When You Look at Me (A Pleasant Gap Romance Book 2)

by Pepper Basham

  If money remained a non-issue, Little One and school could be her focus, and by December, she’d have her degree in business with an emphasis in hospitality management.

  And then? She rubbed her belly. She’d make her dreams come true, even with a little person in tow. Others had done it before. So could she.

  A note with her name on it waited on the communication board. She knew that handwriting.

  Henry.

  Heat rose up her neck chasing a few happy tingles. She shot a look over her shoulder, to check for onlookers, and then tugged the folded paper from its pinned place. He’d been finishing up the back room of the kitchen with her dad all morning, and from the sound of it, Henry had volunteered to help.

  Beneath her dad’s overall rough and sometimes shocking personality, beat a tender heart that most people noticed if they looked hard enough. As observant as Henry was, she’d guess he’d somehow figured it out. Besides, from bits and pieces he’d mentioned about his own family, he missed having his dad and grandfather as older male influences. Even though her dad certainly wasn’t a refined British businessman, he gave off solid mentor vibes.

  Well, to those brave enough to stick around.

  Julia unfolded the paper with its short note inside.

  It takes faith to see beyond the storm.

  It takes courage to continue smiling in its midst.

  Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to learn from your courage yesterday.

  Henry

  Her courage? She reread the note. How had he seen courage in her? If anything, he was the brave one for working with her dad then going with her to a house in the middle of nowhere to label furniture and undergo a mouse attack.

  She chuckled, pressing the note to her chest, and her gaze fell to her faded gray slip-on shoes. She sighed. Despite the fact that breathing had become a little easier over the last few days, she desperately missed wearing her cute shoes. Sure, her feet slid into personality-less slip-on shoes easier than lace-up boots, and trying to navigate heels at this state was…humorous, at best, but a pair of cute shoes could make a girl feel braver. Seize-the-day brave.

  Shoes had that kind of power—at least, that’s what Sophie said.

  Julia placed the folded note into her pocket and waddled up the stairs, a laundry basket positioned against her hip. She gathered a few towels from her bedroom, then walked through the sitting room to the other apartment. The out sign hung from the doorknob, but Julia knocked just in case. Some things you couldn’t un-see.

  No answer. Great.

  She used her master key to unlock the door, and with a gentle push, entered the large apartment. The usual scent of honey and peaches from the cleaning supplies she and Amy used mingled with two more scents: the spicy-leather cologne Wes wore and the softer hints of Henry’s vanilla.

  She drew in a deep breath and scanned the room with fresh eyes. As of Monday, these rooms, this bakery, had become Amy’s. Paired with Aunt Millie’s inheritance, Julia finally had the freedom, both financially and time-wise, to pursue her long-held dream. And now, after months of healing and fighting for hope, she believed she could.

  She stepped across the richly colored Persian rug in the living area of the apartment and headed straight for the small closet just outside the shared bathroom, where guests left their soiled linens for pick up.

  Oh goodie, only a few towels. She already had enough additional weight—and pregnancy clumsiness—on her to keep her duly humble in navigating stairs with anything over twenty pounds. She took the soiled load, adjusted her basket on her hip, and stepped lightly—well, as lightly as a massively pregnant woman could—through the quiet sitting room.

  Pregnancy note: hide-and-seek gets pretty tricky in the third trimester of pregnancy.

  Just as she made it halfway across the room, the bathroom door swung open, revealing Henry…wearing only a towel. Julia jolted to a stop. Henry did the same.

  Her mouth dropped open, her throat went dry, and, despite her best efforts, her gaze took in every available piece of skin on his body. His shoulders looked broader in full exposure, and he had the defined abs of a man who probably worked on them. At least a little.

  The basket slipped from her hand and dropped with a slight thud onto the carpet, the sound shocking her into motion. “I…I thought you were downstairs helping Dad.”

  Blinking was his only response.

  She pointed back toward the door, working up her defense. “I…I knocked first.”

  His frozen stance began to thaw, drawing her gaze to the muscles flexing in his chest. She swallowed the lump in her throat and then turned her gaze toward the floor, after taking inventory of his very fine self one more time.

  Get a hold of yourself, girl!

