by Barb Curtis
Blake pulled his lips down into a grimace. “Sorry. See you tomorrow.”
It was earlier than he’d planned to leave—just before six, but the sky was already a deep indigo. He and Emily had both been busy since their snowshoeing date, but he checked in via text now and then to ask her how the packing was going and see if she needed anything.
The more time he spent with her, the more he missed her in the gaps between dates, and each minute together seemed to weaken the charade. An inner voice kept screaming What are you doing?! This is not part of the plan! He had rules, damn it. Casual dating only. No opening up. No getting close. Definitely no developing feelings. His rules were carefully crafted, but right now they were getting rocked off their axis, because the thing was, time with Emily felt like it was good for his soul, and it had been so long since he’d been happy that he kept choosing to ignore those little flashes of panic that flared up every now and then.
“Tim!”
He slowed his pace, his boots scuffing against the paved parking lot.
Four women tumbled out of a black SUV parked in front of Great Wide Open. Was it the same vehicle that had followed them the other day? Impossible to know for sure.
The one that called his name got an elbow from one of the others, resulting in a little yelp before they all started to giggle. Two of them were blond and the other two had dark hair. They were in their late twenties, if he had to guess. Tim squinted under the beam of the streetlight. “Can I help you?”
“Oh my God, it is him,” one of them whispered.
They all looked at the blonde who’d called his name, prompting her to do the talking. “We were hoping we could get a tour of your shop—or maybe you could show us around Sapphire Springs?”
Tim glanced over his shoulder at the shop, and then back at the blonde. “Tonight?”
She licked her lips and glanced at the others. “We drove quite a distance.”
“We’re big fans of Behind Closed Doors,” one of the brunettes chimed in, “and can’t wait for you to go on the show.”
The original talker piped up again. “Jenna’s going to audition for next season.” She pointed to the quiet blonde lurking in the back, who smiled at him and then darted her eyes away.
His pulse vibrated in his neck, and he forced himself to keep an even tone and remember they were technically customers at his place of business. “Feel free to browse the shop. It’s open for another hour or so. As for tours, they need to be arranged ahead of time, and I’m booked for the foreseeable future. Have a good night.” He had started to walk away when one of them grabbed his arm.
“Wait. Can we at least get a photo? We’ve come all this way.” She offered a little pout.
Tim pulled his arm out of her grasp. Before he could think of a response, they all had their phones out, crowding around him, snapping pictures.
“Okay, okay.” He held up a hand and backed away from them. “I’m on my way somewhere. Enjoy the shop.”
“Okay, we’ll definitely book that tour.”
“Maybe we’ll end up on the show together next season,” the one named Jenna called out behind him.
“Don’t count on it,” he muttered under his breath, and waved without turning around. Their high-pitched giggles faded with the slamming of their car doors and the starting of the engine. They weren’t even bothering to go into the store.
Tim rounded the corner into the square and ducked behind a maple tree until the SUV turned down the street and disappeared. He leaned there a minute against the solid trunk and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to make sense of what had just taken place.
They were gone. That was all that mattered. He released a sigh, and his shoulders ached as they lowered. So some girls snapped a few pictures. Hopefully enough, so they’d have no reason to come back. Ever.
God, how long was that damn show going to follow him around?
He pushed off the tree and started to walk again. He unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on his coat, appreciating the cold draft along his collar, while trying to push the bizarre encounter out of his mind. Maybe he’d pick up takeout. Em had probably gone straight from work into moving mode, without ever giving thought to a meal.
He sent her a quick text and stepped into the pizzeria to order. While he waited for the food, he ran upstairs to his apartment and grabbed a bottle of rosé out of the wine cooler. Fifteen minutes later he was knocking on her door with the makings of a fine meal.
Music blared from inside the apartment. After a few minutes of tapping his toe to the beat, he tried the knob, and the door opened. Tim set the food on the kitchen table and wove through the mess of boxes in her sparse apartment, following a pounding noise that was occasionally drowned out by Emily belting out Sharon Jones.
Wait, was that Emily? Or an angry wet cat trapped in a closet somewhere? Her back was to him, hammering the frame of the window with a high-heeled shoe. Before interrupting her performance, he took a moment to appreciate how her thin black leggings and racer-back tank hugged her subtle curves.
The tension from earlier dissolved with each shimmy of her hips. Eventually, he actually smiled. Because it was all he could do not to trace his fingertip along the curve of her lower back, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned against the doorway. He cleared his throat. “Whatcha doing?”
Her solo ended with a yelp, and she spun around, blowing a strand of hair away from her flushed face. “Hey! Hi. Wow, you’re early.” The high-heeled shoe slipped out of her hand and tumbled to the floor with a clonk, and she rushed to the stereo to lower the volume.
“I was just trying to loosen this window so I can get it open. It’s a hundred degrees in here. The radiator is stuck again. Five flipping years in this apartment, and they still haven’t fixed it.”
He joined her at the window and squatted in front of it to inspect the Victorian-era radiator. He tried to ignore the up close and personal view of her slim legs.
Focus.
