Needing something mindless to watch, she cued up the most recent season ofMasterChefand settled in for a quiet night alone.
An hour later, a knock sounded at her door, and a brief flash of fear fluttered in her chest. Thank heavens she hadn’t decided to watch the season finale ofThe Haunting of Hill Houseby herself, because she would’ve screamed at the sudden interruption. Her house was out of the way enough that people didn’t just drop by. Not out of the blue, and not at nine o’clock in the evening. For once, she was glad Nash had finally gotten her in the habit of locking her door.
Knowing she was being overly cautious but not caring in the least, she grabbed her phone, prepared to dial 9-1-1 if needed. She pulled the curtains covering the front door window just enough so she could peek out.
Nash stood there, holding up a bottle of wine and a white paper bag with The Sweet Spot’s logo on it for her to see. He raised an eyebrow, and then pointedly looked down at the knob and dead bolt.
After letting out a huge exhale, she unlocked the door. “What’re you doin’ here? I told you I wasn’t good company.”
He pulled open the screen door before stepping over the threshold and right into her space. “I’m not interested in Perfect Rory—never have been. Real Rory is the one who keeps me comin’ back.”
“Yeah, well, Real Rory’s had a real shitty day.”
“Yep, that happens sometimes when you drop that plastered-on smile.”
She stilled and looked up at him, her eyes darting between his as she tried to read him. Did that mean…had henoticedthat about her? Noticed she’d been pretending nearly her whole life? That the person the townspeople saw wasn’t the real her and certainly not the her she’d allowed herself to be with him?
She tipped her chin toward the bag. “Thought they closed three hours ago.”
One side of his mouth ticked up. “They did.”
“Then how’d you manage that?”
He shrugged. “One of the benefits of livin’ above the shop. And I promised I’d build ’em a new awning out front.”
A new awning? That meant he’d given up half a day’s work just to get her a single cupcake.
“What’d you do that for? We’ve got too many clients booked for you to give up that much time.”
“I believe the response you’re lookin’ for isthank you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”
He nodded once and smiled. “You’re welcome. You and your sister might not have a lot in common, but I’ve been best friends with a girl long enough to know that sometimes all you need is a cupcake to make it better.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers before strolling toward the kitchen.
He’d been there enough times now that he knew where everything was and didn’t have to ask her to point out where she kept anything. He didn’t pause as he pulled down a glass, uncorked the bottle of wine, and poured her a healthy serving. Didn’t falter as he plated the white chocolate raspberry cupcake he’d received in a totally uneven barter, apparently just to make her day a little brighter.
Still silent, he guided her to sit on the couch, placed the cupcake in her hand, and set her glass of wine on the table next to her. Then he sank onto the opposite end of the couch, pulled her legs until her feet rested in his lap, and stared at the TV as episode two ofMasterChefplayed on the screen.
She couldn’t deny she enjoyed these quiet moments with him. But there they were, once again tucked away at her house—she realized with dawning horror that she’d never even seen his—where no one could find them. No one would even know he was there.
That’d all been her doing, but what good had it done? The people in town were still talking about them—abouther. Still going on and on about what a shameless and apparently pitiful cougar she was to go after someone like him.
She hated that she’d conformed to some invisible Havenbrook standard and had tried to stifle the gossip. And she hated even more that he’d let her.
“All we ever do is watch TV and have sex,” she grumbled, biting into the delicious cupcake but refusing to moan.
He glanced over with a raised eyebrow. “Last I counted, you were puttin’ in about sixty hours a week, not including time with your girls. I think you deserve a break. Besides, I happen to like TV.” He squeezed her foot. “And Ireallylike having sex with you.”
She finished off her cupcake, licking every remnant from her fingertips. “We’ve never gone anywhere but my house. I’ve never even seen your place.”
Though he was no doubt remembering the time he’d attempted to take her out, he didn’t bring that up. “You’re welcome to my tiny apartment anytime you want, princess.” He squeezed her foot. “But I think this is the part where I say we don’t have to go anywhere. We have everything right here.”
“That’s not true. What if… What if I wanted to go dancin’?”
“Nothing’s stoppin’ us from dancin’.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, people don’t do that in real life. That’s only some romantic bullshit directors put into romcoms to build unrealistic expectations.”