  Oh have mercy! She’d not allowed her mind to think of Henry in…this kind of romantic way. But a towel scene definitely sent her thoughts zip-lining across friendship valley to the possibilities on the other side.

  He folded his arms across his chest—there went those butterflies again—but then must have thought better of letting go of the towel because he gripped the knotted front at his waist and cleared his throat.

  Nope. There was nothing at all wrong with Henry’s physique. His British food worked just fine, chest hair or otherwise.

  “I didn’t hear.” He tugged at the earbud cord she hadn’t noticed because of…well…distractions and gestured toward his chin. “Shaving.”

  “Right.” Her gaze dropped to his newly-smooth chin, still a little damp from his efforts. How had she never noticed his excellent chin? She took a step back and held in a whimper as heat climbed up her body and landed with fever-like potency on her face. “The…the out sign. It was still up on the door.”

  “I…I forgot it was hanging up. After finishing with your father I came straight to shower.” He ran his free hand through his damp hair, upsetting his waves and releasing that Clark Kent curl over his forehead again. The poor man seemed almost as discombobulated as she was.

  Julia couldn’t collect her thoughts at all while Henry’s free hand continued its agitated wandering. She just kept staring—and unintentionally appreciating—his…self.

  His roaming hand ended up on his hip as if he were going for a nonchalant look. Oh heavens, there was nothing nonchalant about this situation. Heat rose so hot into Julia’s face that sweat began to bead on her forehead.

  Move, feet. Look away, eyes.

  Neither moved. Henry looked at her, his brow furrowed over the questions in his eyes. Had he said something to her?

  Shower. Half-clad man. The sign on the door! Oh yes! He’d forgotten. “Of course.” Julia cleared her throat and bent to snatch the basket she’d dropped in her half-naked-man wonderment. “I came to collect your used towels.” Her gaze dropped to the one around his waist. “Um…not that towel, of course, but…um….the other ones.”

  “Allow me.”

  Words—grateful, protesting, or otherwise—refused to leave her dry throat as he approached. He kept a firm hold on the towel around his waist while bending at the knees to grab her basket and hand it to her. Then, avoiding eye contact, he moved the spilled soiled towels from the floor and placed them in the basket in her arms, his nearness flooding all of her hyperactive senses in freshly clean vanilla-spice.

  And everything nice.

  Heaven help her! She’d never see Henry Wright, towels, or vanilla the same way again.

  Every inch of skin on her body lit with awareness, but he didn’t stay close for long, backing away as quickly as he’d come, his attention riveted on the towels in her arms. That was a good thing because, maybe, if he kept his focus on the dirty laundry he wouldn’t notice how much she fought to look everywhere except his very manly chest.

  Oh, oh, oh! Superman lived under his Clark Kent persona.

  She shook her head to clear the thought and continued moving toward the door. “Th-thank you.”

  Good grief! It wasn’t like she’d never seen a shirtless man befor
e.

  Just not so close. And somehow the fact it was Henry made it even more…something, but she wasn’t sure quite what. Good…ish? Her gaze fell back to his skin. Yep, definitely good. She shook away the thought and took a step back. “So...um…I’ll just go.”

  And with that she took a quick turn…and collided with the closed door.

  She rolled her eyes heavenward and tossed a shaky grin over her shoulder. “The door’s closed.” She groaned and almost pressed her forehead against it in surrender. Obvious much?

  “Bye,” she murmured as she flung open the door and rushed from the room.

  She didn’t stop until she made it into the privacy of the stairwell, and then the entire scene replayed in her head in full cheek-burning delight. Her burgeoning grin turned into a full laugh she hoped Henry didn’t hear, but then again, maybe he was laughing a little too.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “All right, I ain’t shootin’ with British boys no more.”

  Nate Jenkins sat at the head of the table for Sunday lunch, his moustache a bit crinkled from his grimace. Henry almost grinned. The man sounded a great deal of thunder without the storm. Though somewhat less refined, Nate reminded Henry of his grandfather, whose boorish personality had concealed a warm heart. Julia’s father still kept Henry a little on edge, but he’d seen beneath the exterior and found an unlikely…friend. Or at least a friendly acquaintance with potential.

