Her almost calling Brenna my fiancée again grated. The ring on Brenna’s finger flashed at me often enough, and I didn’t need other reminders.
“When’s the big day?” I asked, nodding toward her belly.
“I’m a month out, and I can’t wait. I want to meet her and get her off my bladder.” She laughed. “Anyway, it was great meeting you.” She tottered toward the bakery.
“Yeah, you too. Let us know if you need anything.”
She gave me a salute before heading inside. Bertram took off after confirming he’d return on opening day.
I stepped back inside the café, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.
Brenna’s hands sat on her hips. “If one of our jobs is to make nice with our neighbor, I’ll trade you.” She shook the bottle of cleaner as if to say,This could all be yours.
“No need. She’s already a big fan of you.”
“Amazing how people warm to a person who doesn’t have a permanent scowl on their face.”
“I don’t remember seeingLay into Nathanon our list this morning.”
She sighed. “I don’t remember you being this grumpy.”
“Well…” I paused my retreat to the back of the café, stopping beside Brenna. “You always did view me through rose-tinted glasses.”
Her throat bobbed. She turned her head to meet my gaze. Only inches separated us; up close like this, I could see a light brown freckle on her left cheek. Somehow I’d forgotten that detail… or blocked it, more likely. But now it was all I could focus on, remembering how I used to place my finger there when we’d lay side by side, staring into each other’s eyes.
I wondered what she thought now as she looked at me, seemingly at a loss for words.
Her lips parted briefly, like she wanted to say something.
Anything would ruin this moment, so I tossed her a half grin and took off to the back office before she could say a word.
16
BRENNA
Now
I slipped on Nathan’ssweatshirt and settled onto my bed.
After a week of nonstop cleaning in the café all day and working in the house at night, I looked forward to a relaxing evening. My clothes, packed by Molly and shipped by one of my coworkers, hadn’t arrived yet, and I ran out of clean clothes yesterday. Nathan took pity on me and loaned me a sweatshirt until my stuff arrived. I forgot how the weather here could turn on a dime—one day, ninety degrees, the next in the forties.
I regretted accepting the sweatshirt when Nathan’s scent surrounded me—fresh laundry with a hint of the strawberrybubble gum he apparently still chewed. I was already shutting my eyes, feeling peace…
The doorbell rang, jarring me out of a deep sleep. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but it was dark outside.Shit. I scrambled out of bed, realizing this must have been one of the foster cat families.
“Brenna!” Nathan hollered up the stairs as I slipped on leggings.
I didn’t dignify his shout with a response. I didn’t need him to beckon me downstairs.
I took a deep breath and pulled open my bedroom door. Nathan stood there with his arm outstretched, fist about to knock. I gasped loudly, adrenaline shooting through my body.
Nathan cracked a smile. “Still so jumpy,” he teased.
But then he realized what I was wearing—hissweatshirt—and all traces of humor fell away. He swallowed, his gaze lingering on my body before meeting mine. Our eyes locked, and my skin heated, suddenly making the sweatshirt too heavy to bear.
“I like that you haven’t outgrown it,” he murmured, looking away from me.
I never would. I jumped at loud sounds and unexpected presences, even when I anticipated them. I avoided horror movies for this exact reason. The moment when the volume diminished to pin-drop silence, then blasted creepy-ass music as someone popped onto the screen? Yeah, that was my version of hell.
