Page 39 of Make Mine Sweet
“It’s definitely a rakish look for a man nearing forty.”
“Ouch. Kicking me when I’m down. I’m only thirty-six.” For a few more weeks. “I will takerakish, though.”
In an instant, her face is in her hands, a sweet little groan escaping her. “I’m doing this apology all wrong. I’m so sorry.”
“Please don’t keep apologizing.” I’m not sorry for a moment of this interaction. Pretty sure I’ll be revisiting it for the foreseeable future. But I am sorry for most of the rest of my behavior these past weeks. I haven’t tried to put my best foot forward with her. I haven’ttriedat all. “I’m sorry, too.”
She opens her mouth, and I’ve got a good hunch she’s about to cut me off so she can apologize some more. I wave a hand in the air to stop her. “I haven’t acted like the man you?—”
Deservealmost fell out of my mouth. One sincere apology—and one allusion to rakish pirates—has my imagination running wild like Dutch in the back yard. I need to maintain at least a scrap of perspective about where we really are.
“I haven’t been a very good neighbor,” I tell her. “I’ll do better.”
The relieved smile spreading across her face makes me regret that promise immediately. My thoughts aren’t remotely neighborly when she looks at me this way. They’re fiercely possessive, as though I have any right to her.
Note to self: you do not.
“I’ll do better, too,” she says.
“Unnecessary. You haven’t lost any points in the good neighbor department.”
“I feel like I did. I’ll bring you more cupcakes tomorrow night to make up for—” She waves a hand in the air. “Yesterday.”
Declarations to do better aside, I can’t stop my grimace at the renewed offer of cupcakes of mercy. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Food is my love language.” She briefly closes her eyes, shaking her head. “I didn’t—that came out?—”
This apology has become my favorite thing ever.
When she opens her eyes again, her mouth takes on a stern slant. “I’m doing it because it’s the neighborly thing to do.”
But she cracks a smile like she just won a point over me in a battle I didn’t know we were waging. I do not hate it.
“If I must accept delicious cupcakes, I suppose I can live with it.”
“Do you think we can start fresh?” she asks.
Start over again to create a dynamic where I don’t growl at her and shut her out at every turn? Where I behave more like a man and less like a wounded animal? “I’d like that.”
She manages to grin even brighter. Dipping her head in a determined nod, she holds a hand out to me. “I’m Tess. Your new neighbor.”
I’m about to laugh at her eager introduction, but when my palm slides against hers so warm and perfect, my thoughts take a moment to reboot. Ten seconds ago, I would have said handshakes were nothing special, but this one changes my mind. The soft touch of her hand is like a vise grip on my ribcage. I gently press my thumb against the back of her hand, memorizing the feel of her.
“Tess.” It’s more caress than spoken word, but the best I can do under the circumstances.
If she notices the soft way I said her name, she doesn’t show it. She just keeps on watching me with those blue eyes I want to lose myself in. The handshake goes on a couple of beats past natural before she slips free. I let her go, even though my impulse is to hold tight.
She takes half a step back. “I should check on August and make sure he isn’t getting into the snacks cupboard. Or worse, Sharpies.”
“Probably a good idea.” It isn’t. It’s the worst idea. I want her to stay right here on this porch with me for hours.
Like an absolute lunatic.Calm down, son.
“I like his creativity to stay on paper and not the walls.” Her laughter trails off as she seems to shake herself. Her smile takes on a little more uncertainty, but the outright fear she’d had at the beginning of this conversation is gone.
That’s something. Not nearly enough, but it’s a start.
“Well…I’ll see you, Ian.”
