Love with Me (Page 5)

Jace and I walk down the sidewalk, just a few blocks up from the waterfront and Pike’s Place Market, among throngs of people and shops, restaurants and offices. The city makes me feel energized.

We stop at a red light, waiting our turn to cross the street. When the signal turns, Jace takes my hand in his, linking our fingers to cross the road. He’s done this before. He’s a chivalrous guy.

When we safely reach the other side, I go to pull my hand away, but Jace tightens his grip, not letting me go. And I don’t fight it.

“Let’s go into Nordstrom,” he suggests, making me laugh. “What? I want to look at their shoes.”

“Seems I can’t avoid Nordy’s this week,” I reply. “Noel called me earlier, wanting me to go to the semi-annual sale this weekend, but I’m on call.”

“Awesome, I get you instead.” He winks down at me. “How is Noel?”

“She’s great. Busier than ever. Her business has exploded this year.”

“Good for her,” he says as he pulls the door of the store open, holding it for me, and my hand feels cold when I lose that connection with him. “So, the interior decorating business is thriving?”

“For her, it is,” I confirm. “Lead the way. I have no idea where the men’s shoes are.”

“Do you know where anything is in here?”

“Can’t say that I do,” I reply with a laugh. “You know I’m not a shopper. That’s Noel’s department.”

“I promise this won’t hurt a bit,” he says as he leads me to the escalator going down. This is the flagship store, and it’s massive. A person could get lost in here.

The men’s shoe section is bigger than most other department stores, and from the look on Jace’s face, it’s what dreams are made of.

“You might want to wipe the drool off your chin,” I suggest, earning a tug on my ear.

“I love shoes,” he says with a sigh, picking up a pair of tennis shoes. “I won’t apologize for it.”

“You have more shoes than I have hairs on my head.” I lift a pair of Guccis, and about choke at the price on the sole, immediately putting it down before I ruin it and have to buy it.

Jace ignores my ribbing and proceeds to try on about six pairs of shoes before deciding on two of them. When he’s finished, we return upstairs to leave, but the sunglasses catch my eye.

“I could use a new pair of these,” I murmur as I start trying them on. “What do you think?”

“Are you trying to say, ‘I’m Elton John’s love child?’”

“No.”

“Then they’re not for you.” He laughs and searches with me for another pair, his grey eyes moving over the glasses. He’s in a black T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. His arms flex as he reaches up to pull a pair down. “Try these.”

“Hey, they’re not bad.” I turn my head, looking in the mirror. “You like?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sold.”

“That was easy,” he says.

“Why make it hard? I like them, and I hate to shop, so we’re done here.” I lead him to the customer service counter and pay for my glasses, and then we’re off, back on the busy sidewalks of Seattle.

“Let’s take these to the car and then get a bite to eat,” Jace says. “In fact, you choose a place, and then I’ll just run these to the car myself.”

“I haven’t been to the Palomino in a while.” It’s my favorite steakhouse in Seattle.

“That does sound good,” he says. “Plus, we’re parked near there, so it’s perfect.”

We rush the few blocks to the restaurant, which isn’t busy yet, and are seated quickly. True to his word, Jace hurries over to stow our bags before returning to browse the menu.

“God, I don’t think I’ve been here since we came to celebrate your birthday two years ago,” he says as he sets his menu aside and takes a drink of his water.

“Same here,” I reply, deciding on the steak frites. “It’s so different at lunchtime versus the dinner rush.”

“I like it,” he agrees. “I can actually hear you.”

The waitress comes with our drinks, takes our food order, and when she’s gone, Jace reaches over to hold my hand again.

This is new. While Jace has always grabbed my hand to cross the street, he doesn’t randomly hold my hand in other places.

It sends a tingle up my arm and straight to my nipples, making them pucker.

Jesus, I hope he can’t see them through this thin, pink T-shirt.

“So, aside from the shoes you bought today,” I begin, trying to distract myself from my suddenly uncomfortable breasts, and slide my hand out of his, “have you bought any other shoes lately?”

“Hmm.” He spreads butter on a piece of bread and takes a bite, chewing as he thinks about it. “I found some new Jordans a couple of weeks ago. I downloaded an app on my phone that alerts me to new shoes so I can see what’s coming and what I might want.”

“Wow.” I blink at him.

“Oh, it’s a thing,” he says and takes another bite. “There are people who even resell the ones that are hard to get. They make a ton of money. I guess if this surgeon thing doesn’t work out, I could do that.”

“No.” I shake my head vehemently. “The surgeon thing is going to be fine.”

“I could become a YouTuber and review shoes.”

I continue to blink at him, and he finally dissolves into laughter. “You should see your face.”

“I did not tutor you all through English Comp in college just to have you review shoes on YouTube.”

“Hey, this isn’t all about you.”

“Yes.”—I take a bite of bread—“it is. But it’s an interesting hobby.”

“What’s your hobby, J?”

I stop chewing and frown at him. “Uh, work?”

“Nope, that can’t be your hobby.”

“Taking Nancy for walks.”

He cocks a brow. “Bor-ing.”

“Don’t judge me, shoe-addict. I guess I like to cook, so that’s a hobby.”

“Okay, this I can work with.”

“It’s not about you.”

He grins as his plate is set in front of him, his eyes never leaving mine. “Yes, it is.”

“I bought apples, grapes, mango, and onions,” I inform Nancy and Carl as I unpack my sacks in the kitchen. I’ve just walked through the door. Jace has gone home, probably to admire his awesome new shoes and find them homes in his ridiculously huge closet, and I’m looking forward to a quiet evening at home with my animals, a glass of wine, and Netflix. “Pike’s Place Market has the best produce. Of course, they charge an arm and a leg for it, but it’s totally worth it.”

“Meow,” Carl says before turning in a circle on the stool in front of the island and then beginning to take a bath.

“I know,” I say as if I know exactly what he said. “The grapes are big. I think I’ll freeze them.”

Nancy follows me all over the kitchen as I wash and put away the produce. She has a doggie door to get in and out to do her business, but she really prefers to go with me during the day.

“I know, you’ve been alone all day,” I say, giving her a scratch behind her ears. “Let’s go for a walk.”

At the word walk, she runs to the door and sits pretty by her leash.

“You’re a good girl,” I croon as I hook her up. She leads me outside, down to the sidewalk, and along the street. We always take the same route. I’m convinced Nancy could walk herself, she knows it so well. She stops here and there to sniff about, mark, and then rejoins me on the sidewalk.

Nancy is a happy dog. She’s adapted well to having just one eye and living with me. In the beginning, I thought I’d foster her until we could find her a permanent home, but she bullied her way into my heart with her sweet, happy demeanor and funny antics.

She was meant to be mine.

When we come around the corner, only about a block from the house, I see that Jace’s car is sitting in the driveway behind mine.