Page 48 of Love Like Lightning

“I’ve got to shower quickly. Ten minutes, tops. You can go on ahead and get your tea, and I can meet you down here. Betty and Hank are great, super nice. Or you can come up and wait for me. Whichever is more comfortable for you.”

Freezing, I watch him take his keys out and unlock his door. Do I want to spend anywhere from the next five to ten or so minutes sitting with two people I don’t know over a cup of tea? Not really.

Do I want to go upstairs to Henry’s apartment with him and presumably sit on his couch in his living room while he strips naked and takes a shower not so far away from me?

Absolutely not.

But as a friend, that shouldn’t be an issue for me. “I’ll wait for you.”

So that’s exactly what I do. Henry stops at the landing, takes his boots off, and leaves them outside his door. Once he opens it, we walk into a vast, open living space.

“I’m going to be quick. Feel free to make yourself at home.” Henry leaves me quickly, walking down the hallway to the right.

I take in the large sectional couch set in what’s supposed to be the living room area to the far left. A large TV hangs alone on the wall facing the couch. Straight ahead is the kitchen, which is pretty large for a one-bedroom unit. The island takes up nearly half the length of the space. He has clean stainless-steel appliances and a funky Edison bulb lighting feature hanging above it all.

Just to the right of the entrance is a small dining area fitted with a round table with four chairs. Hanging above the table is a similar lighting fixture to the one in the kitchen. The whole space looks lived in, but incredibly tidy. It even smells clean, like maybe he wiped down the kitchen with some kind of citrus cleaner just today.

I almost don’t want to walk farther into the space. I’m worried I might touch something and accidentally clutter it up.

I walk slowly around the kitchen and into the living room, and I do end up perching on the edge of the couch, but I don’t want to get too comfortable.

I hear the shower turn on, and my entire body heats in an almost Pavlovian response to the knowledge that he’s getting naked.

I have got to get a handle on this.

Trying to shift my focus, I lean forward and rifle through the few coffee table books he has set out. My attention snags on a particularly interesting looking photo book, and I lean back into the couch and flip it open.

The book contains all kinds of photos. Everything from black-and-white portraits to landscapes. There are photos of animals on a cute-looking farm, close-ups of cityscapes, and photos of delicious looking food. I flip past a lively-looking farmers market full of people talking and laughing, then pause on an almost hauntingly beautiful black and white portrait of a young man when I hear footsteps coming down the hall.

Craning my neck, I watch as Henry pulls on a long-sleeve tee as he walks toward the couch. The sight of his damp chest is enough to throw me into a hot flash.

Whipping my head back around, I focus on the book in my lap.

“Oh, you found Leah’s book.” His voice flows over my body from just behind the couch.

Pulling a face, I turn to look at him against my better judgment. Of course, freshly showered, he looks nothing short of a freaking Abercrombie model. Water clings to his hair, darkening his curls, and small droplets sluice down his jaw. His cheeks are bright pink, and he’s got a devilish look in his eyes.

“Leah? From Books N’ Brew?” I close the book onto my finger, checking the cover for the name of the photographer.

“She’s a photographer.” He comes around to sit next to me, the heat from his body doing more than that cup of tea ever could.

“Yeah, she told me.” I open the book up again to the photo of the guy.

“You met?”

Glancing over to him, I nod. “She seems nice. Asked if I needed headshots or anything. It sounds like she’s not getting to flex her photography muscles as often as she’d like.”

“Yeah, she actually works with my parents up at the lodge part time. I don’t think there are too many weddings or events going on right now, so that might be why.” He looks down at the book in my lap, a deep V marring his face. “Hey, listen, don’t mention that I have this book to her? She’d hate it if she knew that I got my hands on it.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure this is mostly her older work, for one thing. Also, that’s my brother.” He taps his finger on the black-and-white photo before dropping his hand back in his lap.

“Wait, what?” I take a closer look. I can’t tell the color of his hair or eyes. But he’s clearly a white man, early twenties, if I had to guess. As I focus more on the shape of his face and the curl of his hair, I can see the resemblance. They have the same jaw and similar noses. He’s not smiling too hard in the photo, but I can almost see the same exact dimple as Henry has too. “Oh, wow. That’s…” I’m not really sure what to say about it. The photo seems intimate, full of an emotion I can’t quite place.

“They went to school together. That’s what she said when she moved out here years ago, but it didn’t sound like they knew each other all that well. At least, not the way I remember it.”

Stealing a glance at him, I find his eyes glued to the book. “So they were friends?”

---