Making the Move: Mill Street Series #2

by Calla, Jessica

  She chuckled. “Sounds perfect.”

  The morning crowd greeted us as we walked into the diner. People still read the Sunday newspaper in Rambling, and old timers still sat at the counter with a carafe of steaming coffee in front of them. I knew to ignore the Wait To Be Seated sign and led Violet to a booth in the back corner.

  We ordered the breakfast combo special that Luke had labeled “The Works.” Historically, “The Works” meant anything he had cooking on the griddle, transferred to a giant, family-sized serving platter. This morning’s Works included waffles though, which was a rare treat at Luke’s.

  I told Vi my plan for the day while we sipped coffee. Things I had to do around the house, places in town I wanted to show her. I hadn’t told her about my interview on Tuesday yet.

  She lifted her hair into a clip thing and placed her paper napkin on her lap, always the lady. But then, she rolled up her sleeves and rubbed her hands together. “Where’s this famous food? I’m hungry.” The lovesick idiot in me felt my heart pound from witnessing the different sides of her and knowing she was comfortable enough around me to be herself.

  “Hey, Luke,” I yelled over my shoulder.

  Someone grunted at me from the counter.

  “My lady wants to eat.”

  “Yeah!” she yelled. Then she laughed and covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God, they’re all looking.”

  “They’re probably scared of you now.”

  As soon as the platter arrived, we filled our own plates, barely making a dent in the mountain of food between us. She was little, but she could keep up with me at the table. Over the past week, since the kiss night, one of the things I’d missed most about living with her was our meals. How we’d basically throw everything on the table and dig in—talking, eating, reaching over the table to steal from each other’s plates. It was like our time with no boundaries.

  While we ate, I told her about Dominic. How he drinks Long Island Iced Teas, his plans for law school and DC, and that he watches football.

  “So, you liked him?” she asked.

  “I’d only admit this to you, but yeah.”

  “Why won’t you tell your sister that?”

  “Because I don’t want her to be nineteen and married. He’s her first boyfriend. I want her to try different types of people, have some fun.”

  She stared at me. “You do realize that I’m twenty-one and I’ve only had one boyfriend. One I almost married, by the way.”

  I raised my eyebrows, seeing the connection for the first time. “Yeah, but you’re playing the field now. You know, all that crap you always say to me when you’re drunk.”

  Violet took a sip of her coffee and watched me over the rim of the mug. “Honestly, playing the field isn’t all that fun, and it always ends up in disaster. If you somehow convince Amelia to put off the marriage, what do you want for her? You want her to be drunk and hooking up in frat houses? She doesn’t have you to save her like I do.”

  “Well, no, obviously I don’t want that. But…” I couldn’t think of how to answer, not with my hangover.

  “But?” she asked, pushing for my thoughts.

  “But if it weren’t for you and Ollie breaking up, you wouldn’t be here at Luke’s eating ‘The Works.’ You wouldn’t have tried to push a mattress out of your doorway and ended up living with me, which were the best weeks of my college experience, by the way. Hell, I’d never know what a freaking gardenia smelled like.” I finished my coffee and poured myself another so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact.

  When I peeked at her, she furrowed her brow. “You know, you’re right.” Clearing her throat, she added, “And I wouldn’t have seen you naked.”

  I spit out of my coffee. She laughed her musical laugh as she took a waffle off the platter and plopped it on her plate.

  “Jesus, Vi.” I wiped the splatters of coffee from the table. “You want to go there? Because I got to see some things too that night.” I let my gaze drift down the deep V of the white button-down shirt she wore. Thinking of the way Violet felt—her lips, her ass, her tits in my mouth—made me majorly uncomfortable.

  Instead of backing off, she leaned forward, giving me a view of the pink lace underneath. “Oh, you mean the fluke night I had with you, my big brother?” She smirked. “You’re right. That wouldn’t have happened without me and Ollie breaking up. And who knows where that huge, fluky mistake would have gone had Sampson not walked in.”

