Chapter Nine
· Nine ·
Juliet
I’m not thinking. I’m reacting. Out of sheer panic.
Will and I tumble through the hedges, their prickly branches grazing my skin.
I yank him down with me because while I can manage to hide by crouching a little, he’s so tall, his head pokes out above the hedges. I had to pick a giant to practice romance with.
“Juliet, what are you—”
“That’s my sister,” I hiss at him. “And Christopher .”
Will spits a leaf out of his mouth. “I thought we agreed there’d be no sneaking around.”
“Well,” I whisper, “I didn’t exactly expect them to come waltzing out of my apartment right when we were headed toward it!”
“Your apartment?” He frowns. “Why were they in your apartment?”
“Who knows,” I mutter while trying to peek through the hedges. I can’t see a damn thing. “They’ve got keys to the place; maybe they needed something I had while they were in the city that would be a pain to catch the train back to Christopher’s house to get? That’s not the point, though.”
“What is the point?” he asks. Unlike me, he is not whispering.
“Shh,” I hiss. “Talk softer. They’ll hear you!”
Will sighs heavily.
I listen for footsteps, the sound of Kate’s and Christopher’s voices. No footsteps, their voices getting no louder. They must be stopped in front of the apartment. I don’t know why. What I do know is it’s darn inconvenient. My knees ache so badly when I crouch like this.
Will plops fully onto the ground and tucks his legs in, crisscross applesauce. It puts him very much in my space. “Come on. Sit,” he whispers, nodding down at his lap. “If we’re going to hide here like bandits, might as well be comfortable.”
I eye his lap, my knees throbbing. The thought of sitting sounds so much better, but I vividly remember from our little tussle in the greenhouse last week what kind of heat that man’s packing between his thighs, how great it felt, just for a split second.
Sitting on his lap is a bad idea.
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
He gives me a stern look. “You’re sore,” he says quietly. “I saw you groan when you got up from the café table. You were limping a little on the walk home.”
Humiliation whines out from my pricked-pride balloon. He noticed.
“Will it feel better to sit?” he asks. “Tell the truth.” Will leans in a little, his voice even softer. “We’re being honest with each other, remember? You pinkie promised .”
Dammit. On a huff, I plop down on his lap.
“There,” I whisper sourly. “Happy now?”
He shrugs. “Hiding like we’re criminals aside, yes.”
I cross my arms over my chest, sulking, annoyed that he picked up on my aches and pains, that Will has now become another person who fusses over me. “I feel like a kid in her dad’s lap at story time.”
“I mean, I think it’s a little soon for you to be calling me Daddy , but…”
I gape in shock and glance over my shoulder.
Will’s got a hand over his mouth, and his cheeks have turned bright red. He drops his hand just long enough to whisper hoarsely, “Thinking thought. Shouldn’t have been a talking thought.”
I bite my lip, trying so hard not to laugh. I have to stay quiet. I clap a hand over my mouth, too, as a laugh threatens to squeak out.
We manage to stay silent for a few seconds as I listen for Kate’s and Christopher’s voices again. They’re no louder, no quieter. They’re still standing outside my apartment.
Suddenly, Will’s phone starts to ring. Thankfully its sound is muffled by my butt, but it’s still too loud.
“Will!” I whisper-shout, glancing at him again over my shoulder. “Silence it!”
He gives me wide, panicked eyes. “I can’t!” he hisses. “You’re on my lap!”
“Oh, whose brilliant idea was that?” I hiss back.
He blows out a frustrated breath. “Reach in my left pocket, would you? Just hit the button on the side to silence it.”
I hesitate. His pocket is way too close to the very generous part of him I’m trying not to think about, wedged snugly against my butt. “Can’t you?”
He gives me an annoyed look as he whispers, “And risk groping you in the process? No, thanks. Even I know that’s not first-date material.”
I press myself harder against his phone as it rings again, trying to smother it with my butt cheeks. “We’re not practicing anything right now! Just silence it!”
“Absolutely not,” he whispers.
“Christ almighty!” I lean on my right butt cheek so I can reach his pocket and shove my hand behind me, feeling around. My fingers connect with something big and thick, but definitely not rectangular-shaped. I freeze. “That’s not your phone, is it?”
Will swallows audibly. “It is not.”
I yank my hand back like it’s been burned, but Will clasps my wrist, guiding it much farther left, until my fingertips brush the edge of a pocket. “There,” he says. “Right there.”
Trying my best not to hear how that sounds very much like a command he’d give me in a much more pleasurable setting, I shove my hand inside the pocket, find his phone, and frantically jab at the buttons on the side until it’s silent.
