Page 12 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He peers my way. “I probably weirded you out, back in Scotland, when I walked up to you out of nowhere and nonverbally asked for a dance. I’d give me a not-real name, too.”

I swing back, then drift forward, a bit bolder in my swinging now that I’ve drained half my coffee. “You didn’t weird me out.”

“But it was awkward.” He glances my way, his brow drawn tight. “Iwas awkward.”

“I mean, it was a smidge awkward, yes. All first meetings are, at least a little. And sure, you could have thrown a few more words my way at first, but…” My stomach swoops as I remember him stepping closer to me, his touch warm and gentle, his gorgeous, intense gaze dancing over me as we swayed to the music. How tenderly he held me, how he told me when I was rambling that helikedhow much I talk.

Will might have been awkward that night, but he didn’t let that keep him from trying, from coming up to me, asking me to dance in his own sweet way. Back at that pub, he was something I wasn’t ready to be.

He was brave.

And now, finally, I’m ready to be brave, too.

Inside me, something like a door that’s been locked swings open, and out rushes what at first I think is a sliver of the old Juliet. But no, it’s not that simple. It’s not who I used to be, showing up again. It’s who I’ve beenbecoming, finally showing her face. Someone who’s been hurt and who’s healed. Someone who still wants to hope, even knowing it could get her hurt again. Someone who can go through hard shit and survive it, maybe a little roughed up, a bit battered and scarred, but also braver and stronger.

And that’s when I see it.Thisis that first move I’ve been waiting for, the first grinding shift into a new gear for my idling-engine life: once again wrapping my arms around the part of myself that desires and delights in others and has no qualms about telling them how much, that has fun flirting and savors time spent with someone she’s attracted to. I’m not ready for romantic love, to hand someone my heart again, but I am ready for this. And that’s okay. This is enough, this first step.

“You weren’t the reason I told you my name was Viola and then left the pub so abruptly. I did it because I was in a bad place and I was being self-protective. You were painfully cute, and I wasattracted to you, and I knew I wasn’t in any place to handle that. Any other season of my adult life, you bet your butt I would have thrown myself at you.”

He falters on the swing and barely avoids slopping coffee all over his jeans, holding it away from him. Dark liquid sloshes over the edge of his mug onto the grass. He looks like I’ve stunned him. “What?”

I roll my eyes as I sip my coffee. “Please, don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot. You’ve got the strong and silent, gentle giant thing going for you, and I’d bet my right leg—which is my better one—that you’re more than aware of it.”

Will blinks at me, looking genuinely shocked. “I…” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, you think the fact that I—how I acted, I mean…” He clears his throat. “You didn’t think I was…weird?”

I smile at him, tipping my head as I take him in. It’s ridiculously cute, him sidestepping entirely the question of how aware he is that he’s a hottie. Which means he knows he’s a hottie, and he’s too humble to admit it. Swoon.

“I didn’t say that,” I tell him. “You were definitely weird. I said you didn’t weird me out.”

He groans, hanging his head. “I knew it.”

I reach my toe out and poke his hip. “Ilikeweird. The world needs more weirdos.”

Will stares down at his coffee. A gust of air leaves him, an empty laugh. “Not in my world, it doesn’t.”

“What world is that?”

“It’s…” He’s silent for a beat, his eyes still fixed on his coffee mug. He sighs heavily. His throat works in a swallow.

I let my swing twirl so that I’m facing forward. Maybe it’ll help if he doesn’t feel like I’m staring him down, waiting for him to talk.

Tipping back my mug, I drain the last of my coffee and set it beside me in the grass. Then I push back on the swing in earnest.

Will’s gaze tracks me as I sway forward on the swing, then drift backward, the wind whipping my hair. He lifts his mug to his mouth and tips it back, his eyes holding me as he does.

I watch him rest his mug beside him in the grass, like I did, settle straight on the swing, then push off.

“My world is…” he starts, but the swing set groans as he sways forward, cutting him off. Will glances up, frowning. “I’m gonna bust this thing.”

“No way,” I tell him. “That’s the sound it always makes when we use it.”

Will’s got his swings in time with mine already, his ankles crossed as he sways forward, then rushes back. He’s still staring up worriedly at the beam overhead. “If you say so.”

I smile his way. “I promise. It’s fine!”

And that’s when Will’s swing snaps from the beam overhead and drops to the ground.

•Four•

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