Chapter 8

8

brOOKE

I think Jonah was impressed that I sat with Ernest over coffee while his arm was being stitched up, chatting about the ins and outs of repairing your own tractor.

Good. I want to show him that I can be useful. He seems more than delighted to spoil me rotten, which I appreciate, but I don't want him to think for one second that I expect that. I've always looked out for myself. Always had to.

Plus, I know that the whole Jonah caring for me thing is simply a temporary fantasy, certainly not something that would last. Although I can't stop thinking about how amazing it would be to try. Maybe. Is there even the smallest chance that I could move up here, find a little apartment, and date Jonah for a while?

Although he probably wouldn't be interested after he saw where I came from. After he found out how my father treated my mother, and how I've been trying to keep my distance from her my entire life.

I mean, come on. Jonah comes from a wealthy family with well-established roots. His ancestors basically built this town, for crying out loud! There's no way he could be seen with someone like me. I have no real family; there's nothing notable about me. My "career", if you wanted to be generous and call it that, is drawing pretend maps for strangers online. Not really something normal people would build a life around.

Plus… I can't quite tell how controlling Jonah is. He knows what I need to do to heal these stupid bruised ribs, so I know he's not trying to be bossy there, and just wants the best for me. And yet, part of me wants to rebel anyway. What's up with that? Maybe I'm just prickly because I really do need his help right now, plus I'm in pain.

I assist him all day long, trying to prove myself. Not just to him, but also to that creepy little negative voice in the back of my mind questioning that I could even think about belonging here in Old Hemlock Valley. It's a charming town with lovely people. The kind of place I've always dreamed of living.

When we get into Jonah's truck at the end of his shift, he asks, "How did your sketching go today between patients?"

"Amazing, actually. I think I've decided on the style I'm going to use for one client, and the other two are just the same as before, with a few minor adjustments. It should all come together pretty soon."

"That's great. Hey, how do you feel about picking up some burritos?"

"Only if you'll let me treat."

His shifty side eye tells me that's not an option. "That's very sweet, but it's on me."

" Grrr ."

My pathetic attempt at a fierce growl makes him chuckle. "You know, I've laughed more with you in the past few days than I have in years."

Reaching out to squeeze his knee, I laugh with him. "Me too."

"Hey, your side is a bit better, right?"

"Yeah – it is, actually."

"Amazing. Heating pads, rest and more painkillers. It's almost like I know what I'm talking about."

I hate that his overprotective instincts were correct. " Grrr. "

We drive to a quaint old-fashioned diner called Fran's. It has the typical black and white checkered floor, vinyl booths, and older waitresses who call you "Sugar". But the menu isn't your typical fifties fare, extending beyond burgers to burritos to pasta.

We order from their take-out menu and sit in a booth for the ten minutes it takes them to prepare our food.

The decor gets us chatting about retro movies, but my eyes keep darting around the room as we talk. "What is it?" Jonah reaches across the table to take my hand. "Something making you jumpy?"

"Not really. It just occurred to me that probably within the next hour every single person in town is going to be talking about you walking in here with your arm around some strange girl."

Jonah shoots a look over his shoulder and a half dozen sets of eyeballs swivel back to their plates. "For the record, I don't think you're strange. Delightfully quirky? Maybe."

My fingers squeeze his. "You know what I mean. I'm not from around here. An outsider. Small-town people hate outsiders, right?"

He smiles, his dark eyes pulling me in with a magnetism that feels otherworldly. "Not here. There's no hate in this town." His thumb caresses the side of my hand. "Some extra questions, maybe. But just part of the getting-to-know-you process."

I don't know how to answer that, so I simply nod.

"For the record," he murmurs softly, "I'm really enjoying the getting-to-know-you process." He picks up my hand, kissing the back of it right there in front of several white-haired women who are very obviously staring.

"Looking forward to getting you home, gorgeous," he says softly, leaning in to kiss my cheek before standing to pick up our order.

Great. Now, all of Old Hemlock Valley is going to think that Jonah has a girlfriend. I want it to be true. So much. But I guess I want to know all the details before I jump in with both feet.

Before it's too late for me to jump back out, if I need to.