Page 54 of Dumbstruck
“Good morning,” I murmur, feeling awkward now that I’m not the only one aware of our position. I feel like I should say something, but what? “This is nice.”Probably not that.
He chuckles softly. “For you, maybe. My arm is asleep.”
I deflate. “Oh.” I’ll admit I’m disappointed, but if he doesn’t want me here, I can move.
But he laughs again and wraps his arms more securely around me, pulling me in before I can get up. “Ow,” he says with a groan.
I wince. “Your head?”
“No, my arm. I told you it was asleep. Now I’ve got that pins and needles thing happening and would love for you to distract me. I accept kisses or foot massages.”
Oh, he’s playing a dangerous game here. Face flaming, I do my best to keep my voice steady. “I am not touching your feet.”
“Kisses it is, then.” With impressive skill, he twists me around so I’m facing him and mere centimeters from his mouth. “May I?”
The raspy question mirrors my own desire, and I lean up to meet him, but the trailer door opens before my lips find his, the open doorway filling the space with blinding sunlight.
Shutting his eyes, Jonah groans and drops his head down to my shoulder. “Richie,” he complains. “You have the worst timing.”
“Sorry, Jonah. I thought you would be up by now.”
Squinting in the brightness, I search the trailer for a clock or my phone but come up empty. “What time is it?”
Richie clears his throat, and he looks unsure how to respond to our current entanglement, his eyes darting everywhere but on us. “Uh, almost ten.”
I gasp and sit up. Or, I try to sit up, but Jonah is still holding on to me so I end up tumbling to the floor in a heap, knocking my head when I land.
“Payback for last night,” Jonah says with a laugh, but he’s already on his feet and taking my hands to help me up. “I don’t mean that. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” One hand grazes the now tender spot on my head, while the other presses against my waist.
He’s definitely looking at me differently. He still has the same spark of amusement and lightness that he’s always had, but there’s something warmer in his gaze. Deeper somehow, like before I was only seeing the surface of Jonah James, but at some point he opened a door to his inner workings.
It’s too intense to look at for very long, so I nod and excuse myself to the bathroom to give myself a break.
Snatching a tube of toothpaste from the sink, I use my finger to give my teeth a quick scrub and listen to the low rumble of voices on the other side of the door as Jonah and Richie talk. I’m grateful for this moment to myself, though I don’t think it will do much to help me work through the serious-type feelings that were creeping up when I woke. The big feelings that are going to change my life one way or another.
I’m not sure I can let myself think about the future right now. I’d rather focus on smaller, more palatable problems. We still have a mystery to solve, and this will be the second day in a row that I haven’t opened the store if I don’t head back into town and do my actual job. Heh. My job. For the first time since I bought the hardware store, no part of me wants to be behind the counter while the seconds tick by in silent mediocrity, and that’s a strange feeling in itself.
Thoughts about my dwindling love for the store feel a bit too connected to my growing interest in Jonah, so I force my focus back to the mystery and what I might have figured out last night.
When I exit the bathroom, Jonah takes his turn, leaving me alone in the trailer with Richie. An awkward silence settles over us as we look at each other. He pats a fist against his thigh, and I look at the foil-covered plates that someone must have brought last night and wonder what’s inside, even if it’s far too late to eat any of it. We probably missed breakfast here on set, but I bet Jonah could get someone to cook for us. I wonder if Dexter would go get us something if I asked, though I have no idea if he’s nearby.
Who am I kidding? Neither Richie nor Dexter is ever far from Jonah. Alone time isn’t a real thing for a guy like Jonah, something I need to really consider before I make any plans to leave my life behind for his. If I give this thing between us a shot, that will be my life too.
That’s…not something I can think about right now.
Thankfully, Jonah doesn’t take long and is back at my side, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s the kids,” I say right as he opens his mouth to speak.
He frowns. “What about kids?”
“The saboteurs. It’s a bunch of teenagers.”
Glancing at Richie, Jonah seems to process that for a second before he folds his arms and says, “Explain, please.”
“Phil Collins has a teenage nephew. Herman works at the grocery store. Glen has a daughter in high school who sometimes goes on house calls with him. The eggs, the crane, the car, it all makes sense!”
Though he smiles at me, Jonah still looks fully confused. I don’t blame him, considering I’m apparently too tired to get my thoughts from my head to my mouth. This would be a lot easier to explain if I had—
