Page 23 of The Bright Side of Brooding
Chapter Eleven
Nick
In the water where I tread, the mud slipping beneath my feet, it cuts through. The first pale beams press past thin skin stretched over muscle and bone. Rays sear the ragged places, hidden deep. Light singes every dark place in me. I am pulled out to sea, and go under. I am reaching, one cold-hardened hand, back to the surface.
Summer had arm’s length down to a science.
She invited people over, all warm and generous, but didn’t let themin. I wondered if she did that with her friends—she and Ariel seemed to know each other fairly well. But the rest of her guests were forbidden from helping to do anything. I admittedly hadn’t attended all that many dinner parties, but the lack of both socializing post-mealandnot letting people even help clear the table struck me as odd.
Not unlike the woman herself. She was charming and warm, but this little scene in the kitchen? Definitely stubborn, pushy, almost irritable with me. Granted, I’d surprised her by staying and flouting her instructions.
But when it came down to it, she’d let me stay. More than a little pleasure snaked through me with that victory. I scrubbed the last remaining pot—she’d cleaned like a tornado in here, and there really wasn’t much left by the time I’d returned from dropping Herr Meier back home. I had no plan for how this would go, but I couldn’t pass up a chance to be alone with her and to say thank you for not only this night but also all the other meals she’d given me.
She’d been so friendly and warm with Rob, I’d had to cut down the shoots of jealousy growing with each little joke or story one of them told the other. They were friends, but tonight I’d wondered if it was more. If the reason Rob hadn’t brought a date was because Summer was his.
I’d walked out with him, wandering slowly into the sparkling, snowy night, working to tamp down the riot of disappointment and embarrassment forming a leaden ball in my gut. He reached his car, which he’d parked in my driveway. Before he climbed in, he stopped me.
“Masters.”
I turned back from the steps of my porch.
“You like her.”
My brows rose to ask the question—so?
“I mean, I don’t know if you do, but I wanted to tell you Summer and I are friends. We get along great. We went out, did a few group things last fall, didn’t click like that. Never kissed her or anything. I just thought I’d mention it.”
Snow fell so aggressively that it’d coated his hair and shoulders already. Shoveling would be fun in the morning.
I nodded, and he turned to go.
In my chest, buried at the very center, something unfolded, like a map flattening out from a small rectangle into a plan. I watched him pull onto the road and follow the trail of cautious drivers leaving the cul-de-sac. Instead of harassing Butter by going home and leaving again, I turned and trudged back to Summer’s.
Whether she had any interest in me, I didn’t know. Of course she found me physically attractive on at least some level, though she didn’t look at me quite as much or the same way as other women did. But she seemed persistent enough that she might eventually know me. That stubborn, pushy tenacity might be just what I needed.
What could I offer her? No idea. But I wouldn’t know unless I tried, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I wanted to.
After escorting Herr Meier home, I returned, and now here I stood, rinsing the last pot as she bustled in and out of the kitchen, returning small things to the fridge or counter. Everything in the kitchen was colorful and homey. Her top-of-the-line stainless steel cookware hung from a pot rack above a small kitchen island, all except three enamel Dutch ovens in different sizes—the largest of which I now held.
Finally, the movements I’d become so attuned to—the swish of her black dress, the gentle pat-pat of her silver shoes—came to a halt behind me. I set the pot onto the drying rack, dried my hands on a nearby towel, and turned to find her leaning one hip against the counter and eyeing me, arms crossed.
“Summer,” I said, because she was breathtaking this close, and I couldn’t think of anything else.
“Nick.”
I swallowed down the sound of my name in her mouth. I would’ve asked for seconds if I’d had the words. I certainly couldn’t speak, so I waited.
She huffed. “You’ve done enough. Th-thank you for your help. I’ll find a way to repay you soon.”
Startled by her stilted delivery and her words, I nearly laughed. “Repay me? You hosted the dinner and made all the food. There’s nothing to repay. If anything, I’m still inyourdebt.”
How could she think for a second she owed me for washing one pot?
She opened her mouth like she might argue, then acquiesced. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
I pressed my lips together to stay the smile. She was cute, too, on top of everything else I already liked. “No. I’ll make it okay.”
I moved past her to retrieve my coat, reluctant to leave. Wishing she’d ask me to stay for a drink or… or say anything. But I had no confidence in my ability to suggest it without soundingsuggestive, and we didn’t know each other well enough for her to know I certainly wouldn’t be coming on to her like that. Plus, she’d had the run-in with the idiot at her door not a month ago. She’d need to give me a sign she was interested before I pursued her.