The knob constantly gave her grief. He knew because he’d tightened it for her a dozen times, at least. He rested a palm on one of the decorative iron columns, where hot water gave off a wave of heat, and tinkered with the valve. “It’s shot. Stripped probably. They’re finally going to have to replace it.”
Emily pouted. “It’s like a sauna in here.”
Perspiration speckled her chest right above her cleavage. “Here’s hoping the radiators in the new apartment work better.” Or not, if she was going to look like this every day. In fact, maybe he’d tamper with it. Break the valve altogether so her new place was a sweltering paradise where they had no choice but to stay naked. Where did that thought come from? Tim shook his head, then rattled the window and gave it a solid push. It gave way with a stubborn scrape, followed by a draft of chilly air that brought him back to earth.
“Thank God.” Emily sighed, fanning herself with her hand.
Because it continued to wear on him, Tim told her about the women who had shown up at Great Wide Open.
“You’re kidding. They just drove from wherever and waited for you to come out of the store? For pictures?” She crossed her arms. “The messages and pictures are one thing, but cars following you and fans tracking you down seems so invasive.”
At least most of the fans who showed up had the decency to actually go into the store and shop. Tim leaned against the windowsill, the breeze fluttering his hair. “The more I think about it, the creepier it feels. Anyway, they left, so I’m not going to give it any more thought. Hopefully it doesn’t happen again.”
He clasped his hand around her tiny forearm and pulled her in the direction of the kitchen. “Come have some food before we get busy. Moving,” he rushed to add. He cleared his throat. “Before we get busy moving.” Christ.
A smile teased her lips. She got paper plates out of a plastic bag in the cupboard while he opened the wine. “I hadn’t even considered dinner. All my dishes are already packed in those boxes. We’ll have to use
paper plates and cups, if it’s all right with you.”
“Hey, I’m easy.” Ugh. Lame.
Emily snorted, gooey cheese dangling from the slice of pizza she lifted from the box. “I’ve heard that about you.”
He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, allowing himself to share in her amusement. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I seem to have transformed into some kind of bumbling idiot.” With all the charisma of a ninth grader. He grabbed a slice of pizza.
She gestured for him to join her at the table and then took a sip of wine from her lime-green cup. “I know the feeling. Case in point, almost face-planting in the snow the other day? Oh, and let’s not forget the singing incident a few minutes ago.”
Both struck him as cute.
Emily tossed her crust onto his plate. She never ate her crust, which was a mystery to him, because it was the best part. He bit a hunk of it off and leaned into the backrest of the chair. “I think we’re both a little surprised by this new direction we seem to have taken. It’s like uncharted territory, and we’re just…feeling each other up. Out,” he corrected, eyebrows shooting up before he rubbed his hand over his face. “For God’s sake.”
He needed a freaking filter or a five-second delay.
Emily legit spit wine across the table, nearly choking on what remained in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she managed, rubbing it off his forearm. “See, you’re not the only one tripping up.”
Her fingers glided across his skin like velvet, shiny little black nails wrapping around his arm. His chest grew heavy, and he fought to keep his breathing steady. “Maybe we should get started moving stuff.”
“Yeah.” She gathered up their plates and shoved them into a garbage bag. “I’ve moved most of the lighter boxes already. We can start with those heavier ones to get them out of the way, and then it’ll just be furniture.”
They cleared boxes out of her kitchen and carried them down to the new apartment. Tim was distracted every time Emily bent over and revealed a glimpse of her red sports bra, or when the hem of her shirt lifted, exposing the smooth skin of her lower back. When her arms stretched under the weight of a box labeled BOOKS, he was surprised by how toned they were. He didn’t recall her ever being overly athletic, but he learned new things about her every day.
The new apartment was a much better space. Like the rest of the building, it had hardwood floors and twelve-foot ceilings, with lots of light. The large arched windows were taller than either one of them if they were to stand on the wide sill, and since the unit was on the corner of the building, there were twice as many as in her old place. Being at the end of the building meant more brick walls, too. The chimneys in the building were sealed off decades ago, but the fireplace still made for some killer character, and Emily already talked about filling the hearth with candles.
Both the kitchen and bathroom had been updated, which was a bonus, since Emily was undoubtedly the kind of girl who enjoyed an indulgent bubble bath now and then.
There was an identical unit up on his floor too, but since crotchety old Hairy Larry would probably never move out, Tim would have to be content with his cramped one bedroom.
Tim and Emily found their groove, tipping furniture to avoid narrow doorways and directing each other when they walked backward. The awkwardness from earlier seemed to dissipate. She really didn’t have all that much stuff.
At least that’s what he thought until he saw her bedroom.
Shoes. He’d never seen so many in his life. Melissa had been a so-called shoe girl, but her collection had nothing on Emily’s, and Emily had a ton of purses and jackets, too.
She bit her lip. “I’m really glad the new place has a second bedroom. It’ll make for a sweet walk-in closet.”
“Do you really wear all those shoes?”
“Of course.” She waved her hand like it was a ridiculous question. “Don’t worry about them. I’ll lug them down the hall over the next few days. The dressers are empty, so they can go.”
