27. Alex
27
ALEX
T he video footage I took of Nora’s big reveal is completely unusable, because the instant the stylist spun her around and stepped out of the way, my hand dropped to my side. The result is that all you can see is a close-up of my olive-green cargo shorts and an upside-down view of the woman behind us with her silver hair in curlers.
I spend the whole drive home trying to recover some sense of the cool that I lost when I saw her. Thankfully we met at the salon and are driving separately to my house or else it would be a lost cause. I would be uncontrollably distracted by her long hair which is, as she described it, very much her . It’s hard to explain the glow she had when she saw herself. It was like she sat up straighter and looked herself in the eye. I loved seeing her so confident. She was beautiful before, but her new self-assurance makes her stunning.
I have a feeling our views are about to skyrocket.
I beat her home and let myself in through the garage, striding through the house to open the front door for her. I have regained at least some amount of chill by the time she steps inside, but it goes away instantly when she slides past me and I catch a whiff of a new scent that must have come from whatever the stylist used on her hair at the salon. It’s not her usual strawberry—this smells sharper but still sweet, like citrus.
I swallow a groan. I’m beginning to get the feeling that this is going to be the opposite of a relaxing evening. All I want to do is pull her into my arms and see if I can taste that citrus, run my fingers through her hair and see if it’s really as silky as it looks.
But I can’t. As much as I want to, I know Nora could do better than me. She could have her pick of any number of guys who don’t have a whole cargo ship load of romantic baggage.
She kicks off her sandals and perches on a stool at the island, propping her chin in one hand. “I believe I was promised dinner.” Her playful gaze makes the longing expand until I feel like a party balloon that’s about to pop. I turn away to ease the pressure.
“Coming right up.”
I try not to think about her watching me as I pull out pots and pans, preparing to make a pasta recipe I saw online the other day. The video made it look simple with just a few ingredients, so hopefully I can pull it off even in my less-than-focused state.
“What are you making?” she asks. “Do you want any help?”
“Pasta and nope, I’ve got it.” I keep my voice light but what I really want to say is Please don’t come over here and make me crank my self-discipline levels into overdrive .
“I can at least get us drinks,” she says, hopping down from the stool. “Getting a makeover made me thirsty.”
Thankfully she stays on the other side of the kitchen, pulling down two glasses and filling them with ice.
She’s quiet as I boil water for the pasta and sauté mushrooms and peas in butter. When I dare to glance up at her, I see she’s watching me, her expression thoughtful.
“What’s going on in your head?” I ask as I stir.
“I was thinking about change and how it’s always stressful but not always bad. Like how I was really nervous about changing my hair, but it turns out I really like it. Or how I almost didn’t contact you about using your kitchen because I was scared to do the show.”
This catches my attention, and I frown. “I didn’t know that. What were you scared of?”
She twists her mouth to the side. “I was scared I was going to fail at this like I did culinary school. I thought nobody would watch it, you’d get tired of me hanging out in your kitchen, the recipes wouldn’t be good enough…all kinds of things.”
“First of all, you didn’t fail at culinary school. You passed all your classes up until that other student stole your idea, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Second, you are welcome to hang out in my kitchen whenever you want. Third, I’ve already told you your recipes are delicious. And if the number of views on the channel is any indication, the internet agrees.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s easy to hear all that now and know it was worth it. But I didn’t know anything when I had to decide whether to go for it or not.”
“That’s true,” I concede.
“But all that has got me thinking about if there are any other things in my life that I might want to change. Any other chances I might want to take.”
My heart speeds up as she slides off her stool and moves toward me. She stops beside me and lays a hand on my arm, tugging slightly to get me to turn and look at her.
“I think I’m ready to stop trying to deny the fact that I feel something for you, Alex.” Her eyes stay locked on my face, searching. “I’m almost sure that you feel the same way, so this is me, taking another chance today and hoping it turns out as well as the first one.” She smiles and fingers a lilac streak skimming the side of her face.
