Page 87 of Here & There

Except I can’t.

“Yeah,” I say. I don’t look too closely at her. “Is this enough for today?”

Concern crosses her face. But then she tips her head back onto the chair. “Yes. You’re right. We’ll do better if we digest what we’ve done so far.”

I let out a breath, relieved. Even though I loosened my tie, I feel a bit like I can’t get enough air.

When I inhale again, I get a lungful of her scent—this citrusy shampoo she uses that lingers in the bathroom after she’s had a shower and the indefinable soft scent ofherthat hangs everywhere else. It’s too much.

Shelby tips her face over to me. “Thank you.”

I lean forward, elbows on knees. “Why are you thanking me? This was all you.”

“Because I missed this.”

And that’s what gets me. Because that’s what I saw today—Shelby in her element was her doing her job. The one she left behind in Vancouver.

It’s all a reminder that she’s only here temporarily. She may have broken up with that boyfriend—which, frankly, made me really fucking happy when she did it—but she’s not sticking around.

Still, it would be rude not to turn around and acknowledge what she said. So I force myself to sit back in my chair.

Her smile is so beautiful it hurts.

“You missed the mad scientist thing you do with a whiteboard?”

Shelby laughs softly, and it makes me keep looking at her, even though it physically pains me to do so.

“Yeah, actually,” she says. “I just don’t get to do this fun part much anymore.”

“I’m glad to be of service, then.”

Her expression reminds me of that night by the fire last week, when she was so comfortable she just curled up in that chair, the glow of the flames seeming to radiate off her and not the fire.

I don’t realize I’m staring until Shelby’s smile falls slightly, the dark edges of her irises seeming to deepen as her eyes stay locked to mine. The chair I’m in feels suddenly too small. This whole room feels too small. I feel like we’re stuffed together too close and I’m going to make a mistake.

I’m falling for her, and she’s going to leave.

“Mac,” she says.

“Yeah,” I rasp.

A strand of hair has fallen over her cheek, and before I know what I’m doing, I reach out and tuck it back behind her ear. My hand lingers there a moment too long.

Don’t do it, Mac. Don’t fuckin’ do it.

“I stopped by the inn yesterday.”

My hand drops. Just like my stomach.

Shit.

“Yeah?”

“Diane said the plumbing problem…it was a clogged pipe in one of the rooms.”

I run my hand over my hair, forgetting I combed it and put that shit on it. “That right?”

“You told me you talked to Ben, that he said it was a big problem. That it would take a week or more to fix.”

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