Practice makes perfect, p.20
Practice Makes Perfect, page 20
Noah looks at him in dismay. Actually, we all do.
Madison plucks the fry out of James’s fingers. “Stop acting like you’re a super progressive man who knows about romance. You only know that because I showed you the article ten minutes ago at the bar.”
James shrugs. “But I get points for actually listening.” He pauses and looks up at my scowling brother. “Actually…now that I think of it, Noah, you’re kind of a stern brunch—”
“If you say the word daddy one more time, you’re going to be scraping your teeth off the floor.”
James pretends to shiver with delight. “I love it when you go all alpha.”
I wish I could say I’m enjoying this conversation, but the truth is, I’m hardly listening. The majority of my consciousness is laser focused on the place Will’s knee is resting against mine. A soft, yet almost intentional, pressure that I try not to overthink. But the thing about quiet people is, we’re only quiet because our brains are so busy overthinking everything.
Does he know his leg is touching mine? Does he want his leg to be touching mine? Tactile, Annie. He’s just tactile, remember? The man needs to be touching something at all times. He’s probably touching Emily’s leg on the other side. I glance under the table to sneak a peek, but nope. Their legs could fit an entire watermelon between them. And then my gaze shifts to his hand resting on his thigh. I have the strongest urge to reach over and run my finger over the wings of the intricate butterfly. To take that hand and put it back on my hip and tell him to squeeze because it’s the memory of that touch that will likely haunt me until I’m in my grave.
And then his hand flexes, and I realize I’ve been caught staring. I suck in a breath and shoot my gaze up and forward. But in the corner of my eye, I can see Will looking at me. He turns forward abruptly when Amelia addresses him. “I bet you’re wishing you’d never sat down right about now.”
Will laughs and it’s warm and inviting. “Nah—I kinda like the absurdness. It makes me miss my brother.”
“You have a brother?” she asks. “How did I not know that?”
“I don’t get to see him a lot. You know…working and all that.”
The look on Amelia’s face says she feels personally responsible for his lack of time with his brother, but I know better. I heard the hesitation in his voice and the blasé way he delivered that sentence—there’s more there that Will doesn’t want unearthed. I have the deepest urge to take a shovel and get to digging.
Will interprets her expression too. “Amelia, don’t worry. You’re not overworking me.”
Her face skews up. “I feel like I am. You need a break! Take one now. Starting today, no more working until after the—”
“Like hell I will. I like working. It’s what makes me happy. Now, enough about me. Please.” This man really hates talking about himself. He has deflected any sort of personal revelations from the day we met. And yet I’ve still managed to understand him more than he’d like me to. I know that he kicks all the covers off when he sleeps because his body heats up to the temperature of the sun. I know that he adds extra salt to his fries—and that he hates soda. I know that he’s an early bird and wakes up with the sun. And I also know that something in his past hurt him because he used to hide in a magnolia tree but absolutely won’t discuss it. I think he has scars he keeps safely hidden behind his charm.
Suddenly I realize my family is all staring at me like I have a horn sprouting from between my eyes. “What?” I ask, alarm running through my voice.
“He just said a cuss word. Why doesn’t he get a tally in the sacred notebook?” Emily asks.
“Oh. Well, because…” I turn my eyes to Will and contemplate it. The answer springs to my mind immediately, but I know I can’t say it out loud. Because I like it when he does. So instead, I smile. Not even meaning to, really. And Will smiles, too, like he can read my thoughts. Like he’s remembering our secret stolen moments together in the flower shop, in my truck, in my room—and that just maybe he knows me in different ways than my siblings do. “He gets one freebie.”
That seems to appease everyone enough for their attention to turn away from me.
“Speaking of freebies!” Amelia starts. “Guess what I brought y’all back from L.A.”
I tune out as Will leans in close to my ear. “Is it okay that I’m here? I figured it would be because everyone in the town thinks we’re dating now. But maybe I assumed wrong, and you want to keep our hangouts on the down-low?”
