11. Chapter 11 #2
I run to my room and throw on a cute pair of baggy jeans, a cropped white top, and my Birkenstocks.
I am honestly impressed with the clothes and shoes I mindlessly grabbed during my getaway.
I could’ve easily ended up with twelve pairs of socks and some Spanx.
That would’ve been interesting. But I do wish I’d grabbed my tennis shoes.
I don’t exercise much, but I do like walking, and I’d just bought those.
That’s alright though. I can make do with what I have, and maybe I can save enough to grab a new pair in a few weeks.
As I’m getting ready to leave the house, my phone goes off with another text message. This time, I don’t even look at it. I silence it and shove it into my bag.
Simon who?
It’s starting to sprinkle as I head out the door, and I consider driving for a second before deciding I would rather walk in the drizzle than drive the car Simon bought.
The Mercedes sits in my driveway, a constant reminder of the life I left behind in Texas.
I don’t really want to keep it, but I know having a car just makes sense.
I won’t always be able to walk everywhere I need to go.
But today, I can.
I beeline for Pour Decisions, the scent of coffee beans, vanilla, and cinnamon hitting me all at once. As I open the door, the overhead bell rings, and I spot Brandi behind the counter. She’s a tiny sprite of a woman and the absolute sweetest. She looks up and grins when she sees me.
“Hey, girl. I just pulled the scones out of the oven. Need some coffee too?”
“Please. I tried to be good and make some at home, but I’m fairly certain something died in the coffee pot I inherited with my house. Worst thing I’ve ever tasted. So now I’m also on the hunt for a new coffeemaker along with so many other things.”
Brandi hands me the goods as I give her the cash and winks. “We don’t mind you having a broken coffee pot. Come in and see us anytime.”
“Thanks, girl. I appreciate you.” I eagerly take the goodies from her.
For a split second, I realize I’ve consumed more coffee and scones than anything else since arriving in town.
Maybe that should bother me, but I quickly shove the information out of my brain and choose not to focus on it.
I’ll go grocery shopping at some point. I still have a couple of the mac and cheese cups I picked up a few days ago. I’m good.
I decide to sit for a minute and eat my scone so I’m not scarfing it down while walking down Main Street. I take a seat by the window and people-watch for a bit.
Once I’m done, I grab my drink and toss my trash. Just as I step out the door, I crash into a hard wall of muscle, spilling my coffee down the both of us.
“Shit!” It’s the first word that pops out of my mouth, and I say it with gusto.
Nice, Lydia. Very ladylike. Ugh, ladylikeness be damned. That coffee is hot! I’m pretty sure my boobs just got second-degree burns.
I finally get my bearings, trying not to think about how my bra is probably melting to my skin.
“I am so sorry,” I blurt out, surveying the damage before I even glance up.
“Hey, Lydia,” the wall of muscle says, resting a light hand on my arm. “If you wanted to see me again, you could’ve just called.”
I can hear the smile in his voice, not a hint of irritation.
Nick.
My heart does a not entirely unpleasant flutter.
Good Lord, I almost forgot how handsome this man is. Dark hair, tanned skin, muscled but not overly so. Just enough stubble to make me wonder what it would feel like if he…
Get it together, Lydia. You literally just doused the man in coffee.
“Hi, Nick. Long time no see. How are you? Sorry about your shirt! Can I get you a new one?” I’m rambling. I can hear it, but I can’t seem to make myself stop.
“Whoa there. Take a breath, darlin’. I’m alright.
A little coffee never hurt anyone.” He’s smiling, teasing, but I am so embarrassed I want to crawl under a rock.
A big one. A boulder would be ideal. Isn’t Colorado known for big-ass boulders?
I need to find one and hide under it until my face stops burning.
I stop the word vomit, but now I can’t make myself say anything at all. I just stand here, staring at the poor guy I’ve soaked in coffee, unable to say a word.
So we don’t. We just stare. Him looking down at me, his deep brown eyes shining. The color of a really good dark roast coffee, I decide.
And me looking up at him, grinning like an idiot, my face still burning from embarrassment.
Someone behind us coughs, breaking the spell.
I start to say something, anything, just to fill the silence. But the sky opens up, and it starts to pour.
Nick takes my hand and leads me to the hardware store awning next door. It’s drier there, but the wind picks up, pelting us with rain.
“It was just sprinkling when I left my house. If I’d known we were going to get a downpour, I would’ve stayed home with a book,” I say, raising my voice over the wind and rain.
He looks down at me, his gaze briefly sweeping over my body.
And well, shit. I am in a very thin white cotton shirt with an even thinner lace bra underneath.
I am basically standing here half-naked for all the town to see.
I should be embarrassed, but the sudden fire in Nick’s eyes makes me adore the way he’s looking at me.
It doesn’t feel creepy or unwanted. My breath catches when he brushes against me to make room for someone else, my body igniting as goosebumps spread over my arms and chest. I want his hands on me.
How long has it been since I welcomed a man’s touch? A very, very long time.
And I relish the thought of Nick’s strong, calloused hands all over me.
“Rainy days are your favorite reading days, aren’t they?” he asks, his voice thick with something I can’t place.
“They are,” I say. “I’m surprised you remembered.”
“I remember a lot of things, Lydia,” he says. The undertone in his voice sends a new wave of goosebumps over me.
“Should we make a run for my house? We could wait out the rain there,” I ask, then immediately kick myself. Not that I don’t want him there. I just don’t want it to sound like an invitation for more.
“Sure,” Nick says, surprising me. “Let’s make a run for it.”
He takes my hand as if it’s second nature, and we sprint down the sidewalk toward my house.