Page 49 of Pretty Relentless

Grabbing the bottle of white wine and small gift I found at Jeb’s, I shut my door and head her way. “Hi.”

She flashes me a shy grin and slowly makes her way down her front steps. “Hello. Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” I meet her on the sidewalk and add, “You look gorgeous.”

Her red hair is down, hanging loosely beneath a warm stocking cap, and her eyes are a bit darker with makeup. She’s wearing jeans, a somewhat rarity, and a long sweater that hits just below the bottom of her coat. Her cheeks are already rosy, after only a few moments outside, and her brown eyes sparkle under the late afternoon sky.

She’s simply breathtaking. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

“Thank you,” she murmurs gently, pushing a strand of hair off her shoulder.

“This is for you,” I tell her, holding out my hand and earning the chuckle I was hoping for. “I know it might be silly, but I’ve already given you flowers this week, and not that you don’t deserve flowers twice, because really, you deserve them every day, but I thought I’d think outside the box.”

Take a breath, you goon.

She smiles widely, palming the candy bar. “You remembered.”

I’d do anything to keep seeing that smile on her face. “Of course I remembered. You said they were your favorite,” I reply, speaking of the Twix bar in her gloved hand.

She gazes up at me beneath her lashes. “And yours is a Reese’s. Cup, not Pieces.”

“Why would they even make those little things?”

She shrugs, still holding the candy bar. “Possibly to compete with M&M’s.”

I give her a nod. “Makes sense.” I look up at her roof. Even though I’d much rather stare at her for the next few hours, I’m here for a reason, so we might as well get the first part out of the way. “Shall we take a look around?”

“Yes,” she says, falling in beside me as we make our way up on the porch first. I set the bottle of wine down on the steps so I don’t have to carry it, and Ava slips the candy bar into her coat pocket.

I go through everything we did, and even though I’m certain she doesn’t know some of the terminology, she nods in understanding. As we step off the porch and into the snow-covered yard, I offer her my elbow. Yes, to be gentlemanly and try to offer her stability, but also because I flat-out like the way my body feels when she’s pressed against it. Her fingers, albeit being covered in warm material, are wrapped around my arm, and it only takes a few moments before the heat of her touch seeps through the layers between us.

“All right,” I start, after going over a few details of her new roof, “Tell me the truth. What do you think of the metal?”

She looks up at it and grins. “I like it. I wasn’t sure until I came home last night and saw the completed product. Okay, that’s not true. It was starting to get dark, and I wasn’t able to see it properly until this morning, but when I got a clear view in thedaylight, I realized I didn’t mind it at all. Yes, it’s shiny, but the charcoal coloring fits the house. Even my dad likes it.”

“I’m glad. And I do appreciate praise from Jude Rutledge.”

“He’s always singing your praises,” she tells me as we start to make our way to the front porch once more. “He insisted I call you after my porch fell. He said you’re the best.”

I grab the bottle of wine I had set down earlier and we move inside her house. Even though I’ve been here before, I take in the living room with fresh eyes. It’s warm and comfortable, with throw blankets and books. There’re a few pictures I missed the first time around, some of the faces I recognize. Her sister and her family pose in one of the photographs and Ava with her grandma are in another. There’s a group shot of her entire family together and what looks like a kid’s birthday party, and an anniversary photo of her parents.

“I know I said this before, but you have a great home,” I tell her, slipping off my coat.

“Thank you. My dad and I have put a lot of work into it, and I love it. Can I get you something to drink?” she offers when her coat is hanging in the front closet beside mine. We both carry our boots into the small mudroom that leads to the garage, placing them on the boot mats she has to catch the melting snow.

“May I open the bottle of wine?” I suggest.

“Please.” She retrieves a bottle opener from the drawer and hands it over. Our fingers graze and that now-familiar spark of electricity zings through me.

“I’m not sure how good this’ll be. There weren’t too many options available at Jeb’s,” I tell her, popping the old cork. I stopped at the gas station and browsed his small selection of bottled alcohol, settling on this sweet white wine with a name I couldn’t pronounce.

“I’ve never bought wine from his place.”

My conversation with my mom flashes through my mind. “Well, I was planning to get it at the grocery store, but there was some Nosy Nellys watching, so I just decided to skip it. No reason to give them something to wonder about,” I tell her, even though my mom is probably at home, doing just that.

Wondering.

There’s gratitude in her brown eyes. I know she has a fear of being talked about in a negative light, so if I can help keep that worry from bothering her, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.

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