Hmm, is it okay that he’s here? That his warm breath is caressing the shell of my ear and making my head spin? That just the nearness of him has the blood in my veins pumping with fire? No. It’s not okay. And I think it’s only fair that he move far, far away because whether he means to or not, he’s slowly wrecking my plans.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say with a quiet grin. “And my family knows we’re not really together now. They guessed it the other day, so there’s no pressure to act like it at the table.”
“Hmm,” he says making a deep noise in his throat. “That’s too bad.”
And something happens to me that I’ve never experienced before. The world around me falls away, and for once, I’m not worried what anyone is thinking of me. All I know is Will’s eyes are fixed on mine, and his mouth is curving softly and his hand is dropping to my leg where it splays out like it’s been in that same spot a hundred times before. And before I know it, I’m tipping forward. He meets me in the middle and our lips brush.
It’s not enough, though, and instinctively my hand raises to clutch the back of his neck, my body curving toward his as his hand contracts against my thigh. Our mouths move and press and it feels so right. So hot—his touch burns me from the inside out. I feel the subtle glide of his tongue across my mine and that’s when reality grabs me by the scruff of my neck. Oh my gosh, we’re making out at the table in front of my family. Me! Annie Walker is making out in a public setting. I rip my mouth away from Will’s and pat my lips with the back of my hand.
Everyone—and I do mean everyone in this bar—is wide-eyed, staring. They look like cartoons with jaws unhinged.
Emily speaks first as a laugh courses through her voice. “Well, I think Hot Bank Teller is wishing he’d asked you out right about now.”
“What?”
My eyes fly over Will’s shoulder, and sure enough, John is here, watching—looking just as shocked as everyone else. Of course my sisters don’t know that I actually went on that date with John and that it was a disaster, so they move on from Emily’s statement pretty quick. But because I did go out with him and he damaged my self-esteem by leaving mid date, a whole new layer gets added to that public make-out session with Will.
I didn’t do that to get John’s attention or prove anything to him—but knowing that he’s having to eat his words, that maybe I’m not as boring or awkward as he suspected, has a surge of joy rocketing through me. But would I have kissed him in public? Would I have felt safe enough with him to ever let him touch me the way I let Will? I don’t think so.
Will notices my triumphant expression and turns his face to see where my gaze is landing. And I can feel the moment all the dots connect for him. His body stiffens slightly, and when he looks back to me—his face is a little too void of emotion. “That was the guy, right?”
I don’t need for him to expound. “Yes.”
He nods a few times. “Nice. I think you successfully made him jealous,” he says in a low voice so the rest of the table can’t hear.
“No, Will, that’s—”
“It’s exactly what I would have done. Great job. All this practicing is paying off.” He gives me a smile that feels so fake I want to wipe it off his face. I hate that smile. That’s not his smile. That’s a shielded self-preservation smile. And it only serves to remind me that Will doesn’t want me to know him. He promised me from the beginning that this would never be anything more than practice, and he’s reestablishing those boundaries now.
I hate practice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Will
It’s been a few days since the kiss in the bar that completely shook me. No, I’m not being dramatic, and no I’m not exaggerating. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about a kiss for longer than twenty minutes after the fact. But Annie’s kiss…that one soft, vulnerable kiss, has been playing through my head for three days now. It was perfect in a way that I can’t describe. I know that public attention is hard for her, so to have her initiate that kiss because she wanted it was too much.
But then she looked over my shoulder, and a jealousy I’ve never known gripped me. It was for show. And of course it was. She didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, like I told her, it’s exactly what I would have done if someone I would want to make jealous was nearby. I just wish I could say it didn’t sting to realize it meant so much to me, and was only part of a maneuver on her end.
I thought…never mind. Doesn’t matter.
Postkiss, I went to the bar for a beer. But if I’m being honest with myself, I went to meet the jerk sitting at the bar who had the audacity to leave Annie in the middle of a date.
