Page 27 of Those Who Are Bound

They finished their meal, the topic turning more local. Although Elliott had been to the area’s ski and tubing resort, she’d never stopped in town before. Jonah filled her in on the underground Irish pub and the annual fall festivals the town was known for: IrishFest and AppleFest. He told her about the various wineries in the area—everyone already knew about the famous vodka distillery—they’d passed it on the way into town.

As they exited, Elliott’s gaze swept the length of the street again, and then she made an irritated sound. “Really, people?” She marched off down the sidewalk, her target a crushed water bottle wedged against the exterior of a storefront.

Elliott scooped it up and called back to him, “What is wrong with people? Walking to the trash can five feet away is too much of a trek?” With that, she walked across the sidewalk to slam the container into the trash.“They ought to have a recycling bin.”

Jonah dramatically slapped his hand over his heart. “I think I’m officially in love.”

Elliott laughed at him. “If that’s what it does for you, let me caution you away from K-7 on Saturday afternoons when community service is clearing the highway of litter; you’ll have your heart broken.”

Their ride back was punctuated by moments of nervous silence; nervous for Elliott, not Jonah. She doubted anything rocked his confidence. His conversation was as easy as ever, but in her head, she kept playing over the items she had glimpsed in his trunk. As they neared Easy Street, her doubts and insecurities started plaguing her.

First dates for her ended in bed. All of them. Longevity was her problem—or theirs. Ultimately, after the initial thrill she provided—usually because it was something taboo the men had never experienced before—they bounced, turning on her. And then, after Gage, she avoided men altogether. She knew it was more to punish herself than anything; her penance.

Until Jonah. It had been surreal yesterday when he’d asked her, and she’d accepted. His openness, his frankness—and yes, his appeal—it had taken her off guard.Her mind hadn’t been able to completely process his advance—she didn’t want to admit that she should probably say no. Well, that, and she couldn’t stop looking at him even when she’d thought he was Lucy’s boyfriend.

Looking over at him, she couldn’t see him pulling up to her house and expecting sex at ten-thirty in the morning. Nothing about him screamed expectation for her to put out. Not that she’d deny him, or herself. But it would feel…

Cyclical.

Breaking off his monologue about rafting, catching her look, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Sure. Fine.” She turned her head away, having been caught.

“You look concerned. And not about rapids.”

“No concerns,” she said, lying. She didn’t want him to be gone by the end of the week. Didn’t want to see the disbelief in his eyes, to see the judgment and repulsion.

He was quiet for a minute, and then said, “I don’t want to have to call you out on that, but I want to be honest with you. If you have any concerns about me, voice them now. My expectation is that today is a first of many for us, so if there’s anything—”

“No,” she interrupted, looking at him again. “Not about you. It’s me. Every woman has self-doubt. We’re either engineered or trained up that way. I had a moment.”

The aviators turned directly toward her. “You’re sure?”

“Double-check with Lucy; she’ll back me on that.”

Jonah faced forward again, not looking like he bought it, but he said, “Don’t doubt yourself.”

Elliott almost snorted. Easy for him to say.

Back at Easy Street, he pulled up to her house, angling his Jeep so her door was near her stairs. Pushing past her awkwardness, she grabbed her backpack from the floorboard and took out her keys, then held up the coffee. “There’s some left.”

“All yours,” he assured her, opening his door.

Her mind tried to process his intentions: he’d turned the car off, so he wasn’t just dropping her off. He was getting out of the car. What did this mean? What was she supposed to do? Items in hand, she also got out. Without looking at him, knowing that he was walking around the Jeep toward her, she set the items on one of the steps, house keys gripped in her palm.

Jonah stopped in front of her, his hands in his pockets, his sunglasses pushed up to rest in his black hair. “Thank you again for this morning.”

Elliott was trying madly to read his body language. He was relaxed, not appearing to be in a rush to go or to head upstairs. Hands in pockets—no reaching over for a kiss.

I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

“No, thankyou; coffee, hike, breakfast. You know how to turn a girl’s head, Mr. Montgomery.”…And how to leave her utterly confused.

On a low, self-deprecating chuckle that had him briefly contemplating the pavement, he said, “So formal, Miss Rork.” It was what she’d said to him yesterday. He looked back up, pinning her to the spot. “Text me your number?”

The request startled her. They’d spent some time together and hadn’t bothered exchanging information. Hesitantly, taking a step back and bracing her hand on the wooden balustrade that led upward, her invitation clear, she asked, “Or… you can come up?”

And she wanted him to, she realized. She wanted to know what it would feel like to have him cover her, his weight pressing her down, pressing into her. As her desire escalated with the thought of it, her logic stepped aside. That’s how it went with her.

---