20. Gianna
Cam’s givenme the rest of the afternoon off, and I’m going to take advantage and explore a little more of the town while I have the time. After the first few weeks pass on a new project, work typically picks up quite a bit.
After my afternoon with Henry a couple of days ago, I’ve been itching to see more of the town he loves so much. I almost texted him on the off chance he has the afternoon free but thought better of it.
Just because we’re going to be friends now doesn’t mean we have to hang out anytime we’re both free.
I’ve done the Main Street leg of town, taking the time to pop into the various storefronts and check out some of the local shopping. I was eyeing a cute dark purple sweater dress at one of the boutiques, but couldn’t pull the trigger. I don’t need it and definitely don’t have anywhere to wear it.
Now, I’m strolling down one of the more residential streets off of Main, taking in the quaint visual of the houses set against the mountains.
I didn’t realize how different Colorado was, how stunning it could be. Landing in Denver wasn’t exactly the most picturesque this state can be. I also didn’t realize how happy I could feel away from Boston. Just being up here in the mountains and seeing what my backyard could look like is giving me a lot to think about. It almost feels like home here. Not that it is, or ever would be.
I don’t think I’d move here. My whole life is back east, and I don’t know what I’d do being so far from home. So far from my family, everything I’ve grown up with.
Just as I turn the corner onto a quiet stretch, a car drives by me and parks right on the street in front of a cute green home. Actually, it seems to be a duplex of sorts. Hearing the engine cut, I take a closer look at the truck and realize that it’s Henry’s.
I stop short and watch him climb out of the driver”s side, carrying his small black backpack. He’s wearing what I’ve started to recognize as his daily uniform. He’s got on another pair of well-fitted jeans, a black Henley, and his work boots. It”s classically simple but somehow perfectly him. I spot what’s probably oil or dirt smudged across one cheek, and the sight of it makes me smile like a goof.
For a brief moment, I wonder if I should just turn and start walking quickly in the direction I came. That’s probably not a normal reaction when you run into a friend. Maybe this house is one of his jobs and he won’t have time to chat, so I should just go. I wouldn’t want to interrupt him during his workday.
I move to turn on my heels but don’t get a chance.
“Gia?” Henry’s low voice calls out to me, and when I look up, he’s walking toward me.
“Hey…”
“What’re you doing here?” He comes to a stop in front of me, and by the looks of him, he’s been working hard today. His backpack is slung over one shoulder, and his eyes look tired.
“What are you doing here?” The question flies out of my mouth before my brain thinks about it long enough to realize it’s completely uncalled for. “I mean, I’m just out for a walk exploring.”
We’re standing just in front of this house now, right at the sweet white fence that circles the property. A frigid gust of wind makes me shiver, and on an inhale, I make note that it smells like snow. I almost whip out my phone to check whether it’s going to be a dusting or something more severe but manage not to.
“This is actually where I live.” He’s giving me his full attention, and I’m far too exposed, even decked out in a jacket and scarf.
“Oh.” It’s a lame response, but it’s the best I can muster when he’s got me pinned with his eyes.
“Henry! Come on over for some tea. It’s getting cold, and you know how Betty gets. Invite your friend in too.”
Yanking my eyes from Henry, I look toward the house and see that one of the front doors is open. A tall man with a wide smile and dark brown skin is leaning out the front and waving. Out of the corner of my eye, Henry waves back, and I follow suit, even though I have no idea who that man is.
“I’ll be in. Just gotta shower quick!” Henry drops his hand and looks back to me with a smile. “Interested in some tea?”
I gape at him, almost wondering out loud if tea is code for something. “Like hot tea?”
“Yeah, Hank and Betty are pretty into it. I usually go over for a cup in the afternoon. No pressure or anything, but it’s usually pretty good, and it’ll warm you up a bit.”
At the mention of getting warm, I focus long enough to feel just how chilly it’s become since I left the bed and breakfast. Actually, it’s more of what I don’t feel. Namely, my nose.
“Tea would be nice, actually.” This is what friends do. They have tea together.
He unlatches the gate of the fence and holds it open for me to pass through. He strides ahead, and I follow him up the steps of the porch. Hank went back inside, so it’s just us.
“I’ve got to shower quickly. Ten minutes, tops. You can go on ahead and get your tea, and I can meet you down here. Betty and Hank are great, super nice. Or you can come up and wait for me. Whichever is more comfortable for you.”
Freezing, I watch him take his keys out and unlock his door. Do I want to spend anywhere from the next five to ten or so minutes sitting with two people I don’t know over a cup of tea? Not really.
Do I want to go upstairs to Henry’s apartment with him and presumably sit on his couch in his living room while he strips naked and takes a shower not so far away from me?
Absolutely not.
But as a friend, that shouldn’t be an issue for me. “I’ll wait for you.”
So that’s exactly what I do. Henry stops at the landing, takes his boots off, and leaves them outside his door. Once he opens it, we walk into a vast, open living space.
“I’m going to be quick. Feel free to make yourself at home.” Henry leaves me quickly, walking down the hallway to the right.
