Page 26 of A Small Town Spring

“It’s lovely.”

“Well, it’s a lovely cottage.I’ve enjoyed staying here.”

“I’m glad,” he says warmly.

“There’s—ah.”Suddenly my idea of a welcome home thank you dinner feels oddly inappropriate as I stand here nearly naked, Kingston watching me with his all-knowing eyes.Texting and all the hours I’ve spent painting his face aside, we’re still relatively new friends.

And I just got out of a relationship.

And he might not even be interested in me the way I can’t seem to help but be interested in him.

And and and and…

But none of that matters.I did arrange dinner, and I owe more than a simple meal to him.Besides, I’m greedy for his attention after having to make do with scraps for so long.

Trying to sound in command, I say, “There’s bubbly in the fridge, and I made cucumber water, too.If the pizza arrives, I already paid them.I’ll be back in a sec.”

I retreat to my room before he can demand further explanation and throw on some clothes, a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that I’m certain I haven’t worn since I washed it.I rub as much water as I can out of my hair with the towel, finger comb it away from my face, and wish I’d thought to get a haircut, but whatever.This isn’t a date.It’s not anything, I tell myself.It’s only Kingston.The man who I haven’t once fallen asleep without thinking about while lying in this bed for the past month.

Fuck me sideways.

I’ve built this up in my head and now I’m freaking out.

Which is stupid because as far as Kingston’s concerned, I’m just the loser he’s letting stay in his guest room for a while.

I swipe on some deodorant, don’t bother putting on shoes or socks, and return to the living room, where Kingston’s shutting the front door.He turns toward me with a pizza box in hand.

Only thing to do is brazen this out.“Great, it came.I hope you’re hungry.I made a salad, too.”

Avoiding meeting his gaze, I take the pizza and go to the kitchen, where Kingston must have gotten out the two glasses that sit next to the bottle of bubbly I picked up on Pete’s recommendation.

“Toby?”Kingston leans against the counter and crosses his arms.

“Yeah?Do you like your salad dressed?”I put down the pizza and pick up the jar of vinaigrette I mixed together earlier.I shake it like a maraca to get the oil and vinegar to blend.

“What’s all this?”Kingston doesn’t sound mad or confused.Maybe a little amused.

I’m nervous, which is completely stupid, because—one more time for the cheap seats in the back—this isn’t anything.“I really appreciate you giving me a roof over my head.And this is a small thank you.So, thank you.”

He peers at me as if he doesn’t quite believe me, but finally he says, “You’re welcome.”Then he opens the pizza box and lets out a sharp bark of laughter.

“Olive,” he says.

“What else would it be?”I ask with a grin.

And after that, it’s as easy as our text conversations.We talk, we drink, we eat.And it’s all frighteningly wonderful.

We’ve put away the leftover pizza and finished off the salad.“Dessert?I got sugar cookies from Beck and ice cream.”

I open the freezer, and Kingston looks over my shoulder.“I’ll say.”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked.”To compensate, I basically got one of everything in the freezer aisle.

“I like…”

I wait, my hand hovering over the containers, waiting for him to finish the sentence.But he just hums.“I think I’m good, actually.”

“Okay.”I pull out some vanilla ice cream for myself.I pick up a spoon and a dish and take a scoop, then plop half of one of Beck’s outrageous sugar cookies on top.

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