I nod. “Sounds perfect.” Then, without missing a beat, I add, “And what about the cat?”
Jamie bursts out laughing. Cal, on the other hand, levels me with a flat look, clearly less amused. That only makes the joke better.
“In all seriousness, thank you. How much do I owe you?”
Jamie waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. Just call it a favor. I have a feeling you’ll need me again at some point, so just keep me in mind.”
“Deal. If there’s ever anything I can do to help you out, just say the word.”
She nods, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that. I’ve got another stop, so I should get going. Nice meeting you, Knox.”
Her gaze drifts to Cal as she gives him a once-over that’s anything but subtle. “Good seeing you again, Callan.”
I lean against the counter, arms crossed, watching Cal withbarely concealed amusement. The smirk on my face? Completely involuntary. He waits while Jamie gathers the rest of her things, then walks her to the door. When it latches shut behind her, the soft click rings out like the final note in whatever the hell that just was.
The second he turns and sees me standing there, he jabs a finger in my direction. “Don’t.”
I hold up my hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
His eyes narrow. “I won’t tell Mum about Juliette if you don’t say a word about Jamie.”
That does it. A full, booming laugh rips out of me as I push off the counter. “You’ve got a deal, brother.”
sixteen
JULIETTE
It’s been raining all day, but somehow, it only makes everything feel more alive. The gray sky hangs heavy as the rain falls steady. All I want to do is capture the scent of rain and the hush of the world to take with me.
I glance in the bathroom mirror again, swiping a final coat of mascara over my lashes as the bathroom door creaks open. My aunt’s face pops around the edge of it.
“You look beautiful,” she says, a genuine smile tugging at her lips.
I raise an eyebrow, meeting her gaze through the mirror, and return her words with a little smirk. “You’re the beautiful one, but thanks.”
I brush a hand through my hair, the soft waves falling past my shoulders. I didn’t want to try too hard, so I kept the makeup light, just enough to feel put together. My outfit’s a little more polished, though. I went with my oversized sand-colored sweater and a pair of slim jeans, but the touch that really gets me is the necklace.
My mom’s. The one she wore all the time when I was achild. It’s gold and delicate; the chain is so fine it practically disappears against my skin. At the center, a tiny oval locket sways gently with every movement. The edges are scalloped, worn smooth in spots from years of my mom’s touch. I used to watch it catch the light when she bent to kiss my forehead, that glint of gold pressed warm against my cheek.
“What time is Knox coming to get you?”
I glance at my phone. “He’s supposed to be here around four. So any minute now, really.”
She nods, giving my arm a soft squeeze. “I’ll let you finish up, then.”
I take one last look in the mirror, smoothing a hand down the front of my sweater, then reach for the bottle on the vanity. One quick spritz, and the scent unfurls in the air—citrus at first, followed by a trace of sandalwood. With a quiet snap, I close my makeup bag.
As I’m zipping up my boots a few minutes later, the low rumble of a truck rolls in like a heartbeat in the distance. The sound gets louder, then fades, signaling that it’s stopped.
My heart leaps. Why am I nervous? I’ve seen Knox multiple times now. Our first encounter was way more nerve-racking than this, so why do I feel like a teenager getting picked up for prom while her parents are glaring at her from the front window?
With a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders and head to the living room, determined to get to the door before Aunt Rose. The absolute last thing I need is for her to answer it for me. That would crank the awkwardness up to about a hundred real quick. Nope. Not happening.
When I catch sight of Knox, the hills framing him like a perfect backdrop, I’m speechless. I can’t even blame it on the rain anymore. He hasn’t done anythingbut flash that perfect smile before heat curls low in my stomach and my breath stumbles right along with my common sense.
I’ve got it so bad.
For a moment, I just stare. I let my gaze linger on him, soaking in every detail, marveling at how effortlessly he pulls off looking so damn good. He’s wearing a flannel button-up again, sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. His jeans are faded just enough at the edges, worn-in and perfect. And, of course, my heart decides to skip again, trying to remind me how hopeless I am.