  “Oh, I knew exactly where it would have gone.” I chuckled, taking the waffle off her plate. “Believe me, I’ve thought about where that night would have gone about a million times.”

  “Really.” The two-syllables were a challenge, not a question.

  Her flirtatious tone made my pulse quicken. “Yep.”

  “You know what your sister told me last night?” She reached for my plate and stabbed the waffle, bringing the entire thing to her mouth for a bite. As she licked her lips, one of her curls fell out of the clip, and her bright eyes held my gaze.

  I lifted my napkin to my mouth, afraid I was drooling. “What?”

  “That life is short, and sometimes you have to take chances.” She took another bite and then offered the waffle across the table to me. “Bite?”

  I must have sat frozen for a few seconds because she waved her fork at me. Chances? I leaned forward and opened my lips. She fed me the piece and waited for me to finish eating it. I had no idea what she wanted from me at the moment. “You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met.”

  She sat back, crossing her arms over her gorgeous cleavage. “Relax, Hunkarama. I know we decided to be just friends and all that.”

  “You decided,” I murmured as I chewed.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You. You made that decision when you started hyperventilating in the parking lot after our kiss.” I lifted my eyebrows as I popped a mini-muffin into my mouth, challenging her to admit it. She stared at me, waiting for an explanation. I continued, careful to keep my tone casual. “You said long-term would never work with us and you didn’t want to one-night stand me. You’re the one who doesn’t want to go further. ‘Friends,’ and all that shit.”

  She tilted her chin and pressed her lips into a snarky half-grin. “After we kissed, outside your apartment building, you told me you’d never be interested in me—”

  “Those words have never come out of my mouth. Ever. Trust me.” That’s one thing I was sure of.

  We stared each other down for a beat. A million thoughts ran through my mind, probably a million more ran through hers. Was she saying she wanted to be together? Was she just flirting? If this was an opportunity, I had to take it. “I kissed you. I stood naked and willing in front of you, and you freaked out.”

  My phone rang with Amelia’s tone. I picked it up, keeping my eyes on Violet, half glad for Amelia’s disruption and half not. “What?”

  “Ew, Josh. Good morning to you too. Where are you?” She sounded like she’d had ten cups of coffee already.

  “Violet and I came to breakfast.” Across the table, Violet reached for the syrup, and her shirt gaped open. The sight of her skin made me dizzy. I clutched the phone to steady myself. “What do you want, Amelia?”

  “Tell me about last night.”

  I knew she was anxious, but my mind was on other things—like trying to figure out the woman across from me. “Ask Dom. He’ll tell you. Gotta go.”

  “Wait!” I heard her say as I was about to hang up. “Dominic got us four tickets for the symphony tomorrow night. He thought Violet might like it.”

  I peeked at Vi again. She definitely would love that. Again, the dude had played me, but I’d take the bait. “Hmm, that sounds nice, actually. Don’t tell her. We’ll surprise her.”

  Vi looked up at me, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Good idea,” Amelia said. “Thanks, Josh. I’m really happy that you’re trying with Dominic. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Meels.” I hung up and watched Violet pour
the syrup over the last pancake she’d hoarded and then use her fork to spread the butter over it. “You’re doing that all wrong.”

  “Can I please eat in peace?”

  “You’re supposed to put the butter on first, with a knife, and then pour the syrup.”

  “Okay, breakfast police.” She rolled her eyes. “Keep living in your world of breakfast rules while I enjoy this deliciousness. So, who are you surprising?”

  Reaching over the table, I jammed a piece of her messed up pancake onto my fork. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on. Tell me.”

  “You’ll love it. Don’t worry.” I pointed to her plate. “You also owe me for taking the last pancake.”

  She laughed and raised her eyebrows. “Really? What do I have to do?”

  “Play your fiddle?” I suggested.

  “It’s a violin. And no.”

  I’d have to work on that. Maybe the trip to the symphony, even if it was just the Charlamagne symphony, was exactly what Violet needed. “It’s the fiddle or help me shovel, since the damn snow won’t melt.”