I take in the large sectional couch set in what’s supposed to be the living room area to the far left. A large TV hangs alone on the wall facing the couch. Straight ahead is the kitchen, which is pretty large for a one-bedroom unit. The island takes up nearly half the length of the space. He has clean stainless-steel appliances and a funky Edison bulb lighting feature hanging above it all.
Just to the right of the entrance is a small dining area fitted with a round table with four chairs. Hanging above the table is a similar lighting fixture to the one in the kitchen. The whole space looks lived in, but incredibly tidy. It even smells clean, like maybe he wiped down the kitchen with some kind of citrus cleaner just today.
I almost don’t want to walk farther into the space. I’m worried I might touch something and accidentally clutter it up.
I walk slowly around the kitchen and into the living room, and I do end up perching on the edge of the couch, but I don’t want to get too comfortable.
I hear the shower turn on, and my entire body heats in an almost Pavlovian response to the knowledge that he’s getting naked.
I have got to get a handle on this.
Trying to shift my focus, I lean forward and rifle through the few coffee table books he has set out. My attention snags on a particularly interesting looking photo book, and I lean back into the couch and flip it open.
The book contains all kinds of photos. Everything from black-and-white portraits to landscapes. There are photos of animals on a cute-looking farm, close-ups of cityscapes, and photos of delicious looking food. I flip past a lively-looking farmers market full of people talking and laughing, then pause on an almost hauntingly beautiful black and white portrait of a young man when I hear footsteps coming down the hall.
Craning my neck, I watch as Henry pulls on a long-sleeve tee as he walks toward the couch. The sight of his damp chest is enough to throw me into a hot flash.
Whipping my head back around, I focus on the book in my lap.
“Oh, you found Leah’s book.” His voice flows over my body from just behind the couch.
Pulling a face, I turn to look at him against my better judgment. Of course, freshly showered, he looks nothing short of a freaking Abercrombie model. Water clings to his hair, darkening his curls, and small droplets sluice down his jaw. His cheeks are bright pink, and he’s got a devilish look in his eyes.
“Leah? From Books N’ Brew?” I close the book onto my finger, checking the cover for the name of the photographer.
“She’s a photographer.” He comes around to sit next to me, the heat from his body doing more than that cup of tea ever could.
“Yeah, she told me.” I open the book up again to the photo of the guy.
“You met?”
Glancing over to him, I nod. “She seems nice. Asked if I needed headshots or anything. It sounds like she’s not getting to flex her photography muscles as often as she’d like.”
“Yeah, she actually works with my parents up at the lodge part time. I don’t think there are too many weddings or events going on right now, so that might be why.” He looks down at the book in my lap, a deep V marring his face. “Hey, listen, don’t mention that I have this book to her? She’d hate it if she knew that I got my hands on it.”
“Why?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure this is mostly her older work, for one thing. Also, that’s my brother.” He taps his finger on the black-and-white photo before dropping his hand back in his lap.
“Wait, what?” I take a closer look. I can’t tell the color of his hair or eyes. But he’s clearly a white man, early twenties, if I had to guess. As I focus more on the shape of his face and the curl of his hair, I can see the resemblance. They have the same jaw and similar noses. He’s not smiling too hard in the photo, but I can almost see the same exact dimple as Henry has too. “Oh, wow. That’s…” I’m not really sure what to say about it. The photo seems intimate, full of an emotion I can’t quite place.
“They went to school together. That’s what she said when she moved out here years ago, but it didn’t sound like they knew each other all that well. At least, not the way I remember it.”
Stealing a glance at him, I find his eyes glued to the book. “So they were friends?”
At my question, he shifts his eyes to me, raising his eyebrows. “I don’t know exactly, but when I look at that photo, I get the feeling that whoever took it had a lot of big feelings about my brother.”
Letting my eyes roam the photo again, I can see what he does. “It looks like whoever took this photo was in love. And it sort of looks like it was mutual.”
“That’s my theory. Anyway, she never said anything about anything, so I don’t want her thinking that I know something that I really don’t. She’s good people, so I figured if she didn’t bring it up, it was for a good reason.”
“Why don’t you just ask your brother?” It seems like the logical way to go about things.
“Grant? I don’t talk to him all that often. I honestly don’t even know if he knows Leah’s living out here.”
“Really? He’s not local?” As the question leaves my lips, I remember what Gina and Marc said at our initial meeting. I almost take it back, tell Henry I know that Grant is in New York, but I remember I’m not supposed to know that in time to stop.
“He moved to New York City after college and hasn’t been back since. It’s not—he’s not super involved with Ever Lake. Anyway, if you get to spend time with Leah at all, just don’t mention it?”
“Yeah, absolutely, no problem.” I agree easily, placing my hand on his to offer some kind of comfort. Not that he seems to need it necessarily, he looks…fine, just maybe a slightly dimmed version of himself. “Should we go have tea?”
That brings out his smile. He turns his hand over so he’s almost holding mine and gives it a squeeze. “Let’s go. Betty’s probably complaining about how good tea needs to be drunk when it’s the correct temperature.”
“Well, I don’t want to keep Betty waiting.”
Tugging me up to stand, he takes the book from me and returns it to the coffee table. He keeps hold of my hand as we walk to the door. My brain is screaming at me to take it back, to break the connection I made, but every other part of me thrills at the feel of his hand in mine.
So I leave it.