Page 20 of Sweet Caroline
But I’d also paused. Sure, it’d be easy to pop by, but how would it look? Like I was just another asshole invading her space? With no other way to get in touch, though, I decided to risk it.
I have to take a huge step backward to avoid getting hit by the gallery door when a stylish older couple suddenly pushes outside. Pulling up short, they quickly swerve around me, throwing me a pair of cautious side-eyes.
They’re not the only ones wondering what I’m doing here.
Stepping inside the bright, open space makes me strangely nervous. I probably shouldn’t have come on my lunch break. I’m definitely not dressed to be in a place like this, in my dusty jeans and hi-vis. Nearly every surface in here is spotless and white, with one weathered brick wall at the back. A quick glance at the price tag next to the nearest painting confirms my suspicion: this little art gallery is bougie as fuck.
I rub my hands on my jeans, feeling like I’m sullying the place just by being here. It doesn’t do much to shift the dirt from my sweaty palms and I make a mental note not to touch anything.
“Hello?” I call out into the empty space, hovering near the front door.
That older couple wouldn’t have left the gallery unattended, would they? I’m pretty sure they’re the owners. I recognized them from the website; their photos were alongside Caroline’s.
“Be right with you!” a familiar voice calls back, and my heart rate ticks up a notch. It goes up another ten when Caroline rounds the corner from the back, stopping short when she sees me. Surprise lights her eyes. “Miles.”
She’s wearing this oversized, cozy turtleneck sweater-dress thing that seems to surround her in a glow of creamy fluff. It’s short—like a miniskirt—and her smooth, bare skin peeks out over thigh-high brown leather boots.
Jesus, those boots.
Her hair is down, glossy blonde ringlets falling around her shoulders.
Stop staring like a dickhead and speak.
“Hey,” is all I can think to say, still trying to process seeing her again, never mind those sexy fucking boots. “Uh, sorry, it’s probably weird of me to just show up here outta nowhere, but I, uh—” I swallow, then breathe through a smile as I try to think of how to explain. Somehow,I saw a rumor we were a couple and then low-key stalked you onlinedoesn’t quite make the cut.
“You saw the article.” It’s not a question.
“I did, yeah. Well,” I hedge, “pretty sure the whole town saw it.”
Caroline lets out a heavy sigh. “I assume the internet filled you in on my family, then?”
“And where you work.” I gesture at the wall of paintings next to where she stands, then rub at the back of my neck. “Didn’t have your number or anything, but I’m working across the street, so I thought I’d, uh…”
Fuck, this is awkward.
She nods slowly as the silence hangs between us. At least she doesn’t seem uncomfortable about me stopping by.
Thank God.
“You wanna come in? You look like you’re about to run away any moment, standing in the doorway like that.”
I laugh, glancing outside. “Not gonna run. Promise.” Taking a few tentative steps forward, I peer around the gallery, stuffing my hands in my pockets as I inspect another painting without really taking it in. “So, you’re some fancy famous girl, huh?”
She lifts her eyes to meet mine. “No, I’m not.”
I tilt my head, giving her a look. “Says the girl getting followed by the paparazzi.”
“Okay, I know, it’s weird. But what am I supposed to do, telleveryone I run into, including some random man I met at the gym, that they might end up being political gossip fodder just for speaking to me in public?”
“I mean…” my lips curl up at the corner, “speaking as the random man in question… that actually might’ve been a helpful heads up.”
“Are you kidding?”
I only shrug.
“Anyway, this whole thing is more about my dad than me. My family’s been under a lot of scrutiny lately. Because of the campaign.”
“So, we stirred up some shit.” I try to look charmingly apologetic, not liking the idea that she might be in hot water because I tried to help her out. “On a scale of one to ten, how much did this fuck up your week?”
