Page 32 of Once Smitten, Twice Shy

“Juliet,” Will growls soft and low in his throat. “I meant thephone.”

Sensing he just might be at the end of his rope and knowing this whole ridiculous situation is my doing, I reach back into his pocket and pull out his phone, which is lighting up with another call. At least this time, it’s only buzzing.

I tap the button on the side to silence it, and my gaze catches on the screen—an up-close portrait of a woman who looks to be in her fifties, maybe sixties, her upswept strawberry-blond hair streaked with white, big amber eyes crinkled with deep laugh lines as she smiles at the camera.Mait says across the top.

“Your mom’s so pretty,” I whisper.

Will sighs. “She’s pretty, all right. Pretty damn persistent.”

Suddenly Kate’s and Christopher’s voices turn louder. I hear the familiar stomp of Kate’s Doc Martens, Christopher’s long, heavy strides landing beside hers.

I set a finger to my mouth and stare up pleadingly at Will. He doesn’t respond, just gazes down at me wearily.

Finally, their voices pass us; the sound of their footsteps fades.

I blow out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and scramble upright clumsily. I’m too desperate to put distance between us to care that I look as unsteady as I feel.

Will jumps up gracefully after me, just how he did at the greenhouse last week, like a big jungle cat, smooth and powerful. The total opposite of my ungainly effort. I’d be irritated if I didn’t find it so hot.

We stare at each other for a beat, breathing a little heavily. I flash him a smile that I hope turns that frown upside down.

It doesn’t.

“That was an adventure,” I tell him.

Will straightens to his full height and glances over the hedges. “They’re gone.”

“Thank goodness.” I shove through the hedges, brushing leaves and dirt off my dress. “Sorry about that. I know it was less than ideal.”

Will tugs a leaf out of his beard, eyebrows arched high. “Less than ideal?”

“Okay, it was a shit show,” I admit. “I’m sorry, I panicked. I didn’t want them to see us when the only explanation for us being together is something we both agreed we’re going to keep to ourselves.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Will peers down at me and lets out a heavy sigh. “I understand.”

My anxiety drains fifty percent. “You do?”

“I didn’t like that we had to hide, but I understand.” He drops his arms. “We’ve got to figure out how to be honest without telling the whole truth. Then, if this happens again, we’ll be prepared.”

I nod. “You’re right.”

Will squints up at the sky, brow furrowed, as he slides his hands into his pockets. “I told Petruchio I’ll be coming into town on weekends this month, dropping in on bars and restaurants thatstock our whiskey to drop off samples and pitch a new fifteen-year we’re rolling out. So I have an explanation for being here.”

My eyes widen. “Wow, that’s a good explanation.”

“It’s also the truth,” he says.

“Even better.” I smile. “Do you normally do that?”

“Nah. I do best staying put at home, keeping things running there.” He swats away a bee that’s started circling his head. “My sister Immy, it’s her gig, but she’s as sick as a dog right now. First pregnancy, first trimester. She needed a break. I figured I could take a turn and handle it for a while, even if I’m shit at it compared to her.”

My heart pirouettes in my chest as I stare at him. First his niece and the orange shirt. Now this. He talks about these choices he makes out of care and love for his family so matter-of-factly, like it’s that simple, like doing for others, even when it’s outside his comfort zone, is just what’s done.

Will catches me staring at him.

I clutch my forearm and wave that arm’s hand.

He frowns, clearly confused.

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