I stepped barefoot into the moonlight, he smiled up at me.
“Either this is the reenactment of Romeo and Juliet or you’re Rapunzel.”
Despite my depressed mood, I smiled.
“Come on down?” he asked.
Even from this distance, I could see that his eyes were bright and warm.
Against my better judgment, I decided to cry on his shoulder. “I’ll be there in a few.”
Nick met me at the kitchen door, which gave a soft beep when I opened it.
Elvis strained against the leash, looking for me to pet his ears, which I did, loving the feel of his soft fur against my fingertips.
“Missed you,” Nick said.
Hearing that only depressed me more. “It’s only been one day.”
“Two,” he corrected. “I didn’t see you Sunday, and not Monday, either.”
It was barely past midnight. “You’re not breaking your appointment later today, are you?”
“No. I made a promise and I intend to keep it. Let’s sit on the porch.”
I followed him around the veranda, to where Jo Marie had set up the chairs and a loveseat. Nick took the loveseat, which was a bit farther down from the two chairs, and motioned for me to join him.
I hesitated and then took a seat next to him. Right away he looped his arm around my shoulders. With everything that was buzzing around in my head, I held myself stiff. I didn’t want him to touch me and at the same I craved it, needed it.
“Okay, what’s got you all wadded up in a tight ball?”
I was surprised he’d noticed.
“I meant what I said, you know. I’m looking to make you my girl.”
“Nick, don’t, please, you don’t know me.”
“I know enough.”
That was doubtful. “Okay, what do you know about me?” We’d had several long conversations over the last couple weeks, and I expected him to parrot back our discussions. We’d shared childhood stories and the like, talked about friends, books, and politics, and surprisingly we often agreed.
“Well, for one thing, you get these three tiny lines between your eyes when you’re worried.” He pressed his index finger against the bridge of my nose. “They’re there now so I know you’ve got something weighing on your mind.”
“I do?” I raised my hand to the bridge of my nose to investigate.
“Yup, and when you’re nervous or agitated you tend to tap your right foot.”
“I do not.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve seen you do it a dozen times. Bet you didn’t even know you’re doing it. And something else, you have a rotten sense of direction.”
My jaw dropped. What he said was true, but it wasn’t like I’d been navigating for him. “How do you know that?”
He grinned and leaned forward to press a kiss on the top of my head. “Been watching you run for a while. The first few times you got to the end of the block and stopped as if trying to remember which way back to the inn. And twice that I know of you’ve gone the wrong direction.”
I had gotten lost the first couple times I’d run down Bethel at a fork in the road.
“Need me to tell you more?” he asking, looking quite pleased with himself. “Like the fact that you lick your bottom lip when you’re anxious.”
“No.” He did know me in ways I barely knew myself, and that surprised me. Nick surprised me. I wasn’t sure I knew him as well or in quite the same way.
“I can tell you who your best friend was in grade school, too,” he added, looking quite pleased with himself.
“No, you can’t.” I didn’t ever remember mentioning Carol. She’d moved to St. Louis when we were high school sophomores. We’d kept in touch all through our teens and into early adulthood, but over the last few years we’d drifted apart. These days our friendship had boiled down to a Christmas card exchange. She was married with three kids and we didn’t have a lot in common any longer.
“Carol.”
My eyebrows shot up. “How’d you know that?”
“You told me.”
“Did not,” I protested; I clearly must have mentioned Carol at some point, although I couldn’t remember when.
“Did, too. Now talk to me.”
I tucked my bare feet on the edge of the loveseat and rested my chin on my knees.
He grinned. “You do that, too, when you’d rather not talk.”
“Do what?” I was literally stunned by how much he knew about my quirks and mannerisms already, and apparently there was even more.
“You tuck your feet up and wrap your arms around your knees when you’re looking to avoid discussing something. You turn yourself into a