Two seconds later, it starts to buzz.
“Take it out,” he says, his voice hoarse and urgent. “Please.”
That double entendre, I can’t get past. I choke on a snort, trying my best to swallow the sound. “But an ass grope is too far for a first date?”
“Juliet,” Will growls soft and low in his throat. “I meant the phone .”
Sensing he just might be at the end of his rope and knowing this whole ridiculous situation is my doing, I reach back into his pocket and pull out his phone, which is lighting up with another call. At least this time, it’s only buzzing.
I tap the button on the side to silence it, and my gaze catches on the screen—an up-close portrait of a woman who looks to be in her fifties, maybe sixties, her upswept strawberry-blond hair streaked with white, big amber eyes crinkled with deep laugh lines as she smiles at the camera. Ma it says across the top.
“Your mom’s so pretty,” I whisper.
Will sighs. “She’s pretty, all right. Pretty damn persistent.”
Suddenly Kate’s and Christopher’s voices turn louder. I hear the familiar stomp of Kate’s Doc Martens, Christopher’s long, heavy strides landing beside hers.
I set a finger to my mouth and stare up pleadingly at Will. He doesn’t respond, just gazes down at me wearily.
Finally, their voices pass us; the sound of their footsteps fades.
I blow out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and scramble upright clumsily. I’m too desperate to put distance between us to care that I look as unsteady as I feel.
Will jumps up gracefully after me, just how he did at the greenhouse last week, like a big jungle cat, smooth and powerful. The total opposite of my ungainly effort. I’d be irritated if I didn’t find it so hot.
We stare at each other for a beat, breathing a little heavily. I flash him a smile that I hope turns that frown upside down.
It doesn’t.
“That was an adventure,” I tell him.
Will straightens to his full height and glances over the hedges. “They’re gone.”
“Thank goodness.” I shove through the hedges, brushing leaves and dirt off my dress. “Sorry about that. I know it was less than ideal.”
Will tugs a leaf out of his beard, eyebrows arched high. “Less than ideal?”
“Okay, it was a shit show,” I admit. “I’m sorry, I panicked. I didn’t want them to see us when the only explanation for us being together is something we both agreed we’re going to keep to ourselves.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Will peers down at me and lets out a heavy sigh. “I understand.”
My anxiety drains fifty percent. “You do?”
“I didn’t like that we had to hide, but I understand.” He drops his arms. “We’ve got to figure out how to be honest without telling the whole truth. Then, if this happens again, we’ll be prepared.”
I nod. “You’re right.”
Will squints up at the sky, brow furrowed, as he slides his hands into his pockets. “I told Petruchio I’ll be coming into town on weekends this month, dropping in on bars and restaurants that stock our whiskey to drop off samples and pitch a new fifteen-year we’re rolling out. So I have an explanation for being here.”
My eyes widen. “Wow, that’s a good explanation.”
“It’s also the truth,” he says.
“Even better.” I smile. “Do you normally do that?”
“Nah. I do best staying put at home, keeping things running there.” He swats away a bee that’s started circling his head. “My sister Immy, it’s her gig, but she’s as sick as a dog right now. First pregnancy, first trimester. She needed a break. I figured I could take a turn and handle it for a while, even if I’m shit at it compared to her.”
My heart pirouettes in my chest as I stare at him. First his niece and the orange shirt. Now this. He talks about these choices he makes out of care and love for his family so matter-of-factly, like it’s that simple, like doing for others, even when it’s outside his comfort zone, is just what’s done.
Will catches me staring at him.
I clutch my forearm and wave that arm’s hand.
He frowns, clearly confused.
“Another green flag moment,” I explain.
“Ah.” He scrubs at his neck. “Well, anyway. That’s my explanation for why I’m here. So we’re set on that front. What we have to figure out is how we’ll explain us spending time together.”
An idea creeps up in my head as I stand nearly toe-to-toe with Will:
Friendship between us, not just in the context of our romance practice, which we’re keeping to ourselves, but friendship that everyone could see. It would be the perfect explanation for us spending time together, if we bumped into any more friends and family around the city.
The sun jumps out between the clouds, hot and bright. I need to get inside soon, so I won’t burn, but for a moment, I let myself enjoy that illuminating warmth, the sense that it’s some kind of approving sign from the universe, a reassurance that I’m doing this right.
“Will,” I finally say, hand held over my eyes like a visor as I peer up at him. “I think I have our solution.”
