But when I look down, trying to assess the best way to extricate myself, instead of moving away, I watch my fingers curl tighter around her side. I notice everything about Annie that I shouldn’t. Like how her eyelashes curl on the ends and are blonde at the base. How she has lots of small freckles across the bridge of her nose. And I notice the way she curves into me perfectly. I honestly didn’t take Annie for a snuggler. “I always keep my hands to myself…. But with you…” Those words echo loudly in my head.
She’s draped fully over me, weighing me down in the most incredibly affectionate way. I keep my fingers light against her side even though I want to curl them into the adorable banana-printed fabric of her PJs and then proceed to peel them off one by one. I want to roll her over and wake her up with kisses down her neck and over her stomach. I want to kiss her and not stop.
Time to get up, Will. Get out! And get far away until I can think clearly again. And I absolutely cannot be the one to take her virginity. Not only because it would complicate things with Amelia and my job with her, but I’ll for sure be out of here by the end of the month (as soon as I get Amelia to agree) and then I’ll be off to Washington, D.C. It’s going to be high-stress, high-stakes, and fast-paced work. My favorite. No time for roots or relationships.
Carefully, I slide out from under Annie and simultaneously pull the pillow into the place where my shoulder was holding her head up. She doesn’t move or stir. As much as she’d hate to hear it, she looks like a sleeping angel with her soft pink lips relaxed into a pout and her eyelashes curling against her cheekbone. Her hair is half in, half out of the bun she was wearing last night, and somehow it makes the whole sight look even more attractive.
I stand up from the bed, slowly working my shoulders in a few circles to ease some of the tightness. The sun is higher now, and it spurs me to get out the window and back to my SUV down the street before anyone notices it. When I make it to the window, I lift the pane as quietly as possible, happy it doesn’t squeak or scrape. I drop my leg over the side just like the way I entered and pause only long enough to look at Annie one more time.
My breath catches when I realize she’s facing me now, eyes open, smiling softly. She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. Her blue eyes sparkle in the morning sun, and the most domestic images rush through my head: of her pouring a bowl of cereal, me topping it off with milk, and then her sitting in my lap while we eat together at the table—because I’m a clingy son of a bitch like that. That is all wrong. That’s not the sort of fantasy I should be having about her. It should be all sexual. All primal and fleeting. Instead, I’m rubbing my chest and telling myself to get the hell out of here before I accidentally ask her to have coffee with me on the porch while the sun comes up.
I give Annie one last smile and then duck out through her window and close it behind me.
* * *
—
I can’t go back to my room yet until I’m certain Mabel is gone. She’ll be hovering around the front desk this morning waiting to catch Terry lazily throwing the newspaper on the lawn instead of onto the front stoop. So I make a detour to the diner for some coffee before I go back, biding my time until Mabel leaves for her nine o’clock exercise walk around the town.
When I get near the diner, I park in the communal lot and then start my trek through the town toward it. My eyes are peeled, and I’m ready for someone to pop out and spring a sale on me I have no interest in, but, thankfully, it’s quiet. There are no noses pressed to windows, no eyes peeking from corners, no one really in sight.
The diner is empty except for Noah, who’s sitting at the bar. He comes in here almost every morning for coffee before going over to The Pie Shop and making even more coffee. I take the barstool two down from him just as Jeanine bursts through the door, rushes back behind the bar, then throws her apron over her head with a megawatt smile. “Morning, darlin’s!”
We both nod at Jeanine, and mirroring Noah’s mannerisms feels weird.
“Having a good morning?” asks Jeanine.
We both grunt a response.
Jeanine retrieves her notepad and pen and tucks them into her pocket. “Riiight. Okay, so the usual for Noah: coffee, black as tar. And what about you, Will?” She raises her brows at me and flips her long auburn hair over her shoulder, waiting for my answer.
I glance at Noah and back at Jeanine, wishing I didn’t have to put my order in with him listening. “Uh, coffee too.”
“Black?”
“Yep.” I lean forward slightly. “Plus cream and sugar.”
I catch Noah’s grin.
“Shut up,” I tell him and he raises his hands.
“I didn’t say a thing.”
“Your smirk did. It’s sexist of you to think I can’t be manly and also enjoy cream and sugar.”
Noah cuts his eyes to me, still holding a look of complete disinterest. “I can’t work in a pie shop, wear an apron every damn day of my life, and also be sexist.”
“I’m starting to think it’s all a front. You and your black-as-tar coffee are sexist as shit.”
Jeanine chuckles and turns toward the coffeepot to pour our drinks. “Aren’t you two just bursts of sunshine this morning?” Jeanine slides Noah’s black coffee to him first and then mine to me. “Noah’s always grumpy, so that’s nothing new,” she says, leaning over the counter to be face-to-face with me. “But you’ve always got a smile for me. Where’s my smile, Will?”
She’s not coming on to me—I don’t think. It’s just Jeanine. She’s naturally flirtatious, and naturally flirtatious people are usually drawn to me. Probably because I’m one of them. I learned it from an early age: flirtatious people are widely loved, and I’ve been in the business of getting love from anyone and everyone I can since the day I went to school and told Teressa Howard she looked pretty in her Lisa Frank shirt, and she hugged me. It had been weeks since I’d had a hug, and I still remember it feeling so damn good.
I sip my coffee, and grin around the rim—not quite feeling it today. “Sorry, Jeanine. Long night.”
Her eyes twinkle, and she lifts a brow before standing up straight and giving a soft whistle. “And who’s the lucky lady you ditched for a solo breakfast? Anyone I know?” I don’t miss the calculated easy grin. She’s fishing to see if it’s Annie because we had lunch together here at the diner.
“I didn’t—” I catch myself, remembering that the brother of the lady in question is sitting only a barstool away from me—and he also happens to be my boss’s fiancé. I need to watch myself. “It wasn’t that kind of a long night.”
Jeanine laughs harder this time. “I see. Now the grumpy mood makes more sense.” Annoying that she’s implying I’m in a bad mood from not having sex with Annie. I could care less about that, and I’m glad Annie was honest and said she wanted to stop. I’m grumpy because my night with her was better than anything I’ve ever experienced before, and I don’t know what to do about it. “All right, well, I’ll leave you two alone to your man time. Holler if you need me, honeys.” Jeanine disappears into the kitchen.
Noah and I sit in silence for several minutes, and I’m thankful for it. It gives me time to consider what I’m going to do about Annie and the magnetic hold she seems to have over me. Part of me insists I need to bow out of offering to help her. After last night—and then falling asleep next to her—it’s clear that I need to clamp down on my boundaries if I’m going to stay on the path I’ve made for myself.
“So…” Noah’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You spent the night with Annie, huh?”
I choke on my coffee. A full-on coughing, eye-watering, gasping-for-air choke.
Noah—the asshole—laughs. “Calm down. I didn’t mean it to come out like a threat.” He’s maybe the only person in the world who could make me feel threatened. I’ve stared down some pretty terrifying people, but Noah has this quiet confidence about him that tells me he could make my life hell if he wanted to.