Page 19 of Business Casual
I think about his palm against my back. The way his cheerful face settled into something heated the longer we danced together. A heavy considering twist to his lips. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so serious. I wonder if that’s how he’d look above me. Below me. If he’d be just as demanding with his touch.
I catch myself and scowl.
I should not be thinking anything about Charlie.
“Saw you dancing with Milford last night,” Nessa says around a gulp of jet-black coffee. I almost fling my English muffin across the room.
She raises both eyebrows. “I wasn’t that drunk,” she defends, mistaking the intent of my breakfast projectile.
“You sang ‘Greased Lightnin’?’ to my bird bath.”
“Okay, point taken.” She drops her chin in her hand. “I do remember you dancing with Charlie though. One of my last coherent memories. What’s that about?”
“I’m not allowed to dance with my friends?”
She gives me an assessing look across the counter. “Since when have you been friends with Charlie?”
I frown. “I’ve always been friends with Charlie.”
Nessa tips her chin down. “Hmm.”
“What does that mean? That hmm.”
She shrugs. “It’s just a hmm. I didn’t realize you were friends who danced. When was the last time you willingly danced, by the way? You screeched at me when I tried to get you to dance at the solstice festival.”
“I didn’t screech.”
“You screeched.”
“There’s a difference between dancing at a wedding and dancing in the middle of the town square at two p.m.”
“Not much, but okay.”
I sigh and press the palm of my hand against the back of my neck. Everything feels too tight from the base of my skill to the spread of my shoulders. Whatever good my run did me this morning has already evaporated. If I’m not careful, I’ll tip myself right into a migraine, and I don’t have the time.
Vanessa watches me carefully. “Headache starting?”
I shake my head. “Just stressed. The shop opens in about a month. There’s a lot to do.”
“You need to take care of yourself.”
I squeeze the back of my neck and release. Squeeze and release. My family means well, but there’s nothing on my to-do list that can simply be dropped. I know what my triggers are. I know when I’m pushing myself too hard. I know my limits and know my body.
“And you need a shower,” I counter. “You look like you rolled around in my front yard last night.”
“I did roll around in your front yard last night.”
“Exactly.” I nod toward the stairs. “There’s a bunch of stuff in the guest bathroom. Help yourself.”
She slips from her stool with her mug of coffee curled in her hands, shoulders hunched to keep my blanket wrapped tight aroundher. “Oh, hey,” I call before she disappears. “Can I borrow your phone?”
“It’s probably dead, but sure.”
I find it wedged beneath a pillow and swipe open the lock screen. I scroll to Beckett’s name and tap out a message.
NOVA:Please rescue my phone from your tree field.
NOVA:This is Nova, by the way.
