For Better or Worse
Page 60Josh was willing to bet that Heather’s mother was a nice enough lady, but that maybe the older woman didn’t quite realize how important her recognition of Heather’s success was to Heather.
As he watched her roam around the platform, laughing at something her mom said, he itched to hug her and tell her that she was enough, just as she was.
No, not enough.
That she was exceptional. Successful and driven and funny and bright.
And hot.
The thought of keeping his hands to himself where she was concerned was growing less and less appealing than it had been yesterday when he’d come up with the dumb plan.
The train approached, and Heather dropped her phone in her purse and came to join him as he picked up the bags.
“Everything good?” he asked.
Heather shrugged. “Yeah. I thought she had to work today, but I guess she opted to take it off after all, so that’s good. She and a friend hung out, watched Julia Roberts movies.”
But she seemed in a happy enough mood as they found two seats together on the train, both content to wallow in the silent joy of full bellies and a long weekend ahead.
It was enough, he thought as he settled more comfortably in his seat. Enough to be her friend.
And then he felt something nudge his shoulder.
It was Heather’s head. She’d fallen asleep.
He smiled, shifting slightly to be at a better height for her, carefully cupping her cheek and positioning her head more firmly against his shoulder so it didn’t do that awkward lolling around thing.
She let out a happy little sigh, and Josh let his hand linger on her face, just for a second.
It was enough, he thought again.
It had to be.
I TOLD YOU, YOU were drooly,” he said, wiping at his shoulder as they climbed the steps toward their respective apartments. “I have dried spit on my shoulder.”
“You do not,” Heather retorted, not looking back.
He probably did.
She would have felt awkward about waking up with her head nestled under his chin, her arm looped over his waist, with his around her shoulder.
But since this was Josh, he’d quickly made a joke about her snoring and was now complaining about her drool.
Two topics that definitely ensured any intimacy between them was purely platonic and wildly unsexy. And although a part of her wanted him to see her as a woman, she was too high on the warm fuzzies of the day to let his indifference to her lady bits get to her.
Heather felt horribly disloyal to her mom for having the thought, but today’s Thanksgiving had been the type of holiday she’d dreamed about on the Thanksgivings spent at the diner when her mom had to work, picking at green beans from a can and gravy that had congealed on the plate long before it had been set in front of her.
The family element had been exactly right, too. The gentle bickering, the exasperation, and the love. So much love. It had been everywhere, from the way Josh had gently coaxed smiles from his grumpy grandma to the way Josh’s parents had snuck gooey, lovesick looks across the table.
When they reached their respective front doors, Heather made a grab for one of the bags and peeked inside. “Is this the one with pie in it?”
He glanced down into his own bag and gave her a victorious grin. “Nope. You’ve got the carrots and potatoes. I’ve got the pie.”
She held out the bag to him. “Trade.”
“Hell no. I want a piece of this pie just as badly as you do. Maybe with a cup of really excellent coffee.”
She groaned. “You know I can’t handle it when you talk dirty.”
Josh stepped closer and wiggled his eyebrows, lowering his voice to a husky tone. “Can you smell it? All those dark roast beans? A hit of smoke, a little bit of chocolate. The way its rich bitterness rolls over your tongue, mingling with the sweetness of the pumpkin pie.”
“So this is how you coax women into your apartment? Because it’s totally working,” Heather said with a whimper.