Leaving Normal by Stef Holm (best ereader for graphic novels TXT) 📕

the covers and dashed for the shower. When she got out, the smell of coffee drifted through the house and the bed was empty.

She met Tony in the kitchen. He stood in his jeans, the top button undone. He'd slid his arms into his shirt but left the front open. His feet were bare.

"I have to leave right now," she'd said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

She looped her purse through her arm, collected her briefcase containing invoices she'd been meaning to look over. "Can you lock the front door on your way out?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks." Adrenaline pulsed through her, she turned to leave then stopped. Facing Tony, she gave him a smile. She knew what she was about to say would be a huge mistake, a step in the wrong direction and a sure disaster…but she spoke it anyway. "Can I see you tonight?"

He flashed her a grin. "Count on it."

Careless pleasure had washed through her over his response. Then she'd dashed out of the house.

Her day proceeded at a frantic pace, the pressures of running a floral shop during a holiday really weighing her down. She barely had a moment to reflect on last night and how she felt about it.

Rather than spend a spare thought on the subject, she ran through the day getting things done. She rescheduled the meeting, placed orders, connected with her glass supplier, had to balance those invoices and pay bills. By closing time, she was exhausted.

Before pulling into her driveway at dusk, she glanced at Tony's house. The interior lights were on.

Last night had been incredible, amazing. She'd never felt so alive, so fulfilled. Just as she feared—or at the very least had tried to deny, there had been an emotional connection between a man and a woman. She supposed there simply was no sexual intimacy for her that wouldn't involve her heart.

Thinking about it, she realized she didn't want to be a one-night stand. She wanted more than that with him.

Conflict ran through her, sharp and painful. The picture was clear, but she preferred looking at the cloudy version. If she didn't view the whole truth, she could still see him, still fit herself in his arms…sleep next to him.

Natalie entered her home and switched on the lights.

In the kitchen, a bottle of wine sat on the island coun-tertop. It was one of her bottles. Tony must have taken it out of the wine rack. A note was taped to the bottle's front.

Bring this over when you get home.

Climbing the stairs, Natalie went into her bedroom and noticed the bed. It was made. The sheets had been rumpled this morning. Now the duvet was pulled up, the pillows plumped. Everything nice and neat as if two people hadn't slept together in it last night.

She took a shower and rinsed off makeup and the day's stress. She toweled dry, smoothed a light coat of moisturizer on her skin, then picked out a pair of jeans and a comfy sweater to wear.

Back downstairs, she snagged the bottle of wine, locked the front door behind her and walked across the street.

Lantern lights softly glowed from everyone's front yard, brightening her path. She knocked on Tony's door, feeling an instant's pleasure when he opened it and she saw him.

His height dominated the space, his dark hair appearing a little spiky and shorter since this morning. .

"Did you get a haircut?"

His masculine chin rose, that familiar gesture he made with a killer white smile. "Yeah."

"I noticed. I notice everything about you."

He wore dark jeans, a long-sleeved, black knit shirt that stretched over his chest and arms. He dressed in an effective manner; maybe he didn't see that the fit of a shirt emphasized all the muscles beneath it, but she did.

How did simply looking at him stir heat in her? Make her want to pull that shirt off over his head and…

She walked in, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, the bottle of wine dangling loosely in her grasp.

He kissed her back, a greeting that made her forget the busy pace of her day. Her arms tightened around him and she felt as if she were home.

The slow and hot punch of the kiss caused air to clog in her lungs, making breathing an effort. He tasted like cinnamon. The house smelled like something had been baking. A sugary sweetness that still lingered on Tony's lips.

"What have you been eating?" she asked against his mouth.

"Those cinnamon rolls out of the can."

She smiled against his lips. "Really?"

"I know how to cook."

"Is cracking open a can actually cooking?" She softly laughed, the vibration of her mouth against his sending a dart of heat through her.

He didn't reply, merely kissed her thoroughly until she felt unsteady on her feet. Passion roused in her so profoundly it almost troubled her that she could be affected this way by him.

When she looked into his eyes she was hoping she'd find a shadow of fear or hesitation to mirror her own. But it wasn't there. He was still confident as ever, the brown eyes gazing at her hooded and comfortable, if not sexual, along with that easy grin.

"What?" he asked, his forehead touching hers as he looked at her so very closely.

"You scare me," she uttered in a half whisper. Then repeated it just to make sure he heard her. "You scare me."

His heart drummed fast; she could feel it next to hers. He took her chin in his fingers, lifted it so that she was looking directly at him when he said, "You scare me, too."

"I do?"

"Hell, yeah."

She wasn't expecting him to say that. "I thought you knew what you were doing."

"Not even close. I like you, Natalie. I can see myself with you, but I know it's taking a chance to give you my heart. You're set one way and I'm set the other. I keep thinking there's got to be middle ground."

"I don't think there is."

"I'd like to keep trying to figure it out."

"But what if we do something stupid?"

"Like what?"

"Like…"