11. Hadley #2
I glare toward Miguel’s retreating figure. “I hate everyone here.”
“No, you don’t.”
Nolan’s shoulder brushes mine lightly when he shifts closer again.
Tiny contact.
Still enough to send warmth blooming through my entire body.
“So,” he says.
I narrow my eyes. “That tone sounds dangerous.”
“Our date later.”
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
One corner of his mouth lifts.
“That’s a surprise.”
“I hate surprises.”
“Liar.”
Nolan smiles.
I smile back without thinking.
Somewhere behind us, Walter wolf-whistles from the bait shop. I don’t even roll my eyes this time.
By six thirty that evening, I have changed outfits four times. The fact that tonight is officially a date has reduced me to standing barefoot in my bedroom, staring at dresses as if they’ve personally betrayed me.
Rook, who seems to be at my house more than his own, watches from the bed with visible judgment.
“You’re not helping.”
His tail thumps once.
Outside my cottage windows, twilight settles across Otter Creek Farm. The sky glows dusky lavender beyond the trees while warm spring wind moves through the grass in gentle waves.
Everything feels quiet tonight. Suspended. Like the whole world is waiting with me.
This is the first time Nolan and I are stepping into something openly.
A knock sounds at the front door precisely at seven, and my pulse goes into complete chaos.
“Oh my God,” I whisper to myself.
Rook barks once, announcing my emotional downfall to the neighborhood.
I smooth nervous hands down the front of my dress before opening the door—and completely forget how breathing works.
Nolan stands on the porch holding flowers.
Soft white peonies and pale pink wildflowers wrapped in brown paper while the porch light catches against the sharp line of his jaw.
He changed too. Dark jeans encase his strong thighs. A button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, exposes a few tattoos I want to spend more time tracing with my tongue.
His hair is still damp, as if he showered not long ago.
For one ridiculous second, I forget to take the flowers. Nolan glances down at them, then back at me.
“These were supposed to make this less awkward.”
Nolan’s eyes move over me.
“You’re staring,” I whisper.
His gaze lifts back to mine.
“Can you blame me?”
My skin prickles and tightens, every nerve screaming as a wave of intense heat washes over me.
I lean lightly against the doorframe before my knees embarrass me. “You brought flowers.”
Nolan glances down like he forgot he was holding them.
“Yeah.”
The answer sounds almost uncertain, which makes the gesture even sweeter.
“They’re beautiful.”
A faint smile tugs at his mouth as he hands them over carefully. “The woman at the flower stand said peonies mean romance.”
My pulse stumbles hard.
“She also threatened me if I bought carnations.”
A startled snort escapes me.
“There’s the Coral Bell Cove I know.”
A soft, almost undetectable smile touches Nolan’s lips as he hears the sound.
I step aside to let him in while trying not to visibly melt into the floorboards. The second Nolan enters the cottage, I realize the mistake of having him in such close quarters.
Luckily, Rook abandons me for him, distracting us both from the sizzling tension in the room.
“You’re dead to me,” I joke with the dog.
Rook ignores me in favor of leaning heavily against Nolan’s legs as Nolan scratches behind his ears absently while glancing around the cottage.
His eyes linger briefly on the framed photos along the shelves. The knitted blanket draped over the couch. The stack of library books near the kitchen counter. And I become hyperaware that this is the first time he’s really seeing my space.
“It’s nice here,” he says.
“Yeah?”
His eyes return to mine.
“Feels like you.”
I set the flowers carefully in a vase near the sink before turning back toward him.
“So,” I say lightly because emotional survival requires deflection apparently. “Where are you taking me?”
One corner of his mouth lifts.
“You trust me?”
“I think that’s already been established,” I say.
“You look nervous,” he murmurs as he takes a step toward me.
I exhale dramatically. “I hate that you notice everything.”
“I don’t hate it.”
Of course he doesn’t. The man pays attention like it’s breathing.
“Okay,” I admit. “Maybe I’m nervous.”
“Good.”
I blink. “Again with that answer.”
Nolan laughs, and I want to sink into the sound.
“I’m nervous too,” he admits.
The confession catches me off guard.
“You are?”
“Hadley.” His mouth curves. “Do I look like the kind of man who normally brings flowers?”
A helpless laugh escapes me. Nolan glances toward the flowers once more before looking back at me carefully.
“I haven’t done this in a while.”
He smooths one thumb across the brown paper around the flowers. Like he’s suddenly worried he brought the wrong ones.
“A date?”
“A real one.”
The awareness hangs between us while the warm evening wind drifts through the screen door behind him.
Then Nolan reaches for me. His fingers brush lightly along my wrist before sliding down to lace with mine.
Even though it’s only contact, it distracts me. Holding hands feels terrifyingly intimate somehow.
Nolan’s thumb brushes once against my knuckles.
“You ready?” he asks.
I look down briefly at our joined hands, then back up at him before nodding, unsure if I could utter a single word intelligibly.
The open tenderness on Nolan’s face is so heart-wrenching it almost cracks me in two.
He lifts our joined hands and kisses my knuckles. My fingers tighten around his. Neither of us lets go as we step off the porch together.