Page 127 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
I’m ten minutes away from Silver Creek when it occurs to me that I’m alonein my car. Since I work from home, and it’s only Jack and me, I’m almost neveralone in my car. And everyone knows the car is one of the very best places to sing at the top of your lungs.
Before Jack, or before Trevor, really, I took just about every opportunity I could to sing in the car. Or in the shower. Or the kitchen, or anywhere, really. There wasn’t much that filled me up like music did.
I know that part of me still exists somewhere down deep, but it’s been hard to find it lately. I haven’t played the piano or sung anything real in years. Not since Trevor sold my piano.
A shot of pain slices through me, and I press my lips together.
I’m fine.
I weathered a storm, and now I’m standing on the other side of it.
I’msingingon the other side of it.
I crank up the music,P!nk, becauseof course,and sing like my life depends on it. Andoh,it feels good. So good. I don’t stop until I reach Silver Creek. I’m out of breath, and my cheeks are flushed when I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror, but I haven’t felt this good, this much like myself, in longer than I can remember. An image of Perry pops into my mind. I’m not sure what it means that when I’m feeling this good, it’s him I think about. Maybe it’s that he feels like possibility, and for the first time in a long time, possibility doesn’t feel so scary.
I wind my way through the tiny town until I reach the long drive that leads into Stonebrook Farm. The peace I felt moments ago immediately melts into nerves, and I grip the steering wheel a little tighter.
I can do this. I’mreadyto do this.
I’ve never been on the property when it hasn’t been filled with vendors and food trucks for the harvest festival. I always thought it was a pretty place then, but it’s even more gorgeous without all the clutter.
Rolling pastures on either side of the tree-lined drive, surrounded by forests ablaze with fall color. White picket fences, and of course the massive farmhouse sitting up on the hill. I round the bend and pass the entrance to the restaurant opening next month. The exterior is stunning. Exposed beams, fancy rock work, and a modern metal sign over the door that readsHawthorne.
So far, the work I’ve done for Perry hasn’t had much to do with the restaurant, but he did ask me to proofread the final menu, and oh my word, I was near starving by the time I got to the end of it. I know Perry’s nervous, but there’s no way this restaurant isn’t going to succeed. People will drive anywhere for a menu like that one.
I park the car and will my heart rate to slow. I pull down my visor and check my reflection one last time. “There’s no reason to worry,” I say as I smooth my eyebrows. Do they look bushier than normal today? I lean a little closer.Oh my word.They need plucking something awful. I cannot face my hot boss with a unibrow.
Fine. It’s notreallya unibrow, but I do look like I lost my tweezers three months ago and never bothered to replace them.
I bite my lip, debating. I keep tweezers in my car because any woman worth her salt knows natural light is the best tweezing light. Also the best light in which to find horrifying inch-long hairs on my chin thathadto have grown in overnight because HOW ON EARTH did I miss that thing yesterday?! But right now, seconds before coming face to face with Perry, isnotthe time to think about tweezing.
I snap my visor closed. “You can’t pluck what you don’t see, Lila. Now get on with it. Hotty Hawthorne is waiting for you.”
A light knock sounds on my window, and I jump, a hand flying to my chest.
Apparently, Hotty Hawthorne is standing right outside my car door.
He steps back while I scramble out, tossing my bag over my shoulder, hoping against hope that he didn’t hear me calling himHotty Hawthorne. “Hi. Good morning,” I say, a little too cheerily. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”
“Not at all. I was walking back from the barn and saw you. Sorry to startle you.”
I wave away his concern. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Were you, uh . . .” He pushes a hand through his hair. “Were you talking to someone?”
My gut tightens. “Why? Could you hear me?”
Perry doesn’t smile, but his mouth twitches just enough for me to think heabsolutelyheard me. “Um, no,” he says unconvincingly. “Not at all.”
Unconvincing or not, the conversation will end faster if I pretend like he’s telling me the truth. I mean, the alternative is coming right out and admitting I’ve been thinking of him asHotty Hawthorne,and that is not going to happen. “You know. Just giving myself a little pep talk,” I say.
He nods. “Right. Absolutely. I do that sometimes too.”
He does not. I’m sure of it. But I appreciate him trying to make me feel better anyway.
Perry rocks back on his heels and looks toward the farmhouse. “Shall we go inside?”
“Yes! Absolutely.” I fall into step behind him, following as he curves around the house to what looks like a side employee entrance. He’s dressed casually, a lot like he was last weekend when he blew a tire. You won’t hear any complaints from methough. The man makes jeans and flannel look good. And those jeans makehimlook good.
