Page 58 of Strung Along

He nods curtly before swinging back onto Kip’s back and saying, “Was nice to meet you, Anna. Hope to see you around here a bit more.”

There’s a double meaning there, and I don’t miss it.

He hopes to see us both around here a bit more.

23

ANNALISE

Brody is goingto give me whiplash.

At this point, I’m considering buying him a thermometer for Christmas so I’ll be able to tell in advance whether he’s planning on being hot or cold.

One moment, I’m hoping my breath doesn’t stink because I’m sure he’s going to kiss me, and the next, he’s putting so much distance between us that it’s a wonder I can hear him speak over it. It makes it worse that I’m pretty sure I know what’s creating these sudden changes in him.

Either he’s constantly reminding himself that we’re doomed if we wind up falling for one another, or he’s just genuinely a misleading tool. I’d say it’s option number one, but with my history with men, maybe he’ll wind up disappointing me in the worst way.

If I’m right, though, I need to do something about it. I refuse to be the woman I was with Stewart. I’m not going to let opportunities pass me by because I’m scared of getting hurt or hiding behind the glamour of safety.

Because that’s what it was with Stewart. Safe. We became something comfortable. A relationship I thought was sturdy enough to carry me forever and not one that made my heart joltor my stomach fill with butterflies. I don’t ever want to go back to that life.

I want banter and new adventures and thoughtful gestures that have my cheeks burning from smiling. Even if it’s temporary, Brody gives me those things. I’d like to think that I give him those things too.

There’s no timeline for someone to get over a heartbreak, but I’d like to think I’ve done pretty alright so far, even if it’s only been a couple of months. My healing has been slow and steady, and I’ve learned more about myself than I have in the last decade. I don’t think that growth is going to stop here either. My future is too bright for that. Wanting to see where this connection with Brody takes me doesn’t seem like such a bad idea.

The heat from the palm pressed to my back as we step into the house has me even more confident that I’m right where I want to be.

The interior of the farmhouse is almost exactly how I pictured it from the outside. Warm wood floors, bookshelves galore with clutter on every shelf, and mismatched rugs spread throughout the spacious entryway. I’ve never seen so many shoe racks. They’re pushed against every wall, and while they’re fairly bare now, I can only expect that will change come lunchtime. The warm yellow lighting even makes the space feel cozier instead of outdated like it usually would.

Brody shuts the door behind us, hangs his brown hat on a hook on the wall, and then steps up to linger at my back. His body heat slams into me. I ache to lean into it and dare him to pull away again, but on the off chance he doesn’t, I don’t trust what I’d do.

Footsteps carry into the entry from further in the house before a familiar face appears around the corner. Mrs. Steeletakes one look at me and beams. It’s a welcome that I wasn’t expecting but greedily accept.

“Annalise!” she sings, arms already open.

I laugh and step into the embrace. Just like the first time we met, I notice her strength first and then her comforting cinnamon scent. It’s easy to tell that she’s a woman who doesn’t turn up her nose at hard work. To be married to a man like Mr. Steele, that seems about right.

“It’s nice to see you again. I hope I’m not intruding,” I say.

She pulls back but holds me at arm’s length, taking me in from head to toe. “Never! I saw you speaking to my husband from the front window and was just twiddling my thumbs impatiently, waiting to greet you properly.”

“By saw us, you mean that you were spying,” Brody pipes up.

His grandmother releases me just long enough to wave him off. “Let me get you in a proper pair of boots and a new jacket. We can’t risk you ruining your perfectly nice things out there. What size are your feet?”

“I was already planning on getting her those things, Grams,” Brody says.

“What you should have done was taken her out this morning and bought her her own pair of boots,” she sasses.

I swallow a laugh at the ease with which she scolds him. “I don’t think I’d get enough use out of a pair of my own.”

She gapes at me, offended. “Nonsense.” Flitting her eyes to her grandson, she adds, “Tell me she’ll be here often. Don’t you tease me, boy.”

“Don’t look at me. It’s Anna you should be threatening.” Brody’s fingers slip beneath the bottom hem of my jacket, tracing the waistband of my leggings. The shiver that racks through me is immediate, and one sneaking glance up at him exposes his smirk.

I try to shove the touch to the back of my mind and focus on Mrs. Steele. Watching the space between Brody and me like a hawk, that woman nearly splits her cheeks with a smile.

“Something tells me I shouldn’t worry. You’ll be back, my sweet. But let’s worry about right now. Boots!” she exclaims before dashing toward the double doors belonging to the entryway closet.

---