milo let me carry it out here.”
His gaze was steady, unrelenting. “This isn’t about anyone but me and you.”
“And control?”
“Is that what carrying the ladder into the coffee shop for you would give me?”
My voice was hoarse. “Of course not.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
I shook my head.
He stepped closer, placing his hands over mine. “Silas offered you a place to stay and then he left you.”
Anger surged in me . . . an anger that came hand in hand with another emotion I was fighting to keep at bay . . . fear. “He died. I’m not angry with him for that.”
“Yes, you are,” Nate said quietly. “And that’s . . .”
“Horrible?” I choked out.
He removed the ladder from my grasp and pulled me to his chest, tucking my head beneath his chin. His arms wrapped around me and his lips moved against the side of my head. “I was about to say normal.”
I shuddered against him.
From the door, Milo called out, “Leave the ladder, I’ll get it later.”
I flipped him off.
Milo laughed and closed the door again.
“Did you just . . .?” Nate asked.
“I did.”
He kissed my forehead. “You can talk to me, Jo.”
Letting out a shaky breath, I said, “I’m fine.”
“I mean it.”
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat and sniffed.
He hugged me tighter. “You sure are stubborn.”
That gained him a chuckle. “So I’ve been told.”
He leaned back and tipped my head upward. “I knew you were trouble from the moment I laid eyes on you.”
“Was it the gun?”
He laughed then set me back from him. “I wish that were the only way you were dangerous.”
Reality hindered my ability to bask in the warmth of his gaze. “Me too.”