My mouth is dry, my pulse erratic. The content noise he makes smelling the cookies goes straight to my core. I’ve never been so aware of someone’s body. How I have to crane my neck to look into his eyes, sparkling with mischief. The movement of his hand swiping his burnt chestnut hair reverberates through the air, bouncing back against my skin. The way he smells after a run, of forest and salt, is intoxicating.
I’m in so much trouble.
Carter’s going to bite my head off. I peek inside the bag with dread. The items caught my eye on my way to the coffee shop and for whatever reason I thought it would be a good idea to buy them.
“I’ve missed this place.” I sit at my usual little red table and Quinn brings me an iced coffee.
“I got some new plants since you’ve been hiding away with your hot roommate,” she says louder than necessary, drawing the attention of the two other people here, and pointing to the different potted miniature lavender shrubs. They’re scattered along the heavy wooden beam lining the whitewashed brick wall.
“I’m not hiding,” I hiss through my teeth and swat her arm. “Keep it down.”
Breathe in.The heavy aroma of coffee and baked goods settles in my soul.Breathe out.“I’m dealing with stuff.”
Quinn crosses her legs and wraps her fingers around her knee.
“You might want to deal with stuff,” she says, putting a spin on the word, “out in public too.” The blonde menace levels me with what I can assume is hergiving serious adviceexpression. “Some people went straight into true crime podcast mode.”
“I’m up and about,” I defend myself. Going to Thomas’s store and the Duntons’ must count for something. Even if I make sure there’s no human being in a ten-yard radius before I step out of the pickup truck. “I’m here!”
“Did some post-breakup shopping on your way here?” She points to the paper bag with her chin. “I’d so come with you and splurge.”
“No.” Staring into the glass is my safest bet because Quinn has the determination of a hound on a trail.
“Who’s the bag for, Eliza?” she asks with the most infuriating satisfied grin. Those dimples of hers mocking my poordecision-making.
If I don’t tell her she’ll keep pestering me and it will become even more embarrassing.
Telling the truth is the only option so I brace my elbows on the table and confess. “It’s for Carter,” I sigh.
She waves her hand for me to continue, obviously not satisfied with the lack of details.
“The man has no casual wear, besides what he wears for jogging,” I lay out my argument. “He only has slacks and different textured pants! He might have some emergency jeans.”
Quinn nods in understanding. “Not surprising, considering who he is.”
I bury my face in my hands, feeling foolish.
“Continue. I’m dying to see where this is going.”
“I got him sweatpants,” I tell her in a muffled whisper through my fingers. “Gray.”
He’s going to throw them in the backyard fire pit. Or worse. Strangle me with soft cotton leisure pants. What a way to die. “He’ll hate them and say I’m ridiculous for gifting the equivalent of store-brand toilet paper to a man who probably wipes his ass with silk.”
Quinn clears her throat and I peer at her through my fingers. Her eyes are big and glassy, with a small palm resting on her chest. She makes me nervous.
“If you get that annoyingly hot man in gray sweatpants and get a picture…” She pauses for a beat and considers her offer. “I’ll give you free coffee for—”
I burst out laughing. She’s being the kind of ridiculous I longed for as a teenager. I love it and for the first time, I don’t have to put a lid on it.
“Listen, Eliza!” She hovers over the small table. “Eliza! For a year!”
The blonde nutjob pats her apron and fishes out her notepad. “I’ll put it in writing. No joke.”
Tears fill my eyes, “I promise you. If I don’t die by pantsicide, I’ll treat you to the experience.” I swipe the fallen tear, shaking. “Expect a text. You’d better rush and gawk at him live, in all his glory.” I can barely finish my sentence between bouts of laughter.
We’re now giggling like two teenagers, and I’ve never felt so light and unbothered.
Driving back to the cabin I glance at the shopping bag sitting innocently on the passenger seat and continue to have doubts. This is stupid. It’s just pants. I’ll give them to Carter, and he can wear them or not.
