“Zoe’s family owns it.”He glances over.“Have you met Zoe?”
“Not yet.”
“You will.Her dad used to manage the store, but her brother Raf does now—he’s my brother-in-law, married my sister Katie.You’ll meet them both at Sunday dinner.”
I stop.“Sunday dinner?”
“Yeah, it’s a thing.Katie moved out when she got married, so Mom likes to pull everyone back together on Sundays.She and Raf missed last week because his parents were heading down to Arizona for the winter, and they were helping them pack up.”
I flip to a fresh page and scribble, adding names to a list that is, frankly, getting out of hand.
He glances down at it.“How long is that thing?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“That long?”
“I have a lot to get through.”I flex my cramping hand.“The writing is one thing, but the photos, the b-roll, the full visual package—I’m handling all of it.”
“By yourself?”
I nod, regretting how whiny I sound.
He considers that, and I can see the question forming before he asks it.“What happens if you run out of time?Would you have to stay longer?”
Something shifts in the way he holds himself—barely perceptible, tension moving through his shoulders.But when I glance up, there’s something else there too, a spark of something—interest?panic?—he doesn’t quite flatten in time.
“Relax, hotshot.”I flip the notebook shut.“Deadline’s December eighteenth.I hand everything in, and I’m out of your hair.”The word catches the moment it leaves my mouth.
Hair.
His hands.
I can’t help myself; I revisit the moment again.I’m back in the bathroom.His hands in my hair, slow and reverent, like he had all the time in the world.The way he leaned in, breath mingling with mine, stopping just shy of my mouth.
I felt it when he pulled back.Felt the loss of him like a physical ache, enough that I chased him, his mouth, without thinking.I gave myself away before I could talk myself out of it.
I clear my throat and glance toward the horizon where the sky has turned soft and amber at the edges.“The light’s going.Thank you for this, Maddox.Really.We should get home.You’ve had a long day and must want to start your weekend.”
He doesn’t argue but doesn’t look away immediately either.My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance at the screen.
My stomach drops.
Blane.
I shouldn’t answer.We have nothing to talk about, but he’s persistent, and he’ll keep calling if I don’t squash whatever this is.
“I have to take this.”I hold the phone up.“I’ll see you at the house.”
“I can wait.”
I flounder for a second, not wanting him anywhere near this phone call.“It could be a while, and I don’t mind the walk.”
“Grace, the sun is dipping, and it’ll get colder.”He nods down the crossroad of Rimrock Avenue.“I’ll head over to the Nest, Oliver’s place.Come find me after.”
The phone stops ringing, and I exhale slowly, hoping I’ve dodged a bullet.Anything to do with Blane always leaves its mark.
Maddox grins.“Looks like you don’t have?—”