Page 17 of Out on a Limb

Swish, swish, swish.

In the silent darkness, the grass is loud against our boots. Did Jana always wear walking boots to work? Or only since moving into the cabin?

“Flint is… good looking.” God, I sound sour, and I wince at the approaching treeline. There’s no hiding the jealous tinge to my voice.

Jana hears it too, her head whipping around and her eyes wide in the moonlight. “Flint?” She sputters out a laugh. “You think I like my boss?”

Embarrassed warmth climbs the back of my neck, but you know what? I don’t regret giving the game away like that. Not after hearing the disbelief in Jana’s voice, and getting my sure answer: she’s not into him.

Thank god.

“Some women like a silver fox,” I say, happy to tease now I know there’s no risk of Jana really wanting Flint. My chest feels looser, my breaths come easier, and I swing our hands between us without thinking.

She snorts, barging my upper arm with her shoulder. “Not this woman.”

“No, that’s right.” I barge her back, gently. “You’ve got taste, haven’t you, sweetheart? You like ‘em blond and weather-beaten.”

I’m just messing around really, trying to flirt my words into reality, but Jana presses her lips together and says nothing. Her stubborn silence shouts louder than those drinkers back at the bar, and as we step into the trees, my heart is drumming.

Hell yeah.

She’s into me.

Maybe not head-over-heels yet, maybe not ready to declare eternal love, but she’s attracted. Tempted. The sparks I feel when Jana Kumara is near aren’t completely one-sided, and I could crash to my knees with gratitude.

An owl hoots somewhere above us, hidden among the branches. Now that we’re beneath the canopy, there’s no silvery moonlight to see by, and I can’t make out Jana’s expressions anymore. There’s only her small hand in mine, her fingers so slender and delicate, and the quiet puffs of her breaths as we work our way steadily uphill. Distant wolf howls echo from another valley.

Dried pine needles crunch beneath our boots. The air here smells like damp moss and tree sap.

Her hand is in mine.

That’s all I can think about. We’re touching each other—not just a casual touch on my arm as she reaches past me into the refrigerator; not just the meeting of fingertips as I pass Jana her morning mug of coffee.

This is a sustained touch. Palm against palm; fingers woven together. When I position my fingertip, I can feel the tap, tap, tap of Jana’s pulse in her wrist.

It’s quick. Fevered. Like she’s bowled over by this too, driven to distraction by the smallest, most innocent bodily contact. And now all I can think of is all the other places I want to touch her—the crease of her elbow and the soft, tickly patches behind her knees; her throat and stomach and the delicate bow of her upper lip.

“Jana,” I say, and my voice is hoarse. I don’t know what I’m asking for exactly, don’t know what I need to hear, but her breath hitches and her strides lengthen beside me. Now she’s tugging me along, towing me up the mountain trail.

“We should get back,” she says quickly. “It’s really late.”

She doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t want to confront the thick tension building between us—not yet.

Swallowing my disappointment, I walk the rest of the way home in silence.

Ten

Jana

It’s harder than you’d think, faking an engagement. Or not faking one, exactly, but making an engagement-on-paper seem like the real deal. For starters, this is a small town, and everyone in Starlight Ridge is neck-deep in each other’s business.

I’m serious. If you sneeze in the florist’s, an hour later in the bakery, someone else will ask if you have hay fever. If you check out a library book, some grandma will want to analyze the big twist ending with you in the line for the coffee counter.

Everyone knows everything, and that’s that. Starlight Ridge is no place to keep secrets.

“Scooch closer,” I murmur to Stig, trying not to move my mouth so much that people can lip-read. He shuffles his chair a few inches closer to mine, the metal legs scraping over the paving stones.

Honestly, even though it might sound claustrophobic, I’ve always loved the gossipy nature of this town. I moved here years ago, leaving the cold, bustling anonymity of the city. After a lifetime of being no one, just another stranger in the street, I freaking loved being in the loop for a change. Being included.

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