When in Rome

“Are you ready?” I ask Amelia as we both round the truck and stand shoulder to shoulder, facing the town. She is wearing tight checkered capris today with a white tank top tucked in (which I was lucky enough to watch her slip into earlier this morning). Her long braid hangs over the front of her shoulder, and the fabric of her shirt fits her smooth curves like a second skin. I have to tuck my hands into my pockets to keep from sliding them all over her out here in broad daylight.

“Should I be worried or something?” The tone of her voice, paired with the skeptical look in her eyes, tells me she thinks this town is innocent and harmless. So naive.

I tilt her chin up to look away from the town and at me instead. She has faint charcoal-colored shadows under her eyes that make me smile, because I helped put them there. But I can’t think about last night again. I already have too much residual desire I’m trying to stuff back down. This morning after a shower (together, nudge nudge wink wink) we both drank our coffees on the porch while reading our separate books until it was time to come in to work. Of course she tried to get me to read to her aloud from mine, but I refused because it’s too much fun watching Amelia pout. Also I’ve wavered on all my other resolutions concerning her, and I want to keep at least one of them.

“Never underestimate this town’s power to sense gossip.”

Her eyes widen. “What does that mean?”

“It means, they are all going to be waiting for us. They’ll feel that there is something new between us.”

She stares at me with nothing but sheer amusement now. She’s sure I’m blowing this out of proportion. “I think you need to get out of this town more.” She taps the side brim of the baseball hat I’m wearing. “It’s getting to your head.”

I catch her finger with mine and lower it to my side, before shifting so I can lace my fingers with hers. I don’t think it should feel as incredible as it does. I’ve never felt this with anyone before. I’ve never wanted to hold a woman’s hand just for the hell of it. I didn’t realize I was an affectionate kind of guy until I met Amelia and now all I want to do is hold her and snuggle her and kiss her and touch her. I almost don’t recognize myself.

“Maybe you’re right.” This ridiculous town seems like a comfortable excuse to blame for a lot of things. “Now wipe that sunshine smile off your face and look a little less approachable,” I say as we start walking toward the hardware store.

“Like this?” Her smile drops into a clown’s frown. It’s so over the top she looks terrifying.

“Perfect.”

As we approach the hardware shop, Phil and Todd are outside just as expected. One is sweeping, and the other is writing on the chalk sign hammers 50% off!

“Looks pretty harmless to me,” Amelia says with a sassy lilt to her voice. I smirk and we continue walking.

Phil looks up from his task of sweeping and his eyes shift down to Amelia’s and my intertwined hands. He practically sparkles with excitement. “Well, good morning, you two. Fine day we’re having, isn’t it?”

“Just dandy,” I say sarcastically, picking up our pace.

“Easy,” Amelia warns me in a whisper. “I didn’t wear the right shoes to run a marathon today.” I’ll pick her up and carry her over my shoulder if I have to. She sees me contemplating it as my gaze sweeps over her head to toe and she adds, “Don’t even think about it.”

Phil is trying to form a barrier with his body so we can’t get by. “Ah yes. Dandy is the word for it. The sun…it’s…” The closer we get, the more frantic Phil’s conversation becomes. And then, just before we pass him, the man takes his broom and holds it out like a gate. “Whoa, hold your horses there, youngins. Let’s talk a little. Shoot the breeze! What’s new?”

Amelia fills her naive lungs full of gossip-producing air that will make my life a living hell, so I speak before she can. “Thinking of adding a new pie to the menu.”

It’s clear by the look on Phil’s face that this is not the information he was after, but he’s not disinterested. He lifts a bushy brow. “Oh? What’s it gonna be?”

“It’ll have a honey base. I’ll call it Mind Your Own Damn Beeswax.” Amelia stifles a laugh in her throat after my stoic delivery. Phil’s face drops into something reprimanding. I lift the broomstick handle like it’s a carriage door and gesture for Amelia to walk under before me.

“But…but…” Behind us Phil is sputtering, trying to stall us. “Wait! Have you seen the big sale we’re having? Tell him, Todd!”

Poor Todd. His voice shakes a little. “Right! There’s a sale. A big one. On hammers!”

Amelia looks up at me, her round puppy eyes telling me she’s wavering. “I have to go and buy a hammer. I have to, Noah. Just listen to them.”

I tighten my hold on her hand. “Stay strong. This is the least of it.”

She sets her chin forward and keeps walking, but she’s not happy about it. Right before we make it to the next store, I take a sharp turn and steer us across the street.

“What are we doing now?” she asks, slightly out of breath. The urge to carry her surfaces again.

“Avoiding Harriet.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s scary, that’s why, and she’ll go on and on about your pond.”

“My p—Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“For the best,” I say as we pass under another shop awning. The door behind us opens, the cheery bell chiming. “Shit,” I mumble. “Walk faster.”

“NOAH!” Oh man. That’s Gemma.

Amelia’s head tilts in preparation for looking behind her, but I step closer to her, meshing our shoulders together so she can’t. “Don’t look back. She’ll trap you with her eyes.”

Gemma raises her voice. “NOAH WALKER I KNOW YOU HEAR ME!”

“Who is that?” Amelia whispers.

“Gemma.”

Amelia expels a breath. “There’s so many busybodies in this town it’s getting difficult to keep them all straight.”

“She owns the quilting shop. She’s in cahoots with Harriet, though, so you can’t trust her.”

“Noah, you can’t just ignore her. That’s rude.”

“I’ll send her a free pie later. She’ll get over it.”

Amelia tucks her arm in mine as we cross the street again to get to the shop. “Such a surly grump.” She says it sweetly with a little nuzzle of her face against my outer arm.

I pull out the shop key and unlock the door, going about my morning business as usual. I flick on the lights. Pull the barstools off the table. Head into the back to turn on the ovens. And then when I realize Amelia isn’t with me anymore, I look to the front of the shop and find her standing in the middle of the room, looking completely shaken. Her eyes are a little dazed and I can feel the emotions swarming around her.

“Amelia?” I ask cautiously.

“I don’t want to go back,” she says, her eyes snapping to me. “I’m going to live here now. No more celebrity life for me. Cancel the tour. I’m done with music.”