“Okay.” He watched as she tugged on her ponytail. She looked so sexy and sporty. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Mind if I document?” Which was a dampening reminder this was all supposed to be fake. But if the world was going to nip at his heels and invade his privacy, he needed to remind them he wasn’t available.
Emily posed, propping her hands on her hips, like Wonder Woman. “If I look like shit, you better not post that.”
“Please. You’ve never looked like shit in your life.” He passed her the phone. She studied it for a minute, pursing her lips. “I’ll allow it, since my shoulders look super toned.” She passed back the phone. “While I’ve got you here, we might as well get the bed out of the way, too. Um, move it, I mean.” She rolled her eyes and started to laugh.
He popped his brows up and laughed too, but ultimately, he couldn’t agree more. Something was happening between them that was becoming impossible to just brush off. “Let’s start with the mattress.”
Tim removed the mauve throw from the end of the bed and carefully folded it. It was softer than it looked, which shouldn’t have surprised him. Emily surrounded herself with pleasures and would be the first to admit it. It was one of the things he liked about her.
She knew exactly what she wanted and made no apologies.
She removed the pillows and a couple of plush cushions and rolled the white duvet and sheets into sort of a fat burrito and piled them on the dresser. In the corner of the room, a pipe ran from floor to ceiling, and she’d coiled a strand of rope lights around it. He fought the urge to plug them in so her skin would glow the way it had in town square the first night they’d kissed.
What a night they could have in this big comfy bed, rolling in the sheets. He forced the fantasy out of his mind and then lifted an end of the thick mattress and turned it on its side.
“Guess I’m sleeping in the new apartment tonight. Goodbye, old room,” she said wistfully, clawing her nails into the mattress for grip.
He glanced over his shoulder as he backed out the doorway with his end of the mattress, then met her gaze. “Here we go, Holland. Full steam ahead.”
Despite the weight of the mattress, she grinned. “No looking back now.”
“No looking back now,” he repeated. For either one of them, he suspected.
Chapter Thirteen
Emily scrubbed her old apartment’s bathroom floor on her hands and knees. It was so small, it just seemed easier. She felt tired but accomplished. Her cleaning spree was nearly finished. All she had left to do was wipe down the oven, which she’d sprayed with cleaner a couple of hours ago, and give all the floors one last mop.
The tenant taking her old place wouldn’t be in town until the middle of the month, so she was able to take her time getting it cleaned up while the landlord worked on a few repairs. Thankfully, Harlow had gladly taken a few extra shifts this week. Emily needed the time to get settled in the new place. She’d yet to start unpacking anything but the bare necessities since the week before, when she and Tim had lugged her big items down the hall.
Hauling boxes and huffing and puffing to lift furniture was not the way she’d imagined spending quality one-on-one time with Tim all these years, but Emily wasn’t complaining. Besides the heavy lifting, he’d made for delicious eye candy, with his wavy hair tamed by a badass bandanna. They made a lot of progress before he was convinced she could handle the rest.
In order to get a solid night of rest that first night, she’d partly set up her new bedroom. Tim had helped her center the bed along the longest brick wall in the room and gave her a hand making up the bed. Who knew draping sheets together would spark so much desire to mess them back up? Tim was meticulous about tucking in the corners. He’d joked that there were just some things about the Navy that he’d never totally shake.
Then they’d pushed all the boxes labeled BEDROOM to one end, so they wouldn’t be in her way while she picked away at unpacking.
Her mom had called earlier
to see how the move was going and to report that they still had not heard back on Nana’s tests. It had been three weeks since the biopsy. Emily tossed the scrub brush she’d used on the bathroom floor into a garbage bag and checked her phone. Three missed calls from Leyna.
Strange.
She was about to call her back when she heard loud rapping on the door.
She whipped it open to find Leyna standing there, out of breath. “Did you mop this floor yet?”
“No. What’s going on? I just saw all the calls I missed from you. Is everything okay?”
Leyna breezed past Emily and tromped through to the living room, leaving a trail from her boots. “Wow. Your stuff is all gone.” She perched on the wide windowsill, since there was nowhere else to sit. “Please tell me you haven’t checked social media yet today.”
Emily closed the door slowly and leaned against the door instead of proceeding into the empty room. “No, I haven’t been online at all. Why?”
Leyna’s shoulders lowered when she blew out a long breath. “I don’t want you to get upset, but you’re going to see it eventually anyway.” She crossed the room and passed Emily her phone. “It’s just a bunch of jealous haters with no lives of their own. Don’t take it to heart, okay?”
It was the picture Tim had taken of her the night they were moving. He must’ve just gotten around to posting it. Emily’s hair was pulled back in a half-assed messy bun, and she’d sweated off all her makeup. Tim sought her approval before posting it, and she’d agreed, thinking that given the circumstances she didn’t actually look half bad.
She scrolled through the comments. The rest of the world disagreed, apparently.
He is way out of her league!
Why is he wasting his time with her? He should go on the show instead.
Wow. She’s got nothing on Melissa. What would he even see in her?
And then possibly the worst comment of all, from none other than Melissa. I don’t buy for one second that Tim is dating Emily. They’ve been friends forever. She’ll never be anything more to him than just one of the guys. #Farce