“Don’t lift those. I’ll get them.” I shoo her away from the stack of chairs she’s moved to try and lift and then carry them across the room. When I’m done, I meet her at the next table and we start the cleanup process over again. “You can take my room and I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll probably be up before you anyway to feed the horses. With me in the living room, I won’t disturb you.”
“Fine, but not tonight. I’ve got a few things to finish up in the morning.” Layla wipes the sweat from her brow and leans against the table. “I can meet you around four.”
“Four is good. I’ll text you my address in the morning.”
“Perfect.” Layla reaches out and touches my arm. “You should get going, Josh. You have a long drive ahead of you.”
I step in front of Layla, one leg on either side of her. She looks up at me, sucking in an audible breath. I thread my fingers through the hair at the base of her neck and press my mouth to hers for a quick kiss. I’d love to deepen it and fully taste those lips, but I don’t think she would appreciate me making out with her at her job.
“Goodnight, beautiful. See you tomorrow.”
My stomach feels like it’s on a rollercoaster, lifting high into my throat as I get closer to Josh’s place, then dropping down into my seat as I pass it. I’ve driven down his dirt road, passed the turn off, then circled back twice, trying to decide if sleeping at his house is a good idea.
I’m equally excited and terrified about tonight. I know Josh mentioned me staying for the weekend, but I doubt that will happen. One night is more than enough to get a feel for what I’m doing because, honestly, I have no clue.
I spend my days occupying my mind with my classes and fundraising stuff, and even then he sneaks into my thoughts. Nights are the worst. I’ve overanalyzed everything Josh said and did last weekend. I found his Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok accounts, straddling the line between curious and stalker more than once.
All so I can convince myself that having these feelings for Josh are a bad idea. I don’t need any distractions, and he is proving to be a major one.
So why can’t I stop thinking about him?
After two more drive-bys, I finally turn down the bumpy driveway. I pass the first house on the property, only because Josh told me to do so, and follow a narrow tire-track path through the grass.
Everything about what I’m doing feels wrong. My knee bounces as I look around, waiting for someone to jump out from behind a bush with a shotgun and yell at me to get off the grass.
Against my better judgement, I stay on the path, turning around a large barn, and am met with a cute, log cabin-style house. When Josh said he’d be sleeping on the couch, I assumed he lived in a tiny cottage like Hattie. This place might not be some luxurious eight-bedroom home like Aunt Tricia’s house, but it ain’t tiny, either.
I park my Jetta beside Josh’s truck, feeling slightly better now that I recognize the vehicle, but can’t force myself to move. I’m out of my comfort zone. The only guy I’ve ever been with was Ashley and I wouldn't exactly call what we had a relationship.
We didn’t date, unless you count social gatherings at the country club with our parents. We didn’t go out together without my brother as a chaperone. We didn’t do anything normal teenagers do because, for ninety percent of our relationship, we didn’t like each other. We were essentially arranged to be married and forced to get along.
Not once did I feel the nervous flutters wreaking havoc inside me when we were together. I never lost sleep, wondering what Ashley was doing or who he was with. And I damn sure didn’t have an erotic dream and wake up wondering if it was real or not.
All of this can’t be normal. Maybe I’m getting sick and should go home. Maybe…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I jump in my seat and look up. Josh is at my window, lips curling into a smile that reaches his eyes. I click the unlock button and he swings my door open.
“Are you gonna come in, or sit here all night?” He extends his hand to help me out of my car and into a bear hug. Strong arms wrap around my waist, pressing me into his body.
Josh takes a step back, dropping his arms, and smiles. There’s a burning sensation of anticipation in my chest, and I find myself blushing again. I press the button on my key fob to open my trunk and grab my overflowing backpack, but Josh immediately takes it from me, swinging it over his shoulder as if it’s an empty pillowcase.
He clears his throat and glances over at his house. “Come on.”
“This is beautiful,” I tell him looking around the living room. The walls are wood paneled like the outside, with large windows letting in the Florida sun. The floors are white tiled, making the room even brighter. The house feels warm and cozy and all I want to do is curl up on the sofa with a cup of coffee and a book.
“Thanks. It was my paw’s place before he passed.” Josh kicks his boots off by the door. I reach down and unclasp the strap of my sandals, setting my shoes beside his. “I’ll show you to your room.”
I follow, but stop to look at a picture in the hallway. Josh doubles back to stand beside me, with a mile wide grin on his face. “That was a good day. That’s Paw, and that’s Bret, my brother.” He then points to the picture of a kid who’s missing his two front teeth, holding a fish bigger than his arm. “The stud with the fish is me. I fought that beast for ten minutes to reel it in.” He chuckles at the memory. “No sooner did the flash of Paw’s camera go off did the fish wiggle out of my hands and flop off the side of the boat.”
Josh laughs again, then opens the second door on the left. The room is white walled instead of wood, but the bed frame and dresser are a dark oak, tying it to the rest of the house. To my surprise, like the house, his room is spotless. No dirty clothes on the floor or cups on the nightstand. There’s not even a speck of dust on the ceiling fan.
“The house has three bedrooms.” Josh sets my bag on the bed then leans against the footboard. “My room, an office, and Paw’s room. I don’t go into his room though, it’s too hard.”
I sit beside Josh, and take his hand in mine. I might not know him well, but I know what suffering looks like, and he looks like he’s hurting. “Were you close?”
“Yeah. My dad wasn't around, he bailed sometime after I was born. Paw took us in. Built this house for Mom, then moved us to the main house when Bret started middle school.” Josh falls back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. “I miss him.”