Page 6 of A Lonely Road
When Mr. Jenkins told me about his plan to rent out the garage apartment to this woman, he was uncharacteristically vague about where she was from or how she’d happened across his tiny little ad in the local paper. The old man had left town that morning with nothing more than a gentle reminder to me about watering his plants and keeping an eye on his new tenant.
Jenkins had lived in Spruce Hill his entire life—he only rarely ventured outside the town limits, at least that was the case until he’d planned this sabbatical. He was the sort to trust everyone to uphold the same small town values he had lived with for eighty-some years.
I’d been raised in a big city and knew better than to take anyone at face value, especially a beautiful woman who could scarcely bring herself to shake my hand.
A ripple of regret worked its way through me. It was impossible to miss her chilly reaction that first day, but I hoped her return to The Mermaid meant she might warm up to the idea of becoming friendly, at least. My own neighbor feeling the need to avoid me ruffled my feathers enough that I decided I’d simply make it impossible for her to hate me.
I wouldn’t be pushy or obnoxious about it, just . . . patient. It had always been my strength.
As I tried not to stare toward her booth, I thought back to our meeting in the driveway. When she first walked up, I’d assumed she was young, maybe mid-twenties, but the way she handled herself changed my mind. By the end of the conversation, I guessed her to be in her early thirties.
With her chestnut hair thrown up in a curly ponytail that day, she’d looked very much the classic girl next door, fresh-faced and pretty, with eyes the color of rich, dark chocolate. She was delightfully curvaceous, which made for a beautiful contradiction—all that glorious softness against the thorny shields she kept in place.
A pretty woman with secrets. Right up my alley, if she weren’t so obviously disinterested. That was a crying shame, but I wouldn’t pressure her. That flash in her eyes when I mentioned Mr. Jenkins asking me to keep an eye on her was particularly telling.
Nora Cassidy was definitely not a damsel in distress. More like a warrior, maybe.
While she’d seemed terribly shy at first, nervous about even greeting me, it was clear there was fire underneath. That was what drew me like a moth to a flame. Above all else, I wondered what the real Nora was like when that fire erupted and burned away the thorns.
It would be incredible to witness, that much I was sure of.
With a glance to confirm she was still tucked away in the corner booth, I considered a number of possible backgrounds for the woman next door. These ranged from innocuous to fantastical, and I stared sightlessly down at my ledgers as I weighed the options.
Fleeing from a jilted ex-lover? Wanted for a crime? Hiding from the mob? None of it seemed to fit, but was the truth more complicated or simply more mundane?
Even from our brief interaction, I got the distinct sense that she was trying to mask her emotions but hadn’t quite perfected the technique, that she wanted to remain aloof but also craved conversation and connection. Her spark of interest in my work on the apartment had been an enticing glimpse behind the veil—the sudden light in her eyes and color in her cheeks,the unguarded praise. The same thing happened when I asked about her job. It gave me hope that I just might be able to learn more about her.
With time, anyway. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Once Joanna left Nora’s table to take her order to the kitchen, I sauntered over to the booth as casually as possible.
“Hey, neighbor,” I said, keeping my tone intentionally light.
This woman still seemed as likely to spook and run away from me as to smile or wave, so I forced myself to play it cool. I could have sworn I saw real pleasure in her dark eyes when she thanked me for my dessert offering the other night, even if the expression was fleeting. To me, that was as good a sign as any that there might be a thaw in the future.
The smile that flitted across her face now was tiny, but it was definitely a degree or two less guarded than last time.
“Hi, Jake,” she replied.
I nodded toward her bag. “Did you come in here to work again? Isn’t it a bit loud for that?”
“I like the noise, actually. For some reason, it helps me to be more productive than when it’s too quiet. It keeps me from overthinking things. Like white noise, I guess.” A faint, alluring blush rose in her cheeks, but her dark eyes shot to my face with sudden concern. “Is that okay? I know I’m taking up a table for longer than I would need it just to eat. I’m sure I can find somewhere else in town to work.”
I held up my hands in a gesture of peace. Nora’s gaze caught on them for an instant, so quickly I almost missed it, then she forced her eyes back to my face as I grinned.
“Easy. Of course you can work in here. If you want to let me know when you’re coming in, I can even have the hostess keep this spot free, if you like it. We don’t fill up completely too often and this booth is not generally a favorite—too loud, too close to the bar. If that’s what you like, though, it works out on both sides. And hell, please don’t feel like you have to order anything just to sit here and work. It’s the least I can do for a neighbor.”
Her expression changed instantaneously as a full, radiant smile lit her features, taking her from pretty to stunning so fast that my heart tripped a little.
“If you’re sure,” she said, “but please promise you’ll just say the word if you need the space. I really don’t want to take advantage.”
You can take advantage any time.
The thought coursed swiftly through my brain, but I caught myself before voicing the sentiment. Every moment in this bewitching woman’s presence was like a test of my wits, a challenge to balance my interest in her with keeping myself from saying anything stupid that might scare her away.
“Deal,” I replied instead, offering her my hand to shake on it. I pretended not to see Nora’s fingers curl into a fist before she forced them open and shook my hand. She drew hers back quickly, but before she could open her mouth to speak, I tookthe hint and said, “I’ll leave you to your work, then. Let me know if you need anything.”
I carried the ledger back to the office behind the bar, since the dinner crowd would be filtering in soon. Once I was seated at my desk, though, I couldn’t focus on the numbers in front of me. Instead, I laced my hands behind my head and leaned back in the chair, summoning up a perfect image of the fascinating Nora Cassidy.
