3. Jewel #2
“No. I’ve completed my service with the 75th Ranger Regiment,” he says, placing another bundle of books beside me. “I’ll be joining my friend’s security company in just over a week. Ben, Parker, Tim, and I all served together, and they started the company a few years back.”
“But you stayed in longer?”
His hand freezes midair, a book clasped so tightly in it that the knuckles look white. “I did. Probably longer than I should have.”
I can’t see his face, but the tension in his back and shoulders speaks volumes. This is not a subject he wants to dive into, so I quickly change the topic.
“Have you read this book?” I ask as I pick one up from the top of the pile. “I love a murder mystery, and Agatha Christie’s are the best.”
He turns. “Are you a Poirot or Miss Marple fan?”
“Hard choice. But I’d have to say Hercule Poirot because Murder on the Orient Express is my favorite.”
“Me too,” he agrees, smiling down at me.
We clear the highest shelves first, and the stack of full cardboard boxes grows taller.
Working alongside Will makes the mammoth task more enjoyable than I’d ever have thought possible.
He’s the perfect helper. Not only can he reach the top shelf effortlessly, but he clearly loves books as much as I do.
Then, when we discover one we’ve both read, a lively discussion ensues.
A suspenseful murder mystery is a common favorite.
While I’m a steamy romance kind of girl, he’s more of a science fiction fan like my dad was, and there are plenty of paperbacks on the dusty shelves that capture his interest.
Will is full of interesting facts and conversation, but what I notice more about him is that he listens when I speak. Not just pretending to. No, he really listens, and I like that a lot.
By lunchtime, we’ve cleared all the bookshelves, leaving a stack of three boxes for me to take home to my apartment, a small pile of five books Will has selected to take with him, and several towers of boxes for the charity group to collect.
Washing my dusty hands in the kitchen sink, I ask, “How about I make us lunch? If you don’t need to rush off, that is?” I turn and watch him place a final box on the high stack next to the round wood dining table.
My eyes can’t look away from the flex of the deltoid muscles in his shoulders, the lengthening of his triceps, and then, even better, the bulge of his biceps as they shorten with the bend of his arm. This is arm porn at its finest and the stuff of this physiotherapist’s fantasies.
He clears his throat. “Jewel, did you just check me out?” he asks, grinning.
“Purely in the professional sense.” I rush to explain. “I like to run through the muscle groups in my head. It’s a quirky habit.”
It’s not an outright lie, more an embellishment of the truth to retain some small shred of dignity. The telltale heat rolling up my neck and across my cheeks confirming that I absolutely was checking him out.
One dark eyebrow rises high. “Sure you do,” he says, then gifts me with another of his deep chuckles that seems to have been pulled up from his diaphragm.
“But more importantly, you mentioned food. This body needs feeding.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, and I don’t miss the deliberate flex of his pecs.
“Oh, come on, stop that. You’re just showing off now,” I tell him, smiling. It feels like forever since I smiled like I have today. Maybe I’m slowly finding my way through the mire of misery, and it’s all thanks to the man in front of me.
Somehow, being with Will has me thinking of things that have nothing to do with sadness and loss. All morning, dirty and totally inappropriate thoughts have been popping into my head, and our chat has become more comfortable, even at times flirty.
I don’t think he’s like anyone I’ve ever met.
For someone whose movements are so fluid when he runs, at rest, there’s a stillness about him that’s a little disconcerting.
It makes me nervous. Not in a bad way. It’s more comforting, like a warm hot chocolate filling you with heat from the inside out.
And that’s the issue. He puts me at ease more than someone I’ve just met should.
Will pulls out a barstool at the end of the kitchen counter, while I take the fixings from the fridge to make our sandwiches.
“So, this hiding out thing you’re doing, how far does it go? Like, if I wanted to take you to dinner one night, would that be possible?”
Okay, maybe he is interested in me, and it’s hard not to hide the smile on my face.
“I guess if we went outside of Southampton, we could do that,” I offer before continuing, “Most of my father’s friends live in the area.
Apart from you, only my elderly neighbor, Miss Bridges, knows I’m here.
She’s a good listener like you and has been sworn to secrecy.
That’s like locking something into a vault when it comes to secrets. ”
He spins on his stool toward me. “I remind you of a sweet old lady? That hurts. I’m obviously doing something wrong.”
A laugh bursts from my lips; the comparison between him and the diminutive Miss Bridges is completely absurd. I try to compose myself.
“I like hearing you laugh, Jewel,” he says with smiling eyes. I think I like hearing me laugh again too. It feels like it’s been too long since I did that.
Our eyes connect again, and another rush of warmth ripples through my body.
His eyes don’t just see me, but they strip back my protective layers and penetrate deep down to the soft parts I keep hidden.
It’s like he recognizes the pain in my heart.
And somehow, he knows exactly when to delve deeper or change the subject.
Being so vulnerable with another person would normally scare me, but strangely, Will doesn’t.
I’ve never been comfortable sharing my emotions. Especially when I’ve only known someone for twenty-four hours. Yet here I am, letting him see the real me. I guess I’m just too weary of hiding it any longer.
Quickly looking away, I pick up our full plates and place them on the counter in front of him. His eyes follow me, and it’s like a warm caress.
“What’s next on the to-do list?” he asks, as I take the stool beside him.
Surprised, I turn to face him. “You don’t want to go after lunch?”
“Not unless you want me to.”
“No, not at all. I’m really grateful for your help. I just thought …”
Will spins my stool with me on it to face him, then places his hands on my shoulders. His piercing gaze captures mine again. “Jewel, I want to help you. It makes me feel useful. Please let me.”
His warm hands send all sorts of tingly messages south, and I clamp my thighs together.
Nothing about this feels like a friend helping a friend, but still, I tamp down the desire coursing through my veins.
Oh my God, he hasn’t even kissed me and I’m a melting hot mess.
I touch patients all day long, but having his large hands against my skin, with only a thin layer of fabric between us, is something else entirely.
Focusing back on his words, I decide to accept his help again. Just because I no longer have a family, it doesn’t mean I have to do everything alone. Will wants to help me, and I get the feeling it’s in his DNA to offer his service.
“Thank you,” I murmur my acceptance.
He drops his hands to his sides again. “Okay, so what do you need?” he asks, picking up his sandwich and taking a big bite.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat at the thought of what I’m about to say. “I haven’t been able to clear my dad’s closet. Could you do that? The local church has said they will take the clothes for a homeless shelter. My dad would have liked that.”
“Of course,” he agrees, then, noticing the emotion in my voice again, changes the subject. “This sandwich is really good. If I’m going to get a lunch like this, then I’ll be here every day offering to help.”
Just as he’s been doing all morning, he lifts my somber mood with his casual comment. I’m beginning to think Will is exactly what I need in my life right now.