Page 25 of Long Story Short

Winnie sighs as she sits back in her chair. “It’s not that I’m checking in on you. I just want to make sure you’re enjoying your time here since I’m the one who convinced you to start visiting in the first place.”

I rub my lips together as memories of my dinner with Josie pop into my mind. I really enjoyed my time with her the other night. I enjoyed myself so much that I can’t stop thinking about her, no matter how much I know I probably shouldn’t be. She was clear that she was here in the Hamptons to write and not to get to know her neighbor. That still didn’t stop me from hoping she might change her mind.

“I wouldn’t have bought a house here if I wasn’t enjoying my time. Stop worrying about your older brother and have fun, Win. I promise, I’m fine.”

Winnie narrows her eyes at me and gives me a look that only a sister can. “If you say so. Want to go get a drink with me? Mine’s empty, and I could use a refill.”

I nod and stand up. “I could use another too.” My eyes scan the room once again, hoping maybe I’d see a familiar blonde in the mix of bodies. Josie’s nowhere in sight, so I follow my sister over to the table of champagne flutes and pretend that a woman I just met isn’t the only thing on my mind this evening.

This is probably a bad idea. I don’t know what compelled me to walk over to Josie’s house after getting home from Pembroke’s welcome party, but I find myself staring at her front door, wondering if I should knock or not.

I look down at the small box in my hands before looking back up at the door. Technically, I could just leave it here and hope that she finds it soon.

But I don’t want it to go bad. What if she doesn’t notice it for a while?

I could knock and quickly hand it to her, but what if she’s already asleep? I opted to leave the welcome party rather early, so it isn’t too late, but if she spent all day working, there’s a possibility she’s already in bed.

A loud meowing on the other side of the door makes my eyes go wide.

Mouse.

He meows again, this one louder and more demanding.

I look over my shoulder, wondering if I should just drop the box and leave. The last thing I want is for Josie to find me standing on her porch without knocking or announcing my presence. I don’t want her to think that I’m creepy.

Another loud meow comes from the door, and then, all of a sudden, the door opens slightly.

“See, Mouse, there’s nothing out here…” There’s a pause as Josie’s eyes meet mine. “Tyson?” My name comes out as a question. She blinks and rubs her eyes for a moment before meeting my gaze once again.

I hold the box in one hand and scratch the back of my neck with the other. “Hi,” I mutter, looking down at the ground for a moment as my entire face feels like it’s on fire.

Josie opens the door a fraction of an inch wider, her gaze pinned on me with an unreadable expression. She wears a pair of baby blue shorts and a matching shirt, the outfit looking like a pair of pajamas. “What are you doing here?”

I swallow, wondering what to say. I’ve given her space for a few days now in hopes she’d seek me out to spend some time together, but she never did. My only goal tonight was to drop off the box with her and leave, but now that I’ve been caught creepily standing at her doorstep, I don’t know exactly how to explain myself.

“I, um…” I lift the box in the air to show it off. “I brought you cake.”

FIFTEEN

JOSIE

I blink a few times, wondering if maybe I fell asleep on the couch and I’m dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation for seeing Tyson Bishop standing on my doorstep late at night in a suit and tie.

“You what?” I ask, staring at the box he holds between us.

“I brought cake,” he announces again, his voice no more confident saying it the second time than it was the first.

I take a step closer to him, one of my hands still gripping the door as I stare at him carefully, wondering if I’m dreaming.

Mouse catches my attention for a moment as he lets out an excited meow and ambles over to Tyson’s feet. He weaves his body in between Tyson’s legs, letting out a contented purr in the process.

“You brought…cake?” I repeat slowly, wondering if I’m hearing him correctly.

My eyes meet his as he gives me a sheepish smile. “The other night after dinner, you mentioned how you missed this cake that your grandfather’s chef always prepared for your weekly dinners, and while I was at the welcome party at Pembroke tonight, everyone was raving about how amazing the triple-chocolate cake is. I didn’t want you to miss out on that, so I found a box and brought some back for you in case you wanted to try.”

My stomach muscles tighten at the same moment my lips part. For a few moments, I don’t say anything. I’m too busy processing what he said to even think of a response. It might be silly, but I barely remember mentioning anything about cake to him. It was something we briefly discussed over dinner the other night. Not only did he remember, but this man, who is barely more than a stranger to me, went out of his way to bring me the cake.

“Tyson.” His name comes out barely above a whisper. “That was so thoughtful of you.”