—
Seated on my apartment’s stoop, beneath the maple tree shading us, Will and I talk through my idea. As we talk, he drags his fingers along his beard, gaze trained somewhere in the distance.
With him staring straight ahead, I have an unadulterated view of his profile. I let my gaze travel his nose, long and straight but for a slight bump on the bridge that lends a rough edge to a face that, were it not half-obscured by his beard, I have a hunch is so good-looking the only word that comes to mind is beautiful . Light bounces off his sharp cheekbones, which are dappled with freckles.
Those damn freckles.
“So, what you’re saying is…” His voice startles me out of my stare, which I hope he didn’t notice. If he did, Will doesn’t let on. “If I spend time with you around your and Petruchio’s mutual friends, and your sisters, no one will think anything of us hanging out one-on-one.”
“Exactly.”
He nods, fingers still combing through his beard. “And we would shelve the romance stuff when we’re with them, right?”
“Right. That way they just perceive us as friends. Which, of course, is all we are!” I add brightly.
Will’s gaze slides my way. His mouth lifts faintly at the corner. “Of course.”
We’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, and somewhere along the way, I started leaning into him. My body is wiped from an active morning, from the heat, which is intense even though we’re in the shade. I’m too exhausted to care, to make myself push off of him and straighten up. I trust Will to give me some cue if he’s uncomfortable with me slumping into him. We promised to be honest with each other, after all.
I notice him watching me, a little notch of what might be concern in his brow, and flash him a smile that I hope makes me look perkier than I feel. “So, how does that plan sound to you?” I ask. “I’m all ears if you want to go at it from a different angle.”
The wind picks up, and it’s glorious, cutting through my dress, cooling everywhere it clings to my sweaty skin. I shut my eyes for a second and bask in it.
My eyes snap open when I feel Will’s touch at the corner of my mouth, his finger brushing my lip as he drags away a strand of hair that the wind stuck it to.
“That plan suits me fine,” he says.
I swallow as I stare up at him, my body hot and achy. And not because I’m sitting on a concrete step at noon in July. But because I love when he touches me. I want him to touch me so much more.
Off. Limits , that wise voice reminds me.
I nod to that wisdom, to Will’s agreement with my plan. “Good. Great.”
“Only thing is,” he says, “for that to work, I’d need to start socializing with them—”
“As soon as possible.”
He nods.
“I was thinking that, too. How do you feel about game nights? I’m hosting one tomorrow. We’d need to figure out how we get you there without me being the one to invite you, but I’m sure we’ll think of something. Shouldn’t make for a late drive home for you either; we wrap up by nine when we have them on Sundays. Everyone’s got to get up for work the next day.”
Will’s eyes are on my mouth as he nods. “Mm-hmm.”
My gaze slips to his mouth, too. A mouth I have maybe possibly thought about kissing today. A lot. A cyclist whizzes by on the street, startling us both. Our eyes snap up and meet each other’s.
“Let’s get you inside,” Will says. His voice is rough at the edges.
I blink, confused. “Why?”
“Because you’re hot and tired.” He eases upright and offers me his hand. “And because I think we’ve done plenty for our first day.”
“I’m not tired,” I pout, slapping my hand into his.
He arches an eyebrow. “Pinkie promise?”
I scrunch my face up at him as I stand. Well, more like twenty-five percent is me standing, seventy-five percent is his gentle tug that gets me upright. “I might be slightly fatigued,” I say loftily.
His mouth quirks up at the corner. “I’d say you’ve earned yourself a nap. I know I’ve earned mine, after that hiding-in-the-hedge ordeal you put me through.”
I shove his arm playfully. “I told you I was sorry!”
My knee gives out when it always does—when I least expect it to. I’m dropping fast, bracing to hit the ground, but Will’s faster, freakishly fast for such a big guy. In a blur of orange button-up and sun-bleached blue jeans, he’s swept me into his arms like a bride.
With our height discrepancy, I’ve never been this close to his face. So close, I can see every silvery fleck in his pale green eyes, every spiky auburn eyelash, how the tips fade to bronze and then gold.
I swallow so hard, the sound echoes in my head. “I’m okay,” I whisper.
Relief and raw embarrassment flood me in tandem. This isn’t the first time this has happened. But it’s the first time it’s happened in front of someone who doesn’t know me, and worse, whom I’m attracted to.
Will’s eyes bounce between mine. He’s breathing heavily. “You sure?”
I force a smile. “Yep.”
“Juliet, you just collapsed,” he presses.
“Yes, Will, I’m aware.” I sound snippy, and it’s because I’m feeling snippy. I don’t like being babied or fussed over. I’m the oldest sister. I’m the one who babies and fusses over others. “I’m steady now,” I tell him. “You can put me down.”
