Page 253 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Lennox holds my gaze for a long moment, his green eyes sparkling, before he reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “Stay warm, all right?”
I nod, but as he pulls away, I stop him, reaching up to grip his wrist. “Lennox, wait.”
He stills, his other hand falling from the doorknob. I suddenly get the sense that if I were to ask Lennox to stay, to share the soup he brought and hang out with me through the storm, he’d probably say yes.
If not for Mrs. Sprinkles and her generator, I might ask him to.
“I still don’t have your number,” I say instead. “If something were to happen, can I call you?”
Outside, a gust of wind rattles the shutters and we both turn toward the window.
“It’s on a sticky note stuck to the outside of the box of crackers,” he says. “Text me so I have your number too.”
“Okay. Be safe, all right?”
He nods, then disappears down the steps.
I run across the room to the window, peeking through the blinds to see him climb into Brody’s truck and slowly pull out of the lot. I watch him until he makes it down the main drive and turns out of sight.
Well.
How am I supposed to relax afterthatinteraction?
I immediately grab my phone and text him a quick hello, then program his name into my contacts, a little thrill shooting through me at this new connection.
After retrieving the blanket—which smells so much like Lennox it makes my knees feel wobbly—and the coffee he brought over, I settle on the sofa and turn on Netflix.
There has to be something mind-numbing and ridiculous to get my mind off of the man. I pick a romcom I’ve seen a hundred times that will not require me to work too hard because honestly, my mind is pretty preoccupied at the moment.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about how much I’m starting to like it here.
The scenery. The entire Hawthorne family.
Lennox.
There are still worries hovering at the back of my mind. The uncertainty about my future and whether I see myself working in catering—in culinary anything—long term. My relationship with my father. Whether I could truly leave California for good.
But just for a moment, I let my worries go and allow my thoughts to unspool unchecked.
Maybe . . . I don’t care if I’m a good enough chef to have my own TV show or run a five-star restaurant.
Maybe it’s fine that my strength is in management instead of innovation.
Maybe I can juststay here,live in this tiny mountain town and be content.
Maybe Hannah Hawthorne is right and what I’m looking for reallyisright under my nose.
Chapter Thirteen
Lennox
My phone rings justafter two a.m., but I’m too sleep-confused to figure out how to answer it. The call ends, but I can’t stop staring at the screen. Why did Tatum call me in the middle of the night? Before I make any progress in sorting things out, she calls me again.
This time, I manage to answer. “Tatum?”
“Hey. Did I wake you?” There’s a slight tremor in her voice that immediately starts my heart pounding.
“That’s a stupid question. I did, didn’t I?” she says.
