4. Julian
4
JULIAN
“ S tay there,” I tell Shae, watching her shift restlessly in the kitchen doorway. “I’ll clean up the mess.”
“I’ll help,” she says. “I’m the one who caused it.”
I can’t believe the stubborn logic of this woman. Here she is, injured and stuck in my house during a storm, and she’s worried about helping clean up. I grab paper towels from the counter, shaking my head. “Shae. Seriously. Take it easy. I’ve got it.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I point to one of the bar stools at my kitchen island. Her shoulders slump a little as she gives in, limping over to perch on the edge of the seat.
I make quick work of the clean-up, sweeping ceramic shards into the dustpan and blotting at the bloodstain until it fades from the unfinished floor. When I’m satisfied there’s no remaining sharp edges for her to step on, I move to the stove where my grandmother’s sauce still simmers. The rich aroma of tomatoes and herbs fills my nose as I plate our dinner.
I grab both plates and nod toward the great room. “Come on. I want to test out the fireplace while we eat.”
Within minutes, I’ve built up a fire in the hearth, flames crackling behind the iron grate and casting a warm glow across the room. We sit on the floor a few feet from the fireplace.
“This is really tasty.” She takes another bite of pasta. “Is there nutmeg in the sauce?”
I smile. “Sorry, that information is classified. The recipe’s strictly for my future children. Family tradition.”
She lets out a small laugh, then goes quiet, clearly unsure what to say next. She takes a bite of garlic bread. “This is really good, too. Very…garlicky.” Her eyes widen a little. “I mean, that’s a good thing. I like garlic.”
“Yeah, me too.” I flash her a grin. “Guaranteed romance killer, though, right?”
Color floods her cheeks, and I decide to change the subject. “So, Shae. How long are you going to be mad at me for building my house where I did?”
She stares into the fire for a long moment. “It’s your property. You had the right to build wherever you wanted.”
“But?”
“But I moved here for solitude.”
I study her profile in the firelight. Christ, she’s so pretty. “Why’s solitude so important to you?”
She shifts uncomfortably, and I expect her to dodge the question. But then she says, quietly, “Being around people is exhausting. Every interaction feels like a test that I always fail.”
The vulnerability in her voice hits me harder than I’m prepared for. I had a feeling there was more to her than being prickly for the sake of being prickly, but hearing her lay it bare like this—knowing it comes from a place of genuine discomfort—makes my chest ache.
Before I can respond, she turns to me. “Why did you want to move here?”
I smile at her question, mulling over how to explain it. “I’ve always loved the idea of living in the woods. Maybe it’s because everything’s so lush, and it’s all wild and alive. I don’t know, I’m just drawn to it.”
Shae’s expression softens, and for a moment I glimpse something like understanding.
“At the same time, I love being around people,” I add. “That’s the main thing that kept me in town. That, and wanting to be close to work. It was pretty damn nice, being able to walk to the bar.”
“The bar?”
“Yeah, I’m a bartender at The Shanty, down in Fairhope.” My smile deepens. “You should stop by sometime. First drink’s on me.”
“Oh.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking uncomfortable. “Thanks, but I’m not really a bar person.”
“Well, the offer stands.” Damn. Isn’t there anything we have in common? “Anyway, earlier this year, I got a notice from my landlord. My apartment building was scheduled for construction work that was going to last months.” The fire crackles, sending sparks up the chimney. “It got me thinking. I’d been saving for a while, planning to buy my own place eventually. So I met with a realtor, started looking at properties in town. And during one of our meetings, I mentioned this old dream of living in the woods. Just in passing, you know?”
I pause, remembering the first time I walked this property. “He showed me this place the next day. The moment I set foot here, something clicked. Like everything I’d been looking for was right here in front of me.” I glance at Shae. “Was it like that for you too?”
Surprise flickers across her face, followed by something warmer. “It was. I spent a year and a half looking at properties before I found this one. The moment I walked onto this land, I knew it was perfect.”
I let out a laugh. “A year and a half? Damn, Shae. Your realtor must have been ready to tear her hair out.”
Her warmth vanishes. She sets down her fork and straightens, that familiar distance settling back into her posture. “It’s not like I wanted it to take so long. But I wasn’t going to settle for something I didn’t love. Not when I plan to spend the rest of my life here.”
I study her, fascinated. “The rest of your life, huh? So what you’re saying is, fifty years from now we’ll be a couple of cranky old neighbors, still arguing about that boulder?”
She scoffs. “I hope not.”
“Not what? You hope we won’t be neighbors? Or that we won’t still be arguing about the boulder?”
“I—” She furrows her brows, flustered. “I just meant—never mind.” Her gaze slides over to the nearest window. “God, I hope the storm stops soon.”
The wind howls outside, and a shiver runs through her despite the fire’s warmth. She tries to hide it, but I notice.
“Let me grab some blankets,” I say, rising to my feet. “We might as well get as comfortable as possible while we wait it out.”
When I return, the sight of her hits me with renewed force. She’s moved closer to the flames, her knees drawn to her chest, the fire casting a warm glow across her face and her unbelievable curves. It feels like she’s meant to be here, in my home, in front of my fire. With me. Not just for tonight, but for?—
No. That’s too dangerous of a thought to follow.
But the longing fills my chest anyway.