He narrows his eyes. He does not put me down. “You swear?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t push back, doesn’t doubt me, smoothly lowering me so I can stand. But he might have been right to. Because my knee wobbles again.
He starts to bend again. “I’m carrying you.”
“No, wait!” I clutch his arm. If he sweeps me up in his arms again, I’m going to swoon so hard I might actually collapse. “Just…let me hold your arm, and you can walk me inside, okay? It’s not like I’m going to faint. It’s just my knee. It gets wobbly sometimes.”
Will frowns down at me and sighs. “All right.”
I hook my arm in his and grip tight, then turn toward the front door, Will right there with me. Holding on to his arm, I unearth my keys from my purse and slide my key into the lock. Will reaches for the door and tugs it open as soon as I pull out my key.
We take the stairs slowly, Will following my lead on our pace.
“Where are you staying?” I ask.
“A little studio apartment not too far from here. A family friend’s,” he says. “She used to live there, above her business, but now she’s got a house. It’s usually an Airbnb, but she said it’s mine as long as I need it.”
“That’s great.” I glance up.
When we get to my door, I slide my key into the lock, then turn his way and force a smile. “Well, thank you, again.”
“Thank you ,” he says. “This was…I think it was a pretty strong first day.”
My smile morphs into something genuine. “I think so, too. You know, besides the hedgerow ordeal and my damsel-in-distress bit just now. A little off the beaten path for a practice first date, but then again, that just means we’ll be all the more prepared for the curveballs that’ll come when we’re putting ourselves out there and doing the real thing, doesn’t it?”
Will’s quiet for a second, his expression almost somber. “Definitely,” he finally says. “Do you, um, live alone?”
I tip my head, caught off guard by the question. “I do. Kate and Bea used to live with me, but…well, they live with their lovebugs now. It’s just me here these days. Why?”
He scrubs at the back of his neck. “Mind just…checking in later, letting me know you’re okay?”
Something softens inside me. “Will. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise. I fell because I’ve got joint issues, so my knee gives out sometimes. It’s not anything serious. I don’t faint or lose consciousness.”
His shoulders drop with relief. “Well…” He clears his throat. “That’s good at least. I mean, not that your joints give you trouble, just that I’m not going to spend the rest of the day wondering if you’re out cold on the floor with a head wound.”
I bite my lip against a smile. “You still want me to check in, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he breathes. “I do.”
“Fine.” I let out an exaggerated sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to text you later on. Ooh, you know what, why don’t you get your bang for your buck and practice flirt texting with me while you’re at it?”
He grimaces. “I’m not a good text flirter. I don’t really text, if I can help it.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re such a grandpa.”
“I’m taking that as a compliment.”
A laugh jumps out of me. “Okay, gramps.”
Will’s eyes crinkle, the only way I know I’ve made him smile. He takes a step back. “What time does game night start tomorrow?”
“Oh shoot.” I frown. “Speaking of game night. We still haven’t figured out how we get you invited.”
“I’ll let Petruchio know I’m in town. He’ll invite me. He has before.”
My mouth drops open. “You stinker! Why didn’t you ever come?”
Will looks sheepish, scratching behind his ear. “Because I’m a shy, awkward introvert?”
“Well, I’ve got news for you, Will Orsino. You can still be a shy, awkward introvert and have a great time with these people. We’re all a bunch of weirdos. Fun weirdos. I think you’ll have a good time.”
Will’s mouth lifts at the corner, just the slightest. “I think I will, too.”
“Good. It starts at six thirty. When they’re on Saturdays, we start at five and do dinner, but Sundays, we start later. My mom’s real intense about attendance at Sunday family dinner, so I’m going to take the train to my parents’, eat dinner, then head back in and host game night.”
“That works. I’m going to spend the daytime stopping by a couple clients. That’ll probably take me right up to game-night time. You okay with us not meeting for practice tomorrow?”
“Fine by me. Like you said, we got a good first day in under our belts. We have plenty of time.”
He nods, then takes another step back. “All right, then. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye!” I call as he flies down the stairs, taking them two at a time, graceful as a goddamn antelope. If that man weren’t such a sweetie, I’d be livid about watching his freakish athleticism, when I can barely walk up a flight of stairs. “Text you later!” I yell. “Make sure you text back! Very flirtatiously!”
“Not a chance!” he calls over his shoulder before he bounds out of my building.
I sigh as I shut my door and slump against it. “Stubborn man. He really is lucky he’s cute.”