Page 48 of Barefoot Lake

My mouth pops open in disbelief. Is it possible it was really that simple?

“But I was waiting for you to bring up the kiss.”

Jake nods again. “I figured that out when you were putting me in my place on my back patio earlier.”

“So, this was all completely avoidable?”

“Yup,” Jake pops the “p” and chuckles at the lunacy of what we did entirely to ourselves. “I’m not looking to repeat something like that, so I’ve decided to just be blatantly clear. I’m following your lead here, but I like you and want to spend time with you.”

He’s the one being vulnerable, but I’m the one blushing.

Communication is kind of sexy.

“I’m on board with that.”

“Good.” His shaky breath is the only noticeable sign that he’s nervous, and I find it endearing.

“Can I help with dinner?” I reach for the head of lettuce, but he lightly swats my fingers.

“Absolutely not. I’m taking care of you tonight.”

This time, Jake’s flush matches my own.

“Here.” He wipes his hands on a towel and retrieves a bottle of red wine and a wine key. “If you must help, you can open the wine and then hold your glass so you keep your mitts off the food prep.” His smile has morphed into a smirk, and I decide I like playful Jake.

He stares at me pointedly until I begin my assigned task. Only when I’m twisting the corkscrew into the cork does he turn to retrieve two wine glasses. And only after I’ve taken a sizable gulp from my glass does he go back to work.

He moves around the kitchen like he could complete this dance with his eyes closed. His hands work efficiently hollowing out the other tomato and pepper and the eggplant, which he cuts in half due to its height. He cooks the stuffing stovetop before filling everything and popping them in the oven. I’m back to being entranced, watching how his body moves so easily, an impressive feat for somebody his size.

Briefly, I tear my eyes away from him to survey the space around me. The house’s general layout is the same as mine, but where I inherited a chaotic hodgepodge style from my mom, this space exudes calming warmth. Other than the overhead kitchen light, the space has gentle glowing lamps, presumably connected to dimmer switches and turned low.

The inside of Jake’s home matches the outside world around us, with furniture in various browns, grays, greens, and tans, with splashes of blue for the lake and the sky. The door to the room beside the kitchen, a library in my house, is closed, and I wonder how he’s decided to use it, but then my eyes fall on the stairs. I quickly turn back to my wine when my mind reminds me that his bedroom is just a handful of steps away.

Down, girl!

I take another gigantic gulp from my glass.

Jake sets two bowls of salad down and claims the stool next to me, turning to face me until his knee presses into the side of my thigh. He reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear, running his thumb along my jaw as he draws his hand back.

“Bon appétit,” he says.

Every ounce of awkwardness is gone, and a warm heat fills me. I could claim it’s from the wine, but it’s all Jake. Still, we end up talking way too late.

Whether it’s that knee against my leg, Jake’s hand on mine, or his shoulder brushing my skin, we never stop touching. It’s the best torture. I don’t know how I make it through the rest of our evening without jumping his bones, but I deserve an award for my restraint.

Everything Jake made is delicious, but when he leaves me across my threshold with a too-short kiss and a firm squeeze of his hand on my hip, I find myself wishing he was on the menu instead.

CHAPTER 23

Jake

I’m standing in the fields at the nursery the next morning, but my mind is miles away, picturing the way Alice looked last night, sitting in my home as a glittering little witch. There was nothing outwardly promiscuous about her costume, but her stockings had these seams up the back of each leg and my fingers itched to trace them right under the hem of her skirt.

Last night was about getting to know one another on purpose, rather than just through random snippets of our pasts, gossip, or inconsistent attempts at friendship — my fault for pushing her away and avoiding her for so long. I just wanted to enjoy her presence in my space, something I haven’t shared with anybody other than Scott in a long time. Still, I couldn’t help but touch her. She’s like a magnet, and I wasn’t resisting very hard.

I battle between wanting to take things slow, knowing she just got out of a disaster of a relationship with city boy, and wanting to be as near her as possible. I have already wasted enough time trying to keep my distance. She must have some kind of life waiting for her back in Boston, and if she intends to return to it at some point, I want to make the most of the time I do have with her. I keep thinking back to what Eli said the first time he and I discussed Alice. I don’t have to be so cynical about other people. With Alice, I’m going to try not to be.

When a hand lands on my shoulder, I nearly jump out of my skin. I spin around to find Eli staring at me wide-eyed, hands raised in surrender.