Page 13 of One Short Summer

At that, I can’t hold it in any longer and throw my head back to laugh loudly. “I do, but not the way you imply. Her daughter, Kiara, is the one running the yoga studio. But her mom uses that chance to visit often, so she can catch up on the latest news in town.”

“Ahhh.” Her eyes momentarily avert to the ground as she tucks some hair behind her ear, looking adorable as hell.

I have to say, I like this more timid side of her, even though I’m still determined to bring back her fiery side again too.

“I think of Mrs. Johnson as the heart of this town, but to warn you, she’s also very nosy, maybe even a bit sneaky.” I walk over to pull her into a side hug. “I promise, they’re all very nice. You’ll like them.”

I feel her nod rather than see it and let her go before it turns awkward. Instead, I walk over to the truck bed to grab our suitcases. “Let’s head inside and I’ll show you around.”

Monica hurries to grab her things from the front seat and follows me as I make my way toward the front door.

I sigh a breath of relief upon entering the house. It’s absolutely true what I told Monica earlier; this is a home away from home. We step inside, and she gets her first look at the open floor plan.

“Did your sisters help decorate this house like they did in Brooksville?”

I nod, tilting my head as I eye her. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

She shrugs her shoulders like it’s nothing. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

I wanna say, “Because most people don’t give a crap about stuff like this,” but I don’t. Apparently, Monica knows as much as I do that my sisters are a force of nature, and no one can stop them from decorating one of our places even if they wanted to. Not that anyone would say no to them since they have impeccable taste.

Total win-win for everyone.

We stare at each other in silence before I clear my throat. “Let’s do that quick tour, and then you can unpack. And since we don’t have any food in the house, we can either go out or order something. What do you want to do?”

“If they have decent takeout, I wouldn’t mind that. Strangely enough, I’m pooped, even though we spent the whole day in the car doing nothing.” As the words leave her mouth, she stretches her arms out and up above her head, almost like she just realized she’s been rolled up like a pretzel somewhere all day long.

The movement stretches her shirt across her chest while also revealing a sliver of skin right above the waistband of her leggings, including a small silver belly button piercing, but I tear my gaze away before she catches me staring.

“Works for me. Let’s stay in tonight then, and I can take you into town tomorrow.”

She’s holding back a yawn behind her hand as she nods. “You wanted to show me where the yoga place is anyway.”

“That was the plan.”

I show her the first level, rushing through the family room, kitchen, dining area, bathroom, mudroom, and my office. Everything looks like it always has—shiny brown wooden floors, and lots of cool and dark colors everywhere. Very manly looking, something that was extremely important to my sisters. They also insisted on adding a few colorful elements, like throw pillows, artwork, and other decor pieces to balance out all that masculinity.

When we come back to the entryway, I pick up both of our suitcases and head up the dark stairs. The second floor is decorated in the same style as the downstairs. I’ve always wondered if it’s the furniture and the decor rather than the actual house that makes it feel like home, which would explain why I’ve never woken up disoriented or confused when I’m here compared to waking up in a strange hotel room.

We walk down the hallway until we get to the door at the end of the hall. Opening it, I walk in first, placing Monica’s suitcase next to the bed.

The room is like my other guest bedrooms back home. Simple yet elegant, with a king-sized bed, large dresser, and a small loveseat under the window. “This is your room. I’ll be right next door, in case you need anything.”

I point behind me at the half-open door between the bed and the dresser. “You have your own bathroom too, so it’s all pretty much like back home. It might seem odd, but I liked the idea of having the houses look similar.”

“I like it, it’s practical.”

She gets me, and this is not the first time I think that.

Scratching the back of my neck, I make my way back to the door. “I’ll leave you alone so you can unpack. The bathroom should be stocked up with everything you need. Let me know if anything’s missing, and we’ll get it for you.”

I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is, but something feels weird about this situation. The same but also different.

New.

We’ve been living under the same roof for a year now, but I’ve never felt thisbuzzbetween us the way I do right now. As much as she might deny it, this trip has already done something to her. Seeing her smile this much again and being so carefree does something to me. It reminds me more of how she was when she first got to Brooksville last year.

“Thanks, Gabe.”

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