“That sounds like a great plan.”
J.P. saidhe would return in an hour, which was, coincidentally, the exact amount of time it took for Nora’s nerves to multiply exponentially until all excitement was completely edged out and replaced with fear.
She wasterrified.
She hadn’t been on a datedatein, what? Five or more years? And even her first date with Connor wasn’t anything she would write home about. He had dragged her along to a realtor convention in Hamilton, which was followed by a plated dinner, complete with live music that was just one notch above wedding singer quality.
Nora was Connor’s last-minute plus one after his previous plus one came down with an unfortunate bout of food poisoning. Connor had taken advantage of the hosted bar until his stomach finally protested as much as Nora had, and she drove them home in his vintage VW bus, the one with manual transmission that she had no clue how to operate.
That should have been a glaring red flag. She never did learn how to take the wheel in their relationship. Nora was always just along for the ride.
She felt that familiar tug of insecurity as the minutes ticked down to J.P.’s arrival. She was out of her depth with this. Her poor closet bore the brunt of her nerves, dresses haphazardly ripped from hangers, shirts and pants tugged free and left in rejected piles. She had tried everything on, discarded it all, then tried it on all over again. Finally, she settled on a simple black dress with straps that tied at her shoulders and a flattering hemline that swished mid-thigh.
Then there were the shoes. Flats felt too casual and heels would require a concentration she wasn’t sure she could muster. All focus needed to be on not making an utter fool of herself. That was not something she could do while also managing tricky shoes.
Stowed away in the depths of her closet, there was a shoebox with a pair of strappy wedges she’d bought on clearance at a boutique’s going out of business sale last summer. She’d never had the opportunity to wear them; they were obviously impractical for her cleaning jobs and not quite sophisticated enough for a night out on the town. Not that she had many of those. But tonight would be their debut. She fit them on one by one, admiring how they complimented her entire look.
Stepping back from the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door, she pulled in a breath and took herself in. She’d twisted her hair into a loose bun and touched up the makeup she’d applied earlier that morning. Nothing overboard, just a little shimmery eye shadow that made her eyes pop. She had never been a big lipstick wearer, so she coated her mouth in a neutral shade of lip gloss. Still, she felt more done-up than ever, and she wasn’t sure how J.P. would feel about it. There was a fine line between looking your best and trying too hard, and she feared she’d crossed it. At the very least, straddled it.
Moments later, when she pulled the door open after his knock sounded throughout the house, J.P.’s expression put all those worries to rest.
There was no poker face here. His eyes were wide, unhurriedly scanning her from head to toe, and his mouth parted on a sharp breath that hitched his shoulders.
“Nora.” It was her name and praise and wonder, all packaged together.
“I clean up okay, huh?”
Why had she said that? She willed some sort of magic to tug the words back, but she’d already sent them into the ether.
“I would say so.” J.P.’s eyes roved over her again, appreciation in his steady gaze.
He took a moment before he spoke again, like he was processing something.
“You are so beautiful.” It was scarcely more than a whisper.
“You too.” Nora pinched her eyes and shook her head sharply. “I mean, you look great yourself.”
He did. Other than the previous week at church, she rarely saw him in anything other than his construction clothing, and that hadn’t been bad at all. But now he stood before her in a button up, white linen shirt, the sleeves cuffed just above his elbows, revealing tanned forearms that flexed as his hands pulsed in nervous fists in front of him. And instead of blue jeans, khaki slacks tapered down to brown leather shoes that made him look all kinds of summer stylish.
“I clean up okay too, huh?” There was everything boyish about his delivery and expression, an unsure—almost shy—quality that made Nora feel less alone in her nerves.
“Better than okay, I’d say.”
She wondered how long they would stay there in this stand-off of awkward appraisal, but J.P. finally shook them free.
He reached out and took her hand. “You ready?”
A single nod was all she could offer. Her words clogged in her throat and couldn’t get past her heart that had leapt into it too.
He led her down the rickety porch stairs, carefully guiding her across the stone walkway toward his truck that sat in the drive next to her sedan. She had made the right choice with the shoes. Her high heels would never stand a chance on this uneven surface. She might as well be wearing stilts. Even with the wedges, she felt off-kilter. Her other hand moved to his bicep for balance and call her crazy, but Nora swore she felt J.P.’s muscle tighten under her grip.
His gaze slid down to her, mouth curving into a relaxed grin.
“You good?”
“Just nervous.” If both of her hands weren’t already occupied, she would have slapped her forehead. Two more dumb words to leave her silly mouth without permission.
“Me too.” That reciprocation put her at ease. “Here.” J.P. pulled on the handle of the passenger door and opened it, unfettered by the loud squeal of the metal hinges on the old pickup. “Let me.”