  “I pick shoveling.” She popped her pancake into her mouth. When she licked the syrup off of her lips, I had to look away.

  Shoveling wasn’t the worst idea. At least it was physical activity and I could get my mind off of Violet’s cleavage. Maybe the workout would do us both good. “Fine. Today, I give you a tour of Rambling. Tomorrow, we shovel.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Violet

  After our tour of Rambling on Sunday and a trip to the movies with the sisters, Josh and I were exhausted. Isabelle, concerned about sleeping arrangements, insisted I take Josh’s room and that he sleep on the couch, but he snuck in anyway and slept next to me.

  I loved being in his childhood space together, even if it meant a twin bed and posters of Britney Spears surrounding us. Mostly because I was getting used to sleeping with him and didn’t want to stop.

  Early Monday morning, I woke when I heard the girls downstairs getting ready for school. I started to sit up, but Josh pulled me back down, shushing me. “They’ll hear you and bother us. Let them all get to school.”

  Soon, the house was quiet, and Josh and I fell back to sleep. We didn’t emerge until lunchtime. His mom had left a list of chores for Josh and two sandwiches in the fridge for us. After we ate, we headed out to shovel.

  As I struggled with the heavy snow, I decided that maybe I should have chosen to play my “fiddle” instead because shoveling was for the birds. In the city, the snow just seemed to disappear. I’d never thought about how.

  The air was chilly, but not frigid. It actually felt kind of nice to be out of the house. Before we knew it, the buses and carpools returned with the King sisters. While we finished shoveling, they worked inside on Millie’s prom dress and Charlie’s fourth grade book report. As great as it was to have people around, I liked the quiet of the outside too.

  Josh seemed to read that. He leashed up Elmo for a walk, and we took off, enjoying the scenery and the crunch of the road under our boots. The snow made everything look so pretty. Sparkly. Like a painting.

  When we returned to the house, Josh and Elmo disappeared into the shed and I explored a little on my own, getting lost in the trees. I hadn’t felt that alone in a long time, like in the corn maze when I was a kid. This time though, I didn’t mind it. I knew I’d never get lost with Josh around to find me.

  I wandered until Josh hunted me down, like I knew he would. Once we reached the porch, I declared myself exhausted, but Josh kept going, heading into the woods and shoveling a path to God only knew where.

  I sat on the porch swing and pulled out my phone. First, I called Rachel. Her family crisis had worked itself out, and now she wanted to know everything that was going on with me and Josh. Evading her questions, I answered vaguely then made an excuse to get off the phone.

  Next, I called my parents. Mom answered on the first ring.

  “How’s Dad?” I asked as soon as she answered.

  “He’s doing well. He won’t stop working, but you know your dad.” I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was frustrated with him. “How’s Virginia? Is Josh’s family nice?”

  I gave Mom a quick summary of the Kings. Then I asked, “What happens to the snow on our sidewalk?”

  Mom laughed. “What?”

  “The snow. Who shovels it?” At her hesitation, I continued, “I don’t remember ever having to shovel.”

  “That’s because we paid someone to do it. The neighbors and your dad had some kind of contract with someone, so they’d come do the whole block. Why? Did you want to do it?”

  “Maybe.” Her chuckle at the absurdity of me shoveling aggravated me. I still needed answers. “Being in the woods is making me realize how sheltered I was in the city.”

  “Sheltered?” She was aggravated. I knew the tone. “You’ve traveled the world, Violet. Your father worked hard for us to live comfortably. Being comfortable isn’t the same as being sheltered.”

  “I guess.” My mother didn’t seem to grasp the concept that my father’s lifestyle and need to lavish us in the very best meant that I didn’t have a relationship with him, and that he’d landed himself in the hospital with a heart attack at sixty.

  “You’re being weird,” she said, clearly done with the conversation.

  I wasn’t in the mood to get into it with my mom, so I asked her to kiss Dad and told her I’d call again during the week.

  As I hung up, Josh and Elmo walked toward me.

