AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 10
Nora
AweeklaterIwas at my desk in my home office when my cell rang. The number that flashed across the screen was vaguely familiar, but since I had spent the last five hours reviewing medical documents and statements for a particularly difficult social security case, my brain was not functional enough to recognize it.
“Hello?” I muttered, my mind still occupied with Mr. Harold Gottmier.
“Nora.”
It was Michael. His rich, deep voice gave me stomach flutters. Since the last time a man had given me butterflies I had been eighteen years old and an absolute idiot, I was tempted to blame the tacos I’d eaten for lunch. It wasn’t butterflies. It was indigestion.
Or maybe the truth was, for the past week, the sound of his voice meant an orgasm was forthcoming. Because for the past week, we had met nearly every morning for a run and a quickie. That was enough to give anyone butterflies.
“Michael…is everything okay with Suzie?” I couldn’t think of another reason he would call instead of text like a decent human being. Everyone knew actual phone calls were reserved for emergencies.
“She’s fine. In fact, she was in a very good mood this morning. I mowed her lawn after Sam went to work, and she brought me lemonade and mentioned your first appointment tomorrow cancelled so you don’t have to work until ten.”
“Um,” I said. Why was Suzie talking about me to Michael? Especially such random, mundane information. What the hell was she up to? Goddammit, Iknewshe wouldn’t be able to stay out of it, even when she didn’t know there was anything to stay out of.
“Have dinner with me tonight,” he said.
My stomach fluttered again. Definitely not the tacos.
But dinner? That wasn’t what we did. Dinner was for couples, or for people who were at least open to the idea of being a couple. I was about as open to that idea as I was to playing whackamole with hornet nests.
“Stop thinking so hard. I can hear your brain smoking,” he said. “It’s just dinner. Come over, I’ll make some food. Bring comfortable clothes, so if you spend the night we can go for a hike before work tomorrow.”
“That’s not dinner. That’s a trap. You can’t spring something like the Widow-Maker on a person. I’m not ready.”
“No, you’re not.” He laughed. “Hart Mountain is a big day. But I have a plan, and I’ll tell you all about it over dinner.”
It was tempting, having someone make me food. I liked to cook, but I hated cooking for one. It seemed like such a waste to make a bunch of dirty dishes I would then have to clean up. But—
“I can’t,” I said. “I can’t leave Brandon alone overnight. I have a neighbor that takes him out during the day when I’m at the office, but I can’t ask her to do that at night. He needs his insulin shot.”
“So bring him. It’s fine.”
“But—”
“See you at seven.” He hung up.
I glared at my phone. That bossy jerk. He had hung up to keep me from saying no. Of course, I could text him. It was one word, two letters. It would only take a second. But then, there would be no food. Or orgasms. And…I wanted to see him. Just dinner. Just sex. I didn’t have to think any deeper than that. He was leaving in November.
I stared at my phone for a moment longer. Not texting.
Then I shoved it in my bag.
Main Street was one of my favorite parts of Hart’s Ridge. The town was founded in 1803, and it still had its old-timey feel. The storefronts were quaint and charming, either brick or wide wooden planks painted deep green or white or yellow. Michael’s studio was located above Nana’s Yarns, owned by a twenty-six-year-old bouncy blonde named Amy, who had named it after her grandmother.
I parked in the lot behind the stores—parking on Main Street proper got you a ticket—and climbed the stairs to his studio with my overnight bag slung on one shoulder, Brandon’s bag over the other, and his leash in my hand. I didn’t have a free hand, so I kicked Michael’s door with three gentle taps of my toe.
The door opened and there he was, barefoot, his red hair rumpled like he had just run his fingers through it, which made me want to try that myself. He was wearing jeans and a black tee, and somehow that very simple outfit was sexy as hell. He looked damn good.
“Hey.” He took my purse and overnight bag, stuffed with a toothbrush, underwear, and hiking clothes, and opened the door wider for me to enter.
The smell hit me right when I walked inside. Dinner was already underway and it smelled delicious. My mouth watered. But first things first. “Do you mind if I get Brandon settled? He needs his insulin and food every twelve hours. His diabetes is easier to control when I stick to the schedule.”
“Yeah, sure thing. Do whatever you need to do.” He dropped my bags on the couch and lowered into a crouch to greet Brandon. “Hey, there, big boy.”
