Chapter 24
Elias
Iwas wrong about Nora.
Again.
Monroe will gloat and have an “I told you so” ready for me the next time I see him.
Worth it, though.
I’d gotten off my asterisk and stopped feeling sorry for myself. My gesture wasn’t grand by any stretch of the imagination, but it was enough. Nora forgave me for running off when I misread the situation.
And then we kissed.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never get that face paint out of my beard, but again, totally worth it.
“I’ve seen that look before,” Dad says with a grunt as he hammers in a nail for the shelving idea Nora had. “You’re hopelessly in love.”
I frown at him. “I’ve never been in love before.”
“Not on your face.” He chuckles. “On mine. In the mirror. With your mom.”
We work together to hang the shelf, both of us breathing heavily because it’s not exactly light. But eventually we get it hung. After, we stop to take a break, each of us downing our fresh iced tea Nora brought us before she disappeared to paint baseboards in the back of the house.
“It’s still new,” I tell him, glad my beard covers my red cheeks. “I barely know her.”
Dad shakes his head. “You’re about as smart as that box of nails over there.”
“Gee, thanks Dad,” I deadpan.
He roars with laughter and playfully punches my shoulder.
“I’m just saying you’re a bit in denial.
You’ve been spending pretty much twenty-four-seven with this girl.
Not to mention, Goldie already told you everything there is to know about her.
Besides, I married your mom as quick as I could.
Your sister married Warren after only two months of dating. It’s a Cove thing. Mark my words.”
As much as his words have me secretly grinning, I’m also realistic and practical.
This thing with Nora is still a little messy.
We figured out that we actually do like each other and shared an epic kiss, but the rest is still a little chaotic.
Neither of us have brought up what happens when this house sells.
Does she move back to New York? Our relationship is too new to pack up and go after her.
Plus, the idea of doing that seems like a nightmare.
Not because of her.
Because a guy like me doesn’t fit in at a place like that.
She said she liked this slow living she’s been doing. But it was vague at best. Definitely not set in stone.
You could ask her, man.
Why is my inner voice sounding like Monroe?
Since the work doesn’t wait, we get back to it. We make great progress on all the cosmetic stuff which is necessary to get it to sell. All the boring stuff like replacing the hot water heater isn’t something that will be noticed right away.
I’m impressed that Nora was able to repaint all the baseboards and doors. The kitchen cabinets now have a vintage look after me and Dad roughed up the paint a bit with sandpaper. Nora wants to wallpaper the hallway still, but again, not a rush for selling the house.
We’re finally close to being done.
“I think we’re at a good stopping point this afternoon,” Dad says as he packs up his tools. “We’ll get this placed tidied up and then I’ll be out you two lovebirds’ hair.”
I groan and Nora giggles. At least she’s a good sport. You have to be with my family.
“Where are we going?” Nora asks as we drive through town. “Somewhere fancy?”
“Do you want to go somewhere fancy?”
“Not dressed in cut-off shorts, flip-flops, and a paint-stained T-shirt.”
I chuckle. I’m no better in my holey T-shirt and old-as-dirt jeans. “It’s a surprise. You’re hungry, right?”
As soon as Dad left, we took off to find a bite to eat. I’d asked her on another “date” and she happily agreed. I’m sure her dates with Denver were pricey, but I can guarantee the food on mine will taste better.
She sits up straighter in the truck seat when I pull into the Blue Mask Marina. There’s a fish and chips place there called Darnaby Rose that has the best hushpuppies I’ve ever eaten. Plus, they have pie. Every kind you can think of. The strawberry pie is the best.
“Ohh,” Nora says when I open the truck door on her side. “It smells good.”
“Tastes even better. Plus, everyone dresses like this.”
She beams at me as she takes my hand. I like how it feels in mine. Tiny, soft. I want to kiss her again, but the moment hasn’t been right. Yesterday, on the dock, it was kind of perfect. Hard to live up to that kiss.
But I’d like to try, dagnabbit.
As usual, Darnaby Rose is pretty busy. We luck out, though, and snag a table under an awning on the back patio that overlooks the boats coming in and out of the marina. The smell of freshly caught fish is pungent, but the frequent whiff of hot, greasy hushpuppies is a nice treat.
“Y’all want a couple of cold beers?” a waitress with a name tag of Annabell, asks, one hand on her hip and the other slapping down menus in front of us. “Two-dollar drafts for happy hour.”
“Sweet iced tea with three lemon wedges for the lady and I’ll have one without all that sugar,” I tell Annabell.
“Boring,” Annabell says. “And is the lady’s voice box broken?”
Nora chuckles. “Not broken. He just knows me well. I like it.”
Annabell rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the smile on her lips before she leaves. Nora beams at me and I give her a wink.
After Annabell drops off our drinks and a complimentary basket of cheddar and onion biscuits and a bowl of coleslaw for each of us, she leaves us to peruse the menu.
