Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
NATE
N ate lost all sense of time and place, aware only of Juliet—of her presence, her scent, the feel of her skin.
From the moment they met, he couldn’t deny her beauty or his attraction.
But now, her allure ran so much deeper than the physical. Her mind enthralled him. Not only her knowledge of poetry and literature, but her poignant insights. He wanted to know every thought she’d ever had, from the profoundly philosophical to the more mundane.
The desire to connect on a deeper level drove him to madness. How else could he explain his actions? He hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Even when he dated, he didn’t jump to the physical. He never kissed on a first date, let alone before a first date.
And yet, here he stood, staring into the most stunning eyes he’d ever seen, dark and velvety, like the richest French roast. But also soft and soulful, like a window into her innermost thoughts—the thoughts that captivated his undivided interest.
Her lips parted a centimeter more, as if granting him permission.
He lowered his head, his heart beating wildly.
This is it. The point of no return .
As his bottom lip grazed hers, covering his skin in goose bumps, the unexpected cadence of drums crashed through the stillness.
The military-style percussion emanating from his front pocket thrummed through his body, rewiring his brain.
His muscles tensed, and he bolted upright.
The peppy voices of Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye pounded in his ears as they merrily belted the jaunty lyrics to “Gee, I Wish I Was Back in the Army.”
In a single instant, a switch flipped, leaving Nate disorientated, grappling to gain control of his emotions. Sweat slicked his palms, and he fumbled with his phone, shutting off the song before stuffing the cell back inside his pocket.
“Are you okay?” Juliet’s concerned voice broke through the wall of confusion. She placed a hand on his chest. Could she feel his erratic heartbeat?
He couldn’t find the words to answer her.
“Come with me.” She led him by the hand into the sitting room, settling him on the couch in front of the fire. A moment later, she returned with a glass of water and sat beside him. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly.
“I—” He hesitated, taking a gulp of water. It slid down his throat, crisp and cold. What could he say? He had no idea why he’d reacted so strangely to a harmless song. There wasn’t a simple explanation, no matter how badly he wanted one. “I’m fine.”
She didn’t respond at first, merely gazing into the flickering flames. After a minute or two of thoughtful silence, she asked, “Implicit flashback?”
He stared in surprise. “You know the term?”
“I’ve witnessed them quite a few times. I work for a nonprofit that aids women who’ve escaped domestic violence and human trafficking.”
Nate studied her profile in the amber glow, stunned by what she’d shared. She continued to amaze him. And every new thing he learned about her made him like her even more. “I had no idea.” Guess he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover or bumper sticker.
She smiled. “We sort of skipped the get-to-know-you questions.”
“I work part-time as a security guard at a jewelry store and volunteer at Forgotten Heroes.” He suddenly wanted to lay everything on the table—to know every detail about her and to be fully known in return.
Her eyes widened. “You do? I thought—” She snapped her mouth shut.
“What?”
Her cheeks colored with the faint blush of embarrassment. “When my aunt said they’d agreed to host someone from the homeless shelter, I thought…” She trailed off as if she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
Nate laughed a deep, rumbling laugh of disbelief.
“What’s so funny?”
“Let me get this straight.” He choked back another chuckle. “You’d kiss a guy without a job or place to live, as long as he can pronounce Proust?”
She blinked, clearly not grasping the irony. “What are you talking about?”
“Your bumper sticker. ‘If he can’t pronounce Proust, then cut him loose.’”
“Oh!” Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a giggle. “I’m borrowing my mom’s car. That’s her bumper sticker, not mine.”
“That explains a lot.” He’d learned a valuable lesson about jumping to conclusions.
“So, this whole time you had me down as—what? A literary snob?”
“Something like that.”
“And yet, you still wanted to kiss me?” Her dark eyes danced with humor.
“ Wanted to?” he repeated. “Past tense?” His lips twitched as he recalled the moment in Luke’s truck when she’d said something similar.
“Well, I—uh—” she stammered, adorably flustered. Her pupils dilated, and his body responded to the physical cue, inching closer on the couch.
The delicate tendril grazing her cheek tempted him again, only this time, he gave in to the longing, stroking it lightly with his fingertips.
She shivered beneath his touch, her breath quickening.
He could so easily take her in his arms, blocking out the world—and every haunting memory from his past—with her perfect lips. But he didn’t want to use her affection as a salve for his pain. Or take a single step further without removing any possible pretense. If he pursued Juliet, he wanted to do it right—with one hundred percent transparency.
Even if it ruined his chance with her.
“Jules,” he said slowly, savoring the way the sweet syllable rolled off his tongue. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” she murmured in a sultry rasp that nearly sent him over the edge. As she spoke, she placed a hand on his forearm, stealing the words from his mouth with the simplest touch.
Once he told her the truth, would she still want him?