  “Everything okay?” he asked. He looked so comfortable out in the fresh air, his unshaven face and imposing size giving him the country boy look.

  “Just talking to my mom.” Elmo ran up to me, his tail wagging. I bent down to pet him.

  “Is your dad doing better?” He jumped the steps onto the porch.

  “He is.” I stared into Elmo’s brown eyes, then looked up to Josh’s blue ones. “Do you think I’m spoiled?”

  He recoiled. “Where’s that coming from?”

  I stood and shrugged. “I don’t know. But it dawned on me that I’d never shoveled before. And I’ve never sewed a prom dress. Everything was taken care of for me, by my parents, by hired help. By Oliver. I lived in the best city in the world but never experienced anything on my own.”

  “You’re being weird.”

  “That’s what my mom said too.” I looked out over the land again. “Maybe it’s all this fresh air. It’s affecting my brain.”

  He reached to me and poked my shoulder. “Let’s go in and get cleaned up. Eat some of Grannie Grey’s soup.”

  Soup sounded like a perfect way to relax after all this shoveling. “Is that what you do after a day in the snow?”

  He nodded. “Pretty much. It’s about as exciting as it sounds.”

  “Why does it seem that I’m the one who grew up in so-called privilege, but you’re the one who knows all the stuff about life?”

  He tilted his head and squinted at me. “You know about stuff too, Pix. All that fiddle stuff. All the fancy, New York, Broadway crap. Maybe you’re just feeling out of your element.”

  “Maybe.” Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned in and pecked him on the lips. Somehow, even though it was cold in Rambling, Virginia, Josh King’s lips were warm.

  His eyes met mine in a mixture of shock and amusement, but I could tell he was nervous because he tapped his fingers against his thighs. The little kiss had felt like the natural thing to do, but I was confusing him and didn’t feel so clear myself. Why did his lips have to feel so perfect?

  I walked to the edge of the porch, taking a second for a deep breath. “So where does this weird path you’re shoveling lead to anyway?”

  “You’ll see.” He jumped off the porch and picked up the shovel I’d left at the bottom of the steps.

  When he tossed it at me, I caught it and joined him. “If someone had asked me a few months ago what I’d be doing for spring break, I never in a million years h
ave guessed shoveling.”

  “Well, then, Pix. I’m glad I could open up your world a little.” The way he glanced at me made my entire body heat. “Help me put these away?”

  We walked toward the work shed, our boots crunching on the snow. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer the question.”

  “What question?” He nudged me with his shoulder.

  “Whether I was spoiled.”

  After a long, exaggerated sigh, he said, “’Spoiled’ is such a fluid word.”

  In a swift move, I tossed my shovel into the snow and then used all my strength to shove him.

  He stumbled but didn’t fall. “Oh, you’re asking for it, city girl.” He charged me, bending to grasp me around my thighs, then tossed me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

  Elmo barked, following us, as Josh ran with me down the long driveway.

  “Don’t you dare,” I yelled, thinking he was going to dump me in a snow pile. But when we made it down the driveway, he flipped me onto my feet and leaned me against a tree.

  Laughing, we stood there catching our breath, neither of us willing to move away. The force between us took over until, finally, he touched my face. “Your cheeks are red.”

  Still catching my breath, I wrapped my palm over his stubble and pulled him closer. “Yours too.”

  He looked at me like he couldn’t believe I was there. Like I was something special that belonged with him. I tried to repeat my mantra—friends, friends, friends—but nothing inside of me felt friendly. At all. Any thought of friendship competed with my memory of him naked and kissing me. But physical attraction aside, I felt pulled to him like it was my mission to know everything about him. Like Josh held the secrets of me that I didn’t even know. Like a few minutes before, when I’d kissed him without thinking, everything had felt natural and easy, not complicated and confusing like we’d made it out to be.

  He drew patterns over my cheeks with his fingers, touching me like he was studying every inch of my face. “You kissed me on the porch,” he said.

  I grinned. “Just a little.”

  “Why?” He furrowed his brow and met my eye.