Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
MAY I KISS YOU?
ELOISE
“There’s no way that’s true,” Ezra damn near sputters out. “Never?”
The shake of my head confirms the validity of my confession.
I’ve never left Cherry Cove. Not in all my twenty-six years on this earth.
This wasn’t always the plan. I used to listen to my dad talk about the places he’d been as a travel writer before he met my mom. As a child, those stories filled my soul with the temptation to wander the earth, in search of whatever lessons the world wanted to teach me.
And then my parents died. And my dreams died with them.
Since then, I’ve convinced myself that I have everything I need right here—that without me, Bordeau Books wouldn’t survive. It’s the reason I never hired anyone, the reason I keep the shop open six days a week and work seven.
But all of that’s changing now that my sisters are here.
It was decided that my younger sister, Kitty, the one who bailed on me to run off to the city with Soph— Elizabeth —would come work part-time at the shop. And Elizabeth would work outside of her part-time summer school teaching position hours.
The idea both excites and frightens me, having to loosen my hold on the reigns and accept help in the store I’ve tried my hardest to keep alive.
“Unbelievable,” he says as we walk, taking our time along the old, abandoned dock.
It creaks and the wood has softened over time, but I’ve been here too often to be afraid.
I can see the fair from here, hear the town festivities. I can make out the bodies lined along the water’s edge, ready to see the sky light up.
“I’m guessing you’re well-traveled.” I try to keep the defensiveness from my tone, but it insists on having a seat at the table.
I don’t place my value on my ability to hop on a plane or drive over state lines, but I’m not sure how my present company feels about my lack of exploration.
“I am.”
His sigh makes me think that seeing the world may not be all I’ve decided it is. Perhaps this is what brought my sisters back, under the guise of coming to help our struggling business.
Maybe the roads most traveled are, indeed, lonely.
“Would you like to see more of it?” I ask, watching as the inky water laps over itself. The lake has always been my happy place. Sure, I haven’t seen the ocean in over eleven years. But I learned to swim here, learned to fish, learned how to run away from boys who wanted to pull the tie of my bikini top off.
These memories live here. And this is where I belong.
I can even see my home from here, just beyond Ezra’s left shoulder when I face him.
“Under the right circumstances,” he answers, his voice a quiet murmur.
“What would those look like?” I ask.
The first firework rockets through the air, and my question remains between us. But when I glance over at him, his eyes are on me.
Colors dance over him, lighting him up and setting my sights on fire.
He finally looks away and up at the sky, but I can’t take my eyes off the way the column of his neck stretches, interrupted by his Adam’s apple.
Between the loud booms, the sparkles littering the sky, and the man beside me, my senses are in overdrive.
It feels silly to stand next to a stranger while watching explosive pyrotechnic devices go off in the sky, just to make the kids across the water happy for a good twenty minutes before they’re back to screaming again. The silliest part is feeling this tingle between us that makes me want to scoff.
One look at him has the urge dying down.
I’ve been called a bitch. A cold-hearted woman. A pain in the ass, among other things.
Some of these came from my older sister at one time or another.
The rest came from bitter men who’d used a toothpick to try to get past my near impenetrable walls. It takes more than a compliment or two to get a smile out of me.
The last of the fireworks crackle in the sky, boom after boom filling the air as I find myself standing closer to Ezra.
“The grand finale,” he leans in to whisper in my ear, his fingertips brushing against my elbow.
It’s been years since I’ve seen this same show, determining it a waste of time after all of my friends left for college, or for men. Most of them are married with children now and have no time for their single friend back home.
I don’t need their pitying gazes, anyway. I have no desire to live like they do, as a slave to little monsters and men who barely look at them now that they’ve served their mating purpose.
But, at one time, this display of fireworks used to take my breath away. Now, with no one to see them with, I spend my time trying to make the best of a failing business.
When I sit alone, hopelessness claws at me, demanding I give it attention.
Here and now, it’s so far from where I stand.
I glance at Ezra, feeling his eyes on me again.
“You’re missing it,” I whisper.
He couldn’t have heard me, but he leans in and catches my chin before I’m able to look away.
His thumb presses against my mouth before dragging my bottom lip down. We’re closer than I’ve been to a man in quite some time. I’ve forgotten what this warmth feels like.
“You have no idea,” he tells me, close enough that I can hear it.
I want to ask him what he means but he leans in even closer, silently asking for permission.
He’s staring at me, his gaze intent as if those windows to his soul are wondering the same thing.
May I kiss you?
I close my eyes.
If I see it coming, like a storm, I’ll want to run away. I’ll want to find shelter.
But when he presses his lips to mine, it’s the gentlest of drizzles.
It’s sweet and tentative; something I hadn’t been ready for.
We pull away and after I open my eyes, I wish I hadn’t.
The storm is in his. I can see it, even as the last of the dazzling lights fade.
And he looks like he has no intention of leaving me unscathed.