Damn it.I need to get a grip. I shouldn’t be noticing how her deep blue sweater clings just right, or how her dark hair’s pulled into a loose braid that reveals the elegant curve of her neck.
Before my thoughts get too carried away, Lucy rushes over, relieving her of half the stack. “Oh my goodness, Juliette! I didn’t expect you to bring so many!”
“I got carried away at the bookshop,” she says with a laugh. “The owner kept recommending Scottish authors I absolutely had to read, and well, here we are.”
I stay where I am, watching as she sets the books down on a table. She arranges them by size, her fingers moving with careful precision. Her movements are graceful and unhurried. I try, but it’s damn near impossible to remember why I ever thought keeping my distance was a good idea.
I can’t stand here all night like a brooding statue in work boots, pretending I’m not itching to close the space between us. So, I do what any rational, emotionally mature man would do.
I walk over.
“Careful,” I say, nodding at the stack of books. “If youalphabetize them, Rose might start expecting that kind of organization from the rest of us.”
“Knox!” she exclaims, nearly dropping one of the books. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Actually, I’ll be honest. I may have asked Lucy what time you’d be here.”
“May have?”
I just shrug.
She laughs, the sound warming something in me that’s been cold for longer than I care to admit. “And here I thought our meeting was serendipitous.”
“I’m not above a bit of reconnaissance when necessary.”
I have a hard time believing I’m the only one feeling this crackling thing between us that seems to live in the air whenever we’re within a few feet of each other. It’s not just in my head. It can’t be.
The way she looks at me says she feels it, too. Her cheeks flush, just enough to make my pulse pick up speed.
Her mouth opens like she’s going to say something, then closes again. She presses her lips together and glances down at the books like they suddenly need more rearranging, like looking at them is safer than looking at me.
I watch the curve of her mouth. The way she tucks a stray hair behind her ear again, fingers a bit too fidgety. The slight sway of her body as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Not nervous, exactly, just aware. Of me.
And damn if that awareness doesn’t stir something reckless in me.
If I reached out and touched her cheek, would she lean into it? Would her breath catch the way mine just did?
I clear my throat, forcing my gaze away before my thoughts go too far. Before I let myself imagine things I have no business wanting.
“What are your plans for the rest of the week?” I ask.
She exhales a breath she’s clearly been holding, her shoulders relaxing just enough for me to see the tension slip away.
“Nothing much, honestly. I’ve been raiding my aunt’s pantry since I got here, so I need to make a grocery run to replace everything I’ve eaten. I promised her I’d restock the tea biscuits she pretends not to hoard in the tin above the fridge.”
“Just groceries?” I ask, not bothering to hide my amusement.
“Just groceries,” she confirms with a small laugh. “It’s my turn to plan our dinners this week.”
“Do you like to cook?”
She lets out a chuckle, the sound lifting the heaviness off my chest. “Honestly, I do enjoy it but I’m not very good. Aunt Rose does most of the work while I supervise. I’ve proven myself untrustworthy when it comes to handling sharp knives.”
She gestures toward her left hand, which I now see has a bandage wrapped around her index finger. “No stitches,” she adds with a wry smile. “Hurt my pride more than anything else.”
“Christ, lass. I’ve seen grown men lose fingers that way. You should take a knife skills course.”
“Are you offering, Captain?” she quips.
