Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 103119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Ms. Hume’s head popped up from behind the reception desk, her slender, deep-brown fingers pausing on the keys. She removed her glasses, letting them drop to where they were caught by a long, beaded necklace, and stood. “Hallie Welch. Rebecca told me you would show up sooner or later,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you here to apply for a library card or finally fix our garden?”
Hallie took a moment to reconnect with her grandmother. Like a whispered hello from somewhere beyond. Then she centered herself and approached the desk. “Maybe both. You wouldn’t happen to have any self-help books on staying organized, would you?”
“I’m sure I can pull a few.”
“They’re for a friend, obviously,” Hallie joked, matching the librarian’s knowing smile. “As for the garden . . . yes, I’m ready. I thought we could discuss layout today and I could get started soon.”
Ms. Hume arched an eyebrow. “When exactly?”
“Soon,” Hallie said firmly, in that moment accepting that there were some things about her she could never change.
And that . . . maybe she didn’t need to.
Chapter Sixteen
The familiar rumble of Hallie’s truck grew louder as it made its way down the driveway, and Julian stood, crossing his bedroom to the window. Sunset was beginning to deepen the Sunday evening sky to orange.
How long had he been sitting there, contemplating the letter on the floor?
And thinking of Hallie.
Not long enough to reach his limit, apparently, because he stared through the glass now, starved for the sight of her. The dogs dove free of the truck first, moving in streaks of fur toward the trees at the back of the house. Hallie didn’t follow right away. She sat in the driver’s seat chewing her lip, unaware that he could see her. That he could witness her indecision or nerves. About . . . seeing him? He hated that possibility as much as he could relate to it. Being around her always left him in a state of hunger and confusion. Regret, too, because he couldn’t seem to stop fucking up and either leading her on or pushing her away.
Finally, Hallie hopped down from the truck, went around to the rear, and lowered the tailgate. Sunset spilled across her shoulders, turning her cheeks gold. She tipped her face toward the sky and closed her eyes to let the fading light kiss her features, and yearning plowed into his stomach. Hard.
Something that scares us.
Hallie would definitely be at the top of that list, but a man didn’t scale Kilimanjaro on his first hike. And would he now be betraying the letter writer if he used the challenge as an excuse to go after what he—might as well admit it—wanted so goddamn bad, he was being tortured day and night by the thought of it? Her? Also known as the beautiful gardener trudging toward his garden in rubber boots, cutoff shorts, and a navy blue hoodie that hung off one shoulder.
In her arms, she carried a pot of what Julian assumed was the dusty miller she’d referred to at the Wine Down event. The dogs trotted over to escort her, sniffing at her elbows and knees. She greeted each of them by name, her voice fading into the evening light as she disappeared around the side of the house. And he moved like an apparition to his office so he could pick up the sound again, hear it in full effect. The silly baby-talk way she spoke to her pets that was beginning to sound totally normal to him. The soft expulsions of breath when she exerted herself or dropped to her knees in the soil. Her voice seemed to fill the entire house, warm and sultry and singularly hers.
Jesus, was he starting to sweat?
Julian was on the verge of returning to the bedroom out of pure necessity, to handle the situation arising in his pants, when his sister’s voice joined Hallie’s outside the office window.
He felt as if ice water were spilling from the crown of his head to his toes.
This wasn’t good.
He didn’t know why exactly it wasn’t good, but it was decidedly not.
Last night at Wine Down, he’d been distracted by Hallie. Too distracted to be careful with his words. It was only after he’d said those revealing things to Natalie about his unyielding drive to make Hallie happy that he wished he could go back in time and cram a cork in his mouth. There’d been more than enough of the bottle stoppers around, after all.
He might have made progress with Natalie last night—they were working their way back to a better sibling relationship, slowly but surely—but unfortunately, she wouldn’t know discretion if it bit her on the ass.
Julian moved at a fast clip toward the front of the house and blew down the steps, only slowing to a sedate walk when the two women came into view. They were smiling, Hallie introducing Petey, Todd, and the General to Natalie, who was still in night shorts and a Cornell T-shirt. “Aren’t you all just the sweetest gentlemen? Yes, you are! Yes. You. Are.”