I shifted away from him, now busy with the work of unlocking the old door. "I'll be all right," I repeated. "You have a busy schedule."
"Where is this office? Do you have an address?"
I rattled off the street name, adding, "I've already checked out the directions online. Seems straightforward."
"There's nothing straightforward about the roads into Boston. In fact, we go to great pains to make sure they're as curved and convoluted as possible."
"I've noticed this."
"There will be rotaries," he continued. "You might want to plan an extra hour or two into your commute."
"Traffic circles," I murmured. "Thank you for the advice." I pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold. Turning back to face him, I grinned, saying, "Thanks for walking me back. And everything else today. Unnecessary but very kind."
He folded his arms over his broad chest and tipped his head toward the door. "Lock up, all right? I'll wait."
"Have a good night." I closed the door and leaned back against it, my cheek flat on the panel. I didn't need to glance through the peephole to know Linden was still there. True to his word, that one. I was willing to bet he'd stay until he heard the deadbolt slide into place and it wouldn't matter whether it took me two minutes or two hours. He'd wait and I didn't know why that sent another bolt of unease through my chest, into my belly.
The strangest thing was this wasn't any form of worry I'd known before. Something was happening inside me, something that danced along the edges of worry, but that wasn't it. All I knew about this sensation was I couldn't decide whether to move toward it or away from it.
I ran the pad of my finger over the cool metal as I drew out this ritual a few seconds longer. What would he do if I didn't engage the bolt? Would he turn the knob and step inside, press himself up against me while he announced he'd lock the door for me? Would I allow that? Would I let him barge in and issue orders? Would I acquiesce to those orders? Would I let myself enjoy it?
Seeing as I didn't have firm answers to any of those questions but most notably the final one, I closed two fingertips around the bolt and flipped it into place.
Through the panel, I heard, "Night, Jasper."
I sank my teeth into my lower lip. I couldn't help it. No one had ever invested so much energy into looking after me before. No one had ever walked me home, waited until I was safe inside. No one had ever offered me a hanky while I cried or required I change into yoga pants for some nature therapy. No one stood by while I fully and completely fell apart and then fed me stew for supper.
I worried my lip some more and gave myself a moment to be the object of his concern without trying to convince myself I wasn't enjoying it.
* * *
When a knock soundedat my door the next morning, I was one leg into a pair of slim black trousers. I hop-stumbled toward the front of the house as I wiggled into the other leg. As much as I adored my dresses and the disequilibrating power of knife-sharp femininity, there was something about a pantsuit that said,I am in fucking charge here. Try me at your own peril.
Even though this attorney was on my side, I felt the need to walk in with some ass-kicking armor in place. A bit breathless from struggling into those trousers, I pressed a hand to my forehead as I opened the door.
I'd expected to find a delivery person with another fruit bouquet from my mother (and Martin) on the other side. Maybe one of the salvage and reclamation companies I'd contacted about hauling away the assortment of bricks piled up in the backyard. Those puppies sold for as much as a buck a brick, which could add up to enough to replace the water heater and electrical panel.
I did not expect to find Linden. "Ready to go, Peach?"
"But—what are you doing here? What about your schedule? You said—"
"Everything can be moved," he cut in, twirling his key ring on his index finger. "I'll be in the truck when you're all set."
Without any further explanation or—or anything, he turned, hulked down the steps, and disappeared around the driveway. Still frozen in the threshold, I heard a door open, then shut, and the roar of an engine followed.
The damp morning air wafted over my bare feet and I shook myself back into action. I had to locate shoes, run a brush through my hair, and dust on enough makeup to disguise the shadows under my eyes from sitting up all night, wondering what to do with my life now. Busy with those tasks, I didn't allow myself to form assumptions or acknowledge the warmth coursing through me at Linden's appearance. He was driving me because he expected I'd get lost. That was it.
There was nothing special or significant about this gesture.Nothing.
After checking my hair one last time, I joined Linden in his truck. He was tapping out a message on his phone while I settled in beside him. "You really don't need to do this—"
He held up a hand. "I got it, Jasper. I know."
"Oh. Well. Thank you."
He draped his arm over the back of my seat to glance out the rear window. "No worries."
"I didn't say I was worried. I said thank you."