And I know he’s a jerk because when I walked up and ordered a beer, he asked me if Annie and I were exclusive. For a long minute, all I could do was stare at him. Stare at him and imagine punching the shit out of him because he only wanted Annie after he saw her make out with me in public. He’s not the kind of man who’s going to savor her or treat her well or peel back her layers to gain her trust. He’s looking for a quick good time with her, and that’s too much to stomach.
But if that’s what Annie wants, it’s not my business to get in her way no matter what I think about him. So I was honest. “Nah—it’s not serious. I’ll most likely be leaving at the end of month.” And for some reason, saying that last part had every muscle in my body tensing.
His eyebrows had gone up in a look of anticipation that made me hate him more. “Really?” He smiled as he took a drink of his beer. “Cool. I guess I misjudged her.”
And then I hated myself in that moment, too, because I felt like a disrespectful asshole for talking about Annie without her present. For throwing her to a shark all because I’m terrified to admit that holding her in my arms is the closest I’ve come to feeling truly happy in a very long time. I didn’t even know I was lacking happiness. But now that I’ve realized it, I can pinpoint it with scary accuracy.
I don’t know what this means for me now or where to go from here. Nowhere, maybe?
And that’s why I’ve been hiding and avoiding her the last few days. I invented a bogus fan threat and told Annie I needed to stay parked outside of Amelia’s studio while she worked, and that we couldn’t go into town. Even Amelia didn’t question it because this kind of thing happens from time to time. Our agency keeps a close watch on her known stalkers, and we get alerts when they are in a certain radius to her. Do I feel bad about adding potential unnecessary worry to Amelia’s life by suggesting said stalker is nearby, no. Because I’m not the good guy—even though spending time with Annie makes me feel remarkably close to one.
Today we’re headed into town, though. I couldn’t keep up the pretenses of a potential threat much longer. Currently I’m escorting Amelia down the sidewalk toward The Pie Shop. The paparazzi sightings have been pretty minimal lately, and even now I can only spot one carrying a long lens on the opposite side of the square, but I spoke with my agency last night, and they predict a steep rise over the next two weeks leading up to the wedding.
I’m in full work mode when we’re out in public, keeping an eye around us at all times for any potential threat. Zero percent of my brain is focused on Annie or what she’s doing or what her days have been full of or why she hasn’t even texted me at all. And that’s when my foot hits a divot in the sidewalk and I trip, nearly busting my ass on the pavement before I catch myself.
“Holy crap, Will!” says Amelia, stretching out a hand to help me up. I don’t accept her hand and instead pop up on my own with extra exuberance, brushing my slightly raw palms against my jeans. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen you trip before.”
“I’m fine, let’s keep going.”
Amelia’s mouth is open and she looks near laughing. “You’re blushing. I’ve never seen you blush either! I didn’t know you could be embarrassed.” Now she is laughing and I hate her for it. Are we sure she isn’t actually my annoying little sister after all?
“Come on, we don’t need to stand here. There are paparazzi over there.” Who most definitely caught my spectacular fall on camera and will publish it ASAP. Cool. Just the sort of image I want buzzed around the internet. Clumsy Blushing Bodyguard.
This is Annie’s fault. Another reason I need to get my head out of the clouds. Relationships interfere. They’re bad for people. They’re—
“Where the hell is Annie?” I ask Amelia when we pass her flower shop and see a Closed sign on the door.
“She’s sick.”
“What? Since when?” My voice sounds a little too eager.
Amelia points to the little sticky note on the door. It’s in Annie’s handwriting. Only in a town this small would someone leave a note like this: “Out sick! Be back when I don’t feel like I have plungers up my nose anymore.”
I look sharply to Amelia. “How long has she been sick?”
“I think since the day after Hank’s.”
Shit. I had no idea. Now I feel terrible. This whole time she’s been sick, and I haven’t checked in on her at all. Wait. No. It’s not my job to check up on her. I’m her dating coach, not her boyfriend or her nurse. If it were anyone else in the world, I’d never think twice about someone having a cold. In fact, I’d stay even farther away so I wouldn’t catch anything. I’m just going to put her out of my mind and see her when I see her.