“What’s a must-have?” Nora asks. “I can’t decide. It all looks so good.”
“The best is what they’re known for. Fish and chips. And, of course, the hushpuppies.” I thump the other side of the menu. “But I’m a fan of their shrimp broil pots. If you want, we could get one of each and share.”
“I’m in,” she says, grinning. “This is a fun date.”
I get lost looking at her pretty face until Annabell rudely interrupts me. Well, maybe not rudely, but I’m butthurt, nonetheless.
“I still can’t believe you birdnapped all those budgies yesterday.” She sips on her sweet tea and then shakes her head. “Were they mad?”
I threw them two hundred-dollar bills. With those skeezy breeders, all they care about is money. They’re fine.
“They’ll get over it,” I say with a grunt. “Sorry I made your job harder. I know you’re trying to rehome the budgies, not bring in more.”
A strange look passes over her face and she nods, not meeting my stare. Maybe I shouldn’t have nabbed them. An uncomfortable silence falls upon us. It’s on the tip of my tongue to discuss her future plans, but I’m too much of a chicken to bring it up.
What if she tells me what I don’t want to hear?
Luckily, before Monroe’s voice can nag at me inside my head, Annabell shows up with our food. That’s the thing about this place. They’re fast. Always cooking in big batches, so it’s easy to whip up a plate for new people coming in.
Though I’ve been here easily a million times, it’s cool watching Nora enjoy one of my favorite places. She loves each thing she tries, especially the hushpuppies. I conned the recipe out of the owner’s greedy hands once, so I’ll have to make them another day for her.
If she stays…
My stomach churns and I decide that’s enough seafood for the day. Nora must have a bottomless pit for a stomach because she continues to munch her way through our enormous spread of food.
“Got any room in there for pie?” I ask, arching an eyebrow up.
She groans, pats her belly, and nods. “I saved a little corner.”
Like our lunch, we have Annabell bring us a slice of strawberry pie and a slice of lemon meringue. We also grab a slice of chocolate meringue and key lime to-go.
“How have you been holding out on me with this place?” Nora asks after I pay and drop a good tip on the table for our waitress.
“There are a lot of good places around here. I want to show you them all. One at a time.”
“In slow motion,” she complains. “That tracks with you.”
If it keeps her here longer, it seems like a pretty solid plan if you ask me.
I carry the to-go boxes, and Nora loops her arm through mine. It feels so very right having her at my side. I want to do this every day. Go places with her. Eat, sightsee, rescue budgies. I want her to want that too.
When we make it back to the house, Mom is out of her car, taking pictures of the cottage next door. I run the pie slices inside my house and then come back out to find Nora talking to her.
“I know it’s not super ready,” Mom says to Nora, voice filled with excitement, “but we have some buyers already interested. I figured I could post some photos to tease. We’ll update them after the boys make their repairs.”
Mom snaps several more pictures of the front yard, focusing on the colorful hydrangea bushes in front of the porch. She mutters to herself, saying something along the lines of, “This cute cottage will get snapped up in a second.”
Nora’s smile is stiff and forced. It has alarm bells ringing in my skull. This isn’t the first time she’s gotten weird today. Something’s going on inside that pretty blond head of hers.
“You okay?” I ask under my breath as we follow Mom inside.
Nora gives me a clipped nod. Definitely not okay then.
I close the door behind me so the air conditioning inside the house won’t escape but keep a close eye on Nora.
Mom does her realtor spiel, snapping pictures of everything, and praising what a good job we did.
I watch Nora’s every move. All the fake smiles.
The rigid posture. The quick breaths coming out of her.
It takes about forty-five minutes for Mom to get what she needs for the listing. After she hugs us both, she leaves. The silence is deafening. Nora walks over to the window. Out front, Mom wrangles one of her signs out of her trunk. Then, with Hulk strength, she beats the sign into the grass.
Nora bursts into tears.
“Hey,” I say, voice tight with worry. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Nora.”
With her face buried in her hands, she sobs and shakes her head.
I may not like criers, but I like Nora. If I can take away the pain she’s in, I’d like to try.
I draw her to me and hug her tight. At first, she’s stiff like a statue, but as I rub soothing circles on her back, she relaxes into my hold.
Since she doesn’t seem keen on talking about it, I do all I can. Whisper assurances. Stroke her back. Embrace her. Maybe yesterday has finally caught up to her. Maybe the hushpuppies aren’t sitting right with her. Whatever it is, she needs comfort and I’m more than happy to give it to her.
When she calms down, I slip my hands into her hair and gently move her head so she’s looking up at me. Even upset and cheeks stained with tears, she’s beautiful.
“Nora?”
She opens her mouth like she might speak, but then we hear the mailman pull up. To my disappointment, she slips out of my hold, excuses herself, and rushes to check the mail.
Something’s going on with her.
I will figure it out.