My hand rises of its own accord, and I skim my fingers lightly through the color, pushing it back from her face so that I can see her blue eyes more clearly. I’m aching to lean down and kiss her. I’m positive at this point that she’d welcome it, but I still hesitate for all the reasons I already reminded myself of.
She blinks slowly, waiting for my response. My self-control is almost at its limit, but I inhale deeply and give her one more chance to come to her senses and make a different choice. “You could do better than me. You know the things I did in my last relationship.”
“I know. And I don’t think you’re the same person anymore. You’re wiser, more mature. You’re also thoughtful, smart, funny, a good uncle and brother, handsome…”
I cup her cheek in my hand, my thumb brushing gently over her cheekbone. “Handsome, huh?”
“That’s the only thing you heard out of that list?” Her laugh sounds breathless.
“No, I heard it all.” I heard it all and my heart swelled more with every word. I want it to be true. I want to be the man she described. Maybe all I have to do is decide that’s who I am and live it out. And maybe I can do it with Nora at my side, encouraging me and holding up a mirror to show me who she sees, who I can strive to be.
I can’t hold back any longer. With one hand still cradling her face, I wrap my other arm around her waist and pull her to me. Her hands slide up to rest on my chest, and she rises on her toes to meet me halfway, our lips melding together with all the longing we’ve been denying these last few weeks.
My hand slides back to tangle in the soft hair at the back of her neck, and I angle my head to deepen the kiss. She matches me in fervor and eagerness and I feel a bliss unlike anything I’ve ever known. My senses are on high alert as I taste her, smell her, hear her quickened breathing, and feel her hands slide up around my neck, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin on the back of my neck.
Reality comes crashing back in with an unexpected and unwelcome jolt as the smoke alarm starts to blare deafeningly above us.
Nora jumps back and presses her hands to her ears as I whirl to the stove and grasp the handle of the pan containing the now charred mushrooms and peas. I douse the whole thing in the sink and grab a chair so I can reach the smoke alarm and stop the high-pitched beeping.
When I turn back to Nora, I’m breathing hard, a combination of the kiss and the adrenaline the alarm triggered. Her lips look pink and swollen, and her is hair mussed where I’d had my hand in it, but she looks happy. Her eyes crinkle at the corners as she breaks down in hysterical laughter. Her mirth is contagious, and I can’t help but join her, despite the mess I made of our dinner.
I reach for her as the laughter starts to wind down, pulling her to me. Her arms come around my back and she lays her head against my chest. My chin rests on top of her hair, and I hold her tenderly, amazed by how perfectly she seems to fit against me, like two puzzle pieces clicking into place.
“Well?” I ask. “Did that turn out well enough for you to keep taking chances?”
I feel her nod, her response muffled in my shirt. “Yep. That was a risk worth taking.”
“I’m sorry I burned the food. Guess that means I need to keep getting cooking lessons from you, huh?”
She pulls back to look at me, eyes shining. “I think so. But never fear, we can still salvage those noodles.”
I release her with a smile. “You’ll have to show me what to do. I only had one idea and it literally went up in smoke.”
She reaches up and pats my chest with one hand. “You drain those noodles and I’ll grab a few things.”
Minutes later, we’re enjoying a simple but satisfying meal of cacio e pepe, which I am told means “cheese and pepper.” Nora made sure I knew it wasn’t authentically Italian since we had to substitute parmesan for pecorino romano cheese, but it tastes great to me.
“What should we do after dinner?” I ask around a bite of pasta. Nora sits beside me at the island, so close our knees keep brushing, which sends constant tingles of electricity dancing through me.
“Oh, I have an idea,” she says slyly, and I grin, pretty sure we’re having the same thought. “I owe you a bucket of ice water, remember?”
That is most definitely not the thought I was having, but I did tell her she could, so I resign myself to a chilly evening. Maybe we’ll have a few minutes to warm up after.