Page 60 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
In a ridiculously short amount of time, Noah had finagled his way past years of staunch independence. She’d long since convinced herself that human contact wasn’t necessary forsurvival, not even for success. And here he was, ruining the perfectly adequate world she’d built.
Contentment counted. Bliss and joy andhappily ever aftersexisted only in fairy tales. Fairy tales weren’t real. A job that allowed her to work with photography, came with a cot in a temperature-controlled storeroom, and provided enough money for some food when she got hungry had been plenty.
Itisplenty.
She corrected herself and glared at the back of Noah’s head with petulance.
Of course, Noah didn’t notice.
He’d opened the door and stepped aside to usher her into the apartment.
When he flipped a wall switch, a trio of lamps — one on an end table, another on the floor, and the third on a desk — cast a warm glow across the room.
“It’s delightful,” Scarlett whispered.
The adjective had slipped past her lips of its own accord, but truly, there was no other word to describe the space. Fabrics —so many fabrics — of all styles, and every texture, and in a myriad of colors created an aesthetic feast for the eyes. Olive-green velvet covered a small-scale camelback sofa, which a bounty of throw pillows almost hid from view. Some pillows appeared to be vintage antiques in silk damasks, while others boasted natural fibers used in mid-century modern decor. Stillothers would’ve been at home in a 1980s Laura Ashley floral bedding set, complete with frilly ruffles and plenty of eyelet trim. The pleated drapes sported a modern geometric print; cornice boards covered in an elegant chinoiserie chintz hung above them. Stacks of books of varying heights teetered on the floor surrounding a wingback recliner of minimal proportions, upholstered in striped ticking the color of weathered terracotta.
For a rather small space, there was a lot to see.
It should’ve felt crowded and overwhelming, but the vibrant prints worked together.
Scarlett had spent over a year working as a low-level gopher in a high-end decorator’s showroom before finding the photography shop in Dallas. While working in the custom furniture business, she’d learned more than she’d ever hoped to know about interior design, including what the rules allowed when it came to fabric pairing. Maree had disobeyed more than a few accepted practices. The result was stunning.
“I can’t live here,” Scarlett blurted out, turning to Noah in alarm before scrambling for the door.
With one smooth step, he slid in front of her.
She stopped in her tracks and felt the terror of a caged animal.
Again, she was not distressed by Noah’s size or strength, not even by his proximity — which was close.Veryclose.
The thought of living in a house — even a tiny apartment — so homey, so curated, soperfectterrified Scarlett.
“It’s just a room with four walls,” Noah coaxed, rubbing her arms from shoulder to elbow.
“It’s a cozy, proper room with a million dollars’ worth of exquisite fabrics, probably hand-selected furnishing, obviously treasured and adored by the owner. I bet the bedroom and bathroom are just as bad.”
“Well, theyarerather small, but notbad, per se,” Noah allowed, teasing her.
“It’s not funny.” Scarlett stomped a foot and folded her arms. As quickly as she’d assumed the defiant posture, her sails lost their steam. “I don’t belong here,” she confided in a soft voice.
“Because you think it’s too nice? Maree invited you; she wants you here, and she wants you to enjoy being here.”
“Because it’s herhome,” Scarlett argued.
“Her home is with Rhys,” he said. “And if you think this is wild, just wait ’til you seethathouse.”
“It’s not wild,” she said, looking down and shuffling her feet. “It’swonderful.”
“And that’s why you don’t belong.”
“Exactly!” Her head lifted in an instant, her eyes boring into his as she pounced on his statement.
“Because it’s a real home,” he clarified.
“You said it,” Scarlett agreed, lifting a rebellious eyebrow. “I’ve been a street urchin most of my life. I lived in the back of a camera shop; my bed was a rickety cot in a closet. I don’t belong in a place like this.”
“This apartment, this new job, or this town?”
