My eyes snap to his face, but he’s looking at Elsie, only talking to her.
I think it’s an accident until he does it again, firmer this time, nudging my foot.
So I do the only thing I can do.
I bump his foot right back.
And this time he reacts, his lips quirking up.
It’s silly, so incredibly silly, but it makes something bloom in my chest. Seeing him grin, being playful, light and free after such a heavy day—it does something to me.
“Can I get you another?” Callum asks, gesturing at my empty glass.
“Oh.” I didn’t realize I’d finished it already. “I—I’m good. Thank you.”
Jacob shifts closer, and under the table, where no one can see, the full length of his leg presses against mine.
It’s nothing, really, nothing compared to what the two of us have already done together, but it makes my insides go haywire.
“I think I’m ready to leave, actually,” I say.
“Oh.” Callum’s brows crease.
Beside me, Jacob doesn’t move, his leg still pressed against me. He doesn’t say anything, not even when Callum continues, asking, “Can I walk you out?”
I don’t hesitate. I offer him a smile, but shake my head.
He’s handsome, and seems sweet, and I think he might be making a move, but there’s only one man I’m interested in tonight.
“That’s okay,” I say. “It’s only a short walk back.”
I scoot out of my chair, and a millisecond later, Jacob follows.
“It was nice seeing you,” I tell Callum, who offers the same pleasantries, and Elsie says she’ll see us back at the inn.
Once I’ve gathered my purse and slipped my sweater around my shoulders, I turn to look at Jacob.
“Are you ready to head out too?”
“Yes,” he says. He steps closer to me, and the rest of his words come out as a rough whisper, one I swear I can feel, the barest breath traveling over the back of my neck. “I absolutely am.”
17
“I didn’t know your full name before today,” Jacob says as he walks beside me.
I squint at him, trying to make out his face in the growing dark.
“You didn’t?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t realize Neelu was short for anything.” He pauses. “But I like it.Neelam.”
A warm sensation flutters through me. There’s something about hearing my full name, about hearinghimsay my full name, that makes me feel like bubbles are rising in my chest.
“I like it too,” I say. “And what about you? No one’s ever shortened your name? Called you Jake?”
He laughs, the sound so rich it seems to echo off the cobblestone street.
“No,” he says. “I’m not a Jake.”
