Page 27 of Love Like Lightning

Henry

I huddle close to Gia under the guise of keeping warm as we walk the few blocks to the bed and breakfast. In truth, I just like being close to her. Which…is a weird thing to admit to myself. I’m not used to feeling this way about someone, especially someone I’ve only met once before. It’s a lot, but I figure I should take Betty and Hank’s advice and see where it takes me.

When I offered to walk her, I didn’t have an ulterior motive.

Okay, that’s not true.

I didn’t want our time together to be cut short. Not that a two-hour long conversation and dinner is necessarily short, but still. Talking to her was just as easy as it was that night we met. She listens, and she cares about what I have to say.

Not for the first time, I try to think of another time when that was the case with a woman I either slept with or was trying to sleep with.

As we come up to the Victorian-esque building where she’s staying, she stops short at the wrought-iron gate that borders the yard.

“You’ve got one of the garden suites again?” I ask, although it’s obvious as she swings the little gate open.

“Same one,” she replies with a smile. I watch her cheeks go from a slight pink from the wind to a darker shade.

Oh, she’s thinking about it.

I can’t invite myself in. She just got here today. It sounds like she’ll be in town for a bit, so it’s not like tonight will be my only shot with her. Even so, the thought of walking away without so much as a kiss has my skin itching and my chest pulling tight.

I don’t have the right to a kiss or anything more, but I’m feeling desperate for it, regardless. Desperate for anything. Hell, I’d take a hug.

But I’m not going to be that guy.

You are that guy. Why drop the act for her?

The question is a head scratcher, and I consciously take a small step back to create some kind of distance between us.

“I should probably—” I start, but she blurts out a question before I can finish.

“Do you want to come in?” The moment the question leaves her mouth, she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it.

“Uh…” My heart pounds. I’m a little surprised at the offer, but I’m not stupid enough to turn it down. It’s not like I’ve got somewhere better to be. And because I’m always prepared, I’ve got my backpack with anything I could possibly need. Diabetes-related stuff, like juice boxes in case my blood sugar drops; the essentials. “Yeah, I would actually.”

I smile when she does and follow after her through the gate and up to her private entrance. She pulls a keycard from her bag and swipes it, causing a distinct click to sound. She looks over her shoulder at me with her hand on the doorknob before turning it in and letting us into her room.

Once we’re inside, I shut the door behind me and relish the warmth. She sheds her coat, throwing it over the back of the desk chair, and toes off her shoes, leaving them in disarray on the floor.

I follow suit, laying my jacket neatly over hers and setting my backpack on the ground. I set my shoes down, again neatly, and rearrange hers like mine. I know it’s not for me to do, but it makes me feel better and doesn’t cost me anything.

When I turn, she’s looking at me with a funny expression.

“Are you a neat freak?”

The question is so direct and spot on that I laugh out loud.

“And if I am?” I ask with a small grin and an odd worry in my chest.

“I’d say that I’m probably the worst person for you to be around.” She gestures to her room, which I’ve already taken in.

Even though she just flew in today, the room looks…lived in. Once again, her suitcase is splayed open, with her things bursting out of it. This time around, she has more stuff, so her less than tidy tendencies are a lot more noticeable.

“You, uh, just got in today, right?”

Apparently, my question amuses her because she grins and lets out a light laugh. “I did.”

“Do you usually unpack? Use the drawers or anything?” I don’t even know why I ask, maybe because my skin feels itchy for a completely different reason now. The urge to offer to help unpack and organize grips me in a way that’s difficult to ignore.

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