Page 29 of Sweet Somethings

He couldn't stop the sudden jolt of anticipation that ran through him. He wasn't expecting any workers today, so he was guessing there was only one person who could be on the other side of that door. He just wasn't sure he was ready to see her.

The bell rang again, reminding him that Juliette was stubborn and persistent.

"I know you're in there, Roman," she called out.

He took off his gloves and opened the door, his pulse racing a little faster as his gaze ran down her body. She wore jeans better than anyone he'd ever met, with curves in all the right places. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her blue eyes bright, her cheeks as pink as her soft, clingy sweater.

"What took you so long?" she asked.

"I had my hands full," he said, shoving those hands in his pockets before he could do something far more dangerous with them.

She held up the plastic container in her hands. "I still have my hands full, unless you're willing to help me out."

"What's in that?"

"Wish cookies. Cameron and his grandmother ate yours last night, so I brought you some more."

"I'm really not a big fan of cookies."

"Eat these and I dare you to say that again."

He took the container out of her hands. "I suppose you want to come in."

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "I want to talk to you about Cameron."

"I figured." He stepped back as she moved past him.

She paused in the middle of the hallway. "You got rid of the closet."

"It opens up the living room."

"I can see that," she said tightly.

"It's just a closet, Juliette. Nothing stays the same."

"Believe me, I know that as well as anyone," she said, a sharper edge to her voice. When she turned to look at him, there was pain in her eyes along with a question. "Have you ever gone home…to wherever you lived before you came here as a teenager?"

"No."

"Have you ever thought about it?"

"I didn't leave a happy house like you did. I don't have memories of a place where life was wonderful."

"Really? Nothing in your life with your mom was good?" she asked tentatively. "No memories that were sweet?"

"Sweet, huh?" he asked with a frown. "I don't think so." But even as he said the words, flashes of his mom smiling, laughing, running along the beach as she tried to launch a kite into the air went through his head.

"There's something," Juliette said with a triumphant smile. "I can see it in your eyes. What was it?"

"It was nothing."

"It was a memory that wasn't bad."

"We were flying kites on the beach."

"What beach?"

"Santa Monica. We lived in Los Angeles. Not on the beach; we couldn't afford that. But occasionally we'd take the bus down there on a hot day. We didn't have air conditioning, and it was hot a lot. Sometimes we'd go to the market, just so we could stand in front of the freezer section for a while."

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