But when I said I wasn’t comfortable with her paying for something so expensive, she didn’t get upset. She just shrugged and snuggled back onto the couch beside me, insisting we can have indoor picnics by the fire when it’s too cold to go outside.
She gets me. She did when we were younger, and this time around it’s no different. If anything, I feel even closer to her, so close that half the time I can finish her sentences. And she can do the same for me.
We’re a good fit. A perfect fit.
Jamison will realize that in time. And until then, the view across the street will make his scowling easier to put up with.
As I finish scheduling the plumber, my girl appears at Icing’s storefront window, blowing me a kiss that makes me smile so hard my jaw starts to hurt.
I wave back, silently wishing for the day to fly by.
I love my job, but today I can’t wait for the end of my shift, for the moment when I can jog across the street, pull Naomi into my arms, and keep her there for the rest of the night.
No doubt…I’m in deep, but that’s okay.
I’m ready.
Ready to go big or go home with the first—and hopefully the last—woman who ever owned my heart.
Chapter Eighteen
Naomi
I check the clock on the wall every ten minutes.
All. Day. Long.
Time is creeping by like a turtle through a field of molasses, and not even the fact that the floor is done, the kitchen is nearly finished, and Icing is finally starting to look like a high-class bakery instead of a tired, old donut shop can ease my case of The Fidgets.
I can’t wait to be with Jake again. Seriously. Can’t. Wait.
Catching glimpses of him across the street is both wondrous and torturous. He’s so close, but not close enough to feel his arms around me, or his scruffy four o’clock shadow scratching my cheek as we kiss. Not close enough to smell his Jake smell, or hear him laugh.
His laugh.
God, I love his laugh.
Surely it must be close to five by now…
“Do not look at the clock again!” Maddie orders, pointing a paint-smattered finger at my no-doubt guilty face. “It’s four fifty, so just go. Get out. Vamoose.”
“But it’s still ten more minutes until quitting time,” I say sheepishly, even as I close up the can of red paint I’ve been using to touch up the trim in the dining area.
“I don’t care. Go wait outside the bakery. Or outside the firehouse if you’d rather,” Maddie says, waving her paintbrush in the air as she turns back to stenciling fleur-de-lis on the wall behind the cash register. “Jake is as obsessed as you are. If you wait outside the firehouse, you two can stare at each other like sad puppies through the windows for ten minutes before he gets off work.”
Jake came over for pizza dinner at our parents’ place last Sunday night. We all had a great time catching up and playing cards after dinner, but Maddie’s been teasing me about how gross and goofy Jake and I are ever since.
But it’s good-natured teasing, and I can tell she’s happy for me.
“Well…if you insist.” I sigh and inch toward the door. “I do enjoy staring at people through windows.”
“Have fun,” she calls over her shoulder with a laugh. “And behave at the hayride. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do if I’d been drinking whiskey.”
I snort. “Oh, I’ll keep it much more decent than that.”
Maddie’s usually a pretty reserved person but get even a shot of whiskey in her and my sweet, mild-mannered little sister turns into a hellion with fire in her eyes and a wild streak a mile long. There’s not much Maddie won’t do under the influence of Jim Beam or Jack D, which was why she usually stays far away from the stuff—except on family camping trips when she has three other adult family members she can trust to lock her in the camper if she decides to walk the log across the gorge or gamble her entire savings on Tiny House Furniture stock after three whiskey and Cokes.
“All right.” Maddie sniffs primly. “But do eat half a dozen s’mores for me. I love s’mores so much.”
“Are you sure you can’t come?” I ask as I wrap my gauzy scarf around my neck and snag my purse from the coat tree by the door. “I think we’ve made great progress today. And you deserve time off, too, you know.”
“I know, but the last time I visited that farm in Happy Cat an alpaca stole my hat.”
I laugh. “Stole it? Did he try to eat it or something?”
“No, he stole it. Somehow, he ended up wearing it as he pranced around the pasture, and he looked so fabulous and fashionable I couldn’t bring myself to steal it back.” She shrugs. “Besides, Aria’s coming over to hang the paintings she did this week. I can’t wait to see them.” She turns, her hands on her hips as she surveys the space with a look of satisfaction. “And she’s bringing Felicity over, too. I plan to get that precious baby snuggle monster all sugared up on snickerdoodles and watch her go crazy on the toddler guitar I bought her. That’ll be much more fun than a hayride.”