He chuckles as he passes by—my mouth agape—and closes the bathroom door with a click. I don’t know what just happened, so I shake it off and get dressed into something other than my ridiculous pyjamas. Deciding on jeans and an oversized crisp white shirt, I spend a minute or two perfecting the French tuck and arranging everything to look just so. I’m pleased with my outfit; a black leather belt with a nice silver buckle to match my silver hooped earrings and my black leather boots with silver studding. I throw on a long grey cardigan to keep warm just as Jake comes out of the bathroom, the smell of soap and that delicious aftershave travelling into the bedroom with the steam from his shower. He’s all ready to go, the same jeans as yesterday with a tight black t-shirt that stretches over his biceps and does nothing to conceal the expanse of muscle on his torso. Stopping in the doorway briefly, he blinks at me a couple of times.
“You, uh, you look nice.” He seems surprised by his own words, and I can feel my blush.
“Thanks.”
“Ready to go? We have an itinerary to keep to.”
I snort. Actually snort like a pig. Covering my nose with my hand, I try to hide it even though it’s already out in the world. Jake’s amused smirk has me fighting my own smile. “Shut up.”
“Didn’t say a thing.”
Frost had settled on every available surface overnight, making everything white as though it had snowed. Delicate icicles hang from barren branches and the pavement seems to shimmer in the early morning sun. We could walk to Harry and Lisa’s from the hotel as it’s on the same road. Pear Street and the surrounding roads were all once part of a huge orchard, many years ago. When the area was developed, a new suburb in Surrey was created and a huge number of the plots were sold to self-builders, so all the houses are unique and beautiful in their own way. Pear Street runs through the middle of the area and holds some of the most expensive and extravagant houses, which then thinned out to make way for several small independent shops and restaurants with the hotel at the end of it all. A twenty-minute walk through the cute parade and we would be at Harry’s. But Jake takes one look at the small heel on my boots and says we’ll drive.
“I am perfectly comfortable in these,” I say, climbing into the passenger seat of his Volkswagen Atlas. “I could walk.”
“That’s good, have you seen the itinerary for today?” he asks, blasting the heater to defrost the windscreen.
I pull the schedule from my old faithful Michael Kors handbag that my parents had bought me a few years ago, and check today’s events.
09:30-11:00 – Breakfast at Pear Street.
11:15-13:00 – Walk along the common.
“Great,” I sigh. “A nice long walk in the cold.”
“You want to go change your boots?” he smirks.
“No,” I answer stubbornly. I mean, these bootsarecomfortable and it’s only a two-inch heel. Plus the common is a network of paved walkways going around the hilly green so the ground will be even. But, if I’m being completely honest with myself, trainers would probably be a safer option.
“Okay,” he says but he sounds unconvinced as we pull out of our parking spot. “Hey, about earlier—”
“I wasn’t staring!” I blurt out.
“Oh, Nels,” he chuckles. “You were totally staring.” He turns to face me to give me one of those powerhouse smiles before turning back to the road. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean this morning, when we woke up.” He clears his throat looking a lot less confident. “I’m sorry for uh, you know.”
“Grabbing my arse?” I ask innocently, enjoying his discomfort a little too much.
“Yeah, that. I’m a bit of a cuddly sleeper and I guess in my comatose state, my body didn’t really understand the dynamics at play. It was inappropriate and I apologise.”
Oh. It’s inappropriate. Of course, it is. I’m his best-friend’s annoying little sister, and he’s a god among men, working with children every day, and volunteering to fight fires in his down time. I’m the overweight social caterpillar who’d rather cocoon herself than deal with people, and who’s made a career by basically taking her clothes off for the camera. But hearing the words from his mouth stings. It really stings.
“It’s fine,” I say quietly.
“No,” he shakes his head. “It’s not.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think my comatose body didn’t understand the assignment either. I don’t know how I ended up in the middle of the bed.”
“Not a cuddly sleeper?” he asks with a cheeky smile.
Oh God, why are my cheeks heating again. “Actually, uh, I have never slept with anyone before.”
“What?” He snaps his head toward me, swerving the car nearly into the kerb.
“I mean physicallysleptwith someone, I’m not a virgin or anything,” I ramble. He stares ahead with a strange expression on his face. “Don’t know why I felt the need to tell you that.”
“How have you never slept in the same bed as someone?”
I shrug, looking out the window. “I like my space; I don’t like to share.”
