“Hey, you want to take a break?” She jerks back at my voice, and I feel like shit that I scared her. “Sorry.”“No, no, you’re fine. I was zoned out and didn’t even realize you were waiting on me. I definitely think it’s break time, though.” She sits back with a frustrated sigh.
“We have about a little over an hour until dinner is ready. You want to head up and talk about it?” I offer, feeling yet again creepy and awkward at the same time. It’s not like I’m great with people in general, but damn, it’s exponentially worse with this woman.
“God yes.” She starts gathering all her stuff, and I hurry over to help her.
Once we’ve gotten everything collected—she legit has so much shit with her today it’s shocking—she tosses her backpack over her shoulder, but I snag it before it makes it onto her back. She eyes with me a strange look in her eyes, almost like she’s curious as to what my end-goal is, and honestly, I have no fucking clue what my endgame is. I just know I want to make things as easy as possible on her, so that means carrying her bag in some convoluted way.
Leading the way to the stairs that lead to my apartment, I hesitate. I still don’t know if it’s a good idea to bring someone into my personalspace. It feels like a huge step, and mentally, I’m not sure I’m ready for it.
“We can go back down, Oakley. It’s fine.” Her soft voice, so caring and full of concern, snaps me out of my overanxious thoughts.
“Nope, this is perfect. Besides, I need to share that big-ass lasagna with someone.” I force a chuckle.God, it’s like I can’t function like a normal person around her.
“You made lasagna?” The excitement is clear in her tone.
“It’s nothing. Just made it earlier and then popped it in the oven while you were working.” I run my hand over the back of my neck, uncomfortable as all hell. I’m not sure why this feels so personal, but I’m starting to struggle with bringing her up here. But this is a good thing. Woodcroft reminding me that I’ve cut out a lot of my previous life made me realize I’m not really open in this version of my life either. I’m hoping this small step can help change that because the limbo I’m living in isn’t sustainable if I’m really trying to get over my issues.
Willow’s little body jolts me back against my door as she tackles me in a hug.
“Thank you, that’s extremely thoughtful,” she mumbles against my shoulder.
Hesitantly wrapping an arm around her middle, I breathe her in, smelling the lingering scent of coffee and fresh air.Comfort.
“It’s not a problem, Will. Let’s get inside so you can tell me about where you’re at in the book.”
Chapter 9
Willow
Walking inside James Oakley’s apartment feels surreal. It’s everything and nothing like I expected. It’s both extremely barren and homey somehow. He has a grey couch, a TV on the wall, and a coffee table in the living room. But what pulls my curiosity is the stack of books on the table, as well as the bookcase off to the side.
The bookcase is overflowing with tons of books chaotically lined up two rows deep, and I’m immediately drawn to it. I hear Oakley put my bag on a table before moving to what I assume is the kitchen.
“You want something to drink? I have pretty much anything you can get downstairs.”
“Umm, sure. A root beer sounds good,” I say absentmindedly because I just found somethingveryinteresting.
My books. Every single one of them, by the looks of it, lined up perfectly on their own shelf. The only shelf that looks pristine.
My heart rate doubles, and I can’t hold my grin back.
Mr. “I’m a loner and keep to myself” isn’t so out of the loop in this town, it seems.
“Here you g— Oh, shit.”
I turn around just in time to see that super adorable blush take over his cheeks and neck.
“So, were these pre- or post-helping me with the current book?” I ask, genuinely curious but also wanting to mess with him a little.
“Umm…”
"It’s sweet, really.” I try so hard to reel in my smirk but fail miserably.
“Listen, I got curious one day after I heard someone talking about it and picked one up. I really liked it, so I just kept reading them. Don’t go getting all cocky on me.” He’s trying so hard to make it not seem like a big deal, but to me? This is a huge deal. It’s also beyond flattering.
“Oh, I think I’m going to get very cocky about this.” The smile on my face is so big my cheeks start hurting almost immediately. But I love this. I love his shyness about this, that he loves my books, and that he took care of my books like they hold a special place in his head and home. It’s also the sexiest thing a man has ever done.
It’s not like men haven’t read my books as a way to get into my pants before, but with Oakley, it’s something else entirely. And that was in college, when they were all assholes anyway. Oakley is not an asshole. In fact, he’s the exact opposite, and my very Oakley-centered libido is waving the white flag.
