Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 46(@250wpm)___ 38(@300wpm)
Closing my eyes, I take a deep, steadying breath. I regret this decision immensely.
Two sets of boots hit the floor and Stew gestures to Bennet, indicating where the kitchen is. Which is what I should be doing. I can’t believe he’s back in town.
Wearing dark blue jeans, work boots and a simple black tee that hugs those broad shoulders just right, I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of him.
Memories hit me one by one.
Bennet dated my best friend in high school. Pamela moved away a few years ago when a lawyer came into town and swept her off her feet. He stole her away back to his hometown. People rarely come and go once they move here. To see Bennet back, though … it takes me back to those first moments of puppy love.
To a foolish teen who had a crush on her best friend’s boyfriend. Which was never going to be anything. Even when they broke up, he was off-limits.
… Pamela is married now, though, and with that thought, I inwardly kick myself for not checking to see if Bennet has a ring on his finger.
I close the door, ready to sneak a peek with both men’s backs to me as they face the kitchen sink. Stew explains to Bennet the problems I’ve had with the old plumbing and I’m caught off guard as Stew turns abruptly.
Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice my shock at being caught and I keep my one arm crossed in front of me, the other still clutching my robe.
“If you’ll just fill this out when you have a moment,” Stew tells me, waving the old clipboard with an attached pen he always carries around. He leaves it on the counter and behind him, Bennet crouches down, opening the doors beneath the sink and disappearing from view.
“I have another call that needs me, but I’m going to leave this paperwork with you,” Stew explains. “You’re in good hands,” Stew adds and then tells Bennet he’s leaving. It’s at that moment Bennet stands, facing both of us from the other side of the mineral gray granite island.
He runs his hand up the back of his neck and over his hair before giving Stew a wave and saying, “No worries. I can take care of this.”
For a moment, I hear him say “her.” I can take care of “her” … Oh yes, I’m sure he could.
With a heated blush creeping into my cheeks, I scold myself. It doesn’t matter that I pined over him for years, we’ve never been a thing and I’m sure we never will.
BENNET
It is her. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as I do my best to act as casual as possible. Like it doesn’t get to me to see her again after all these years.
Wrapped in only a thin robe with a look in her eyes that tells me she remembers me just as well as I remember her.
I swear back then, there was a tension between us and I always thought it was because she was off-limits. I thought, maybe I only felt that way because I knew she’d never let me take her out, she’d never kiss me. Not when I had dated her best friend. Even if that never went anywhere. For the rest of high school, Aubrey was her closest friend and we only ever shared stolen glances.
Glances that made my heart beat faster and sent a tingle of heat down my shoulders. Glances exactly like the one we just had.
It’s a small town and Cedar Lane is even smaller. Housewives and busybodies keep the gossip as fresh and hot as the coffee at the corner diner. I wonder why Aubrey picked this place but the answers stare back at me. From the cozy but contemporary furniture, to the rose bushes out front and the picket fence, it’s obvious. She’s the girl next door in a small town and everything about this place speaks to that.
From the walls painted a soft sage and the accompanying accents in the kitchen, to the walnut floor that matches the cabinetry, this is a home. One with little touches like owl-shaped spatulas and a pitcher of homemade lemonade she put out on the counter. There are even fresh slices of lemons.
It’s hard to remain professional and not take in every detail about the girl next door I couldn’t have.
“If you’d like a glass, feel free,” she says and her comment draws my attention back to her. Right before it moves to the robe she’s holding on to tight. Clearing my throat, I thank her.
“I appreciate it,” I tell her and don’t dare move my gaze from hers. Whatever I do now won’t be her first impression of me, but it’s my first day of work since I’ve been home. The first time she’s seen me in years. I’m riddled with nervousness riddles, like a lovesick teen.