We walk in silence a few steps.
“Do you think she has a fever?”
Amelia chuckles to herself. “She did…but I don’t know if she still does.”
I tap my thumb on the side of my thigh and try to stay silent again. “I just don’t understand why no one told me she was sick.”
She pauses and turns to me with laughing eyes. “And I didn’t realize I was supposed to give you updates on Annie’s day-to-day health.”
“Well, now you know. I always want to be kept in the loop about…everyone’s health.”
“Okay. Now I know,” she says, with deep satisfaction. We walk a few more steps before Amelia breaks it. “Davey’s son broke his arm last week.”
“Who?” I frown down at her.
“You know. Little Charlie?”
“No.”
“And Mabel said she had a tickle in her throat the other day. I wonder if she’s catching what Annie has.”
I breathe deeply to counteract my annoyance. I see what she’s doing.
“Oh—and I heard Gemma is going to have to have surgery for some of her bunions later this month!”
“Amelia.”
“What!” She laughs. “I thought you wanted to be kept in the loop about everyone’s health. I’m just looping you in per your request!”
I groan. “I say this with all due respect as someone who works for you—please, shut up.”
As soon as I say this, Noah steps out of The Pie Shop. “She doesn’t know how to. I think it’s physically impossible for her, actually.” He grins at her and she steps into his arms, angling her face up to kiss him. Right out here in broad daylight where the paparazzi get their fill. These two don’t care, though—they’re in a lovesick bubble. So sick that Noah came outside to greet Amelia like an overeager golden retriever. That’ll never be me.
Amelia looks at me over her shoulder once they’re finished with their PDA. “Thanks for walking me in, Will. I’ll be here all afternoon with Noah and then ride home with him. So you’re off the clock for the rest of the day to go…wherever you like—and see…whoever you’d like to see.”
Noah frowns lightly. “You’re talking about Annie, right?”
She lightly pinches him in the side. “I was trying to be subtle.”
“I love you, but there was nothing subtle about that. Leave him alone and come bug me instead,” says Noah, pulling Amelia away as she tries to stare me into spilling my guts on her way into The Pie Shop.
Only when she’s out of eyeshot do I turn around and take off jogging down to the market.
* * *
—
I set a box of tissues on the checkout counter, followed by a box of cold medicine, a few various types of hot tea, and some random produce; and then let my eyes trail over to the town petition, trying to stop me and Annie from dating. So far, it’s looking grim. Three votes in favor (Mabel, Emily, and Madison) and over a hundred votes against. Why does that make my stomach sink?
I shake it off and look up into the most terrifying eyes I’ve ever seen: Harriet’s. This woman is severe and calculating at all times. And she really hates me.
“Hmm…cold medicine,” she says in an odd way.
I nod and fish my wallet out of my back pocket as she begins scanning everything besides the cold medicine.
Suddenly a scratchy voice sounds from the right of my shoulder. “A lot of cold and flu products there, William. Feeling under the weather?” Mabel. She’s everywhere.
“Uh—no, ma’am.”
“Then why do you need all this cold medicine, hmm?” says Harriet, lifting her brows to her hairline. “Are you planning to make drugs with them?”
I frown at the single box of Tylenol Cold + Flu Severe. “I think you’re thinking of the medicine that contains pseudoephedrine.”
Her eyes narrow on me, down to my tattoos and back up to my face. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”
This makes me laugh. Yes, my sleeve of intricate flowers and foliage paired with the butterfly really falls into the usual profiling for meth addicts. I wonder what this town, or the general public for that matter, would think if they found out I was the valedictorian of my graduating class. That I had scores so high and excelled at so many extracurricular activities (hello, science club) that I got into MIT. That I didn’t even go on my first date until I graduated from high school and decided I was tired of living my life to perfection only for it to still not help anything.