  Speaking of seeing beneath the exterior…

  Henry’s attention slipped to Julia in her usual place at the massive table—across from him and a few seats down. Something had shifted between them since yesterday’s towel fiasco, and he didn’t like it. Throughout the Sunday church service, she’d barely made eye contact, let alone spoken to him, but her almost ethereal look in her pale blue dress had succeeded in distracting him more than once from the pastor’s sermon. It fluttered around her like the airy whimsical tone of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 4, adding to her fairy-like aura. The blend of memory and music produced a warm cadence of rightness in his chest.

  And she’d agreed to be his friend. Yes, he’d nurture that friendship and hold out a hope for more. He shot a look heavenward. He’d not offer one complaint if God gave him more.

  “So, Henry outshot you just like Wes did when he visited the first time.” Greg chuckled at Henry’s side, but Nate fired a dangerous look, complete with furrowed brow.

  “As I recall”—the patriarch pointed his fork— “me and Fancy Pants tied at our shooting competition.”

  “Which means it hurts all the more that Henry actually beat you.” Eisley nudged Henry’s shoulder and tagged on a wink, inspiring a full-on smile from Henry as he added some salad to his plate.

  “Now, now,” Nate offered in a consolatory tone. “Henry took my best gun.”

  Eisley laughed. “Are you serious, Dad? Your best gun?”

  “Dad”—Greg’s eyebrow raised to his hairline— “that’s stretchin’ it even for you.”

  “Not making excuses now, are we, Old Bean,” Wes added through a chuckle.

  Despite his growling retort to his future son-in-law, Nate’s grin slipped into view beneath his dark moustache, and he waved his fork in Henry’s direction. “Those quiet ones. They’re usually hidin’ somethin’.”

  “Like excellent aim?”

  Nate glared at Rachel and sniffed, then reached for another piece of grilled chicken from the dish in the middle of the table. “Henry’s got some top-notch skills hidin’ underneath all that hoity-toity talk and pretty clothes.”

  “Yep, enough skills and muscle to take you on, Dad.” Eisley laughed again and turned to give Emily another helping of potatoes.

  “Good shootin’ don’t mean good muscles.” The undeniable twinkle took some of the potency out of the glare Nate sent Henry.

  A sudden cough erupted from across the table. Henry looked up and met Julia’s wide-eyed gaze. With her pinched-lipped expression in the forefront of his mind, he replayed the turn of the conversation.

  His smile tipped. He was pretty sure he knew where her thoughts dove.

  His throat tickled with a sudden urge to laugh even as heat crawled into his cheeks. He well-remembered yesterday, and though awkwardness had lathered the entire scene, a surprising realization had occurred—Julia liked what she’d seen in him. He’d never been the sort to seek attention, but as her gaze had taken him in, something inside of him gave way to believe in the impossible. For the first time in his memory, he’d felt very heroic indeed.

  He wanted her to know him, to see him for who he was, and…maybe…

  “I feel certain Henry will only keep surprising you, Nate.” Wes gave him an encouraging nod.

  Henry gave his friend a nod in gratitude for the encouragement and then slid his gaze back to Julia. She’d raised a napkin to her mouth, and from the mirth dancing in her eyes, she was likely trying to hide a grin of her own behind the fabric.

  “I’ll get you on a roof, Twinkle Toes,” Nate went on. “Then we’ll see how much your manliness shows.”

  The cough exploded again, and this time Julia’s struggling smile burst wide before she covered it with her napkin.

  “I reckon your manliness has Julia all choked up, Henry.” Greg nudged his shoulder. “Next thing you know, Dad’ll start pushin’ chest-hair-growin’ food on you again.”

  Julia’s eyes widened and her cough took a strangled turn as she stood from the table. “Dessert anyone?”

  She rushed toward the kitchen, and Henry cleared his throat to appease the growing laughter, shrugging a shoulder at Eisley as she silently questioned him with her raised eyebrow.

  “You sure Julia can manage those pies on her own, Daddy?” Julia’s older sister kept her focus on Henry, the glimmer in her hazel eyes dancing with enough mischief to hint at her intentions.

  Pixies ran wild in this family.

  Nate looked up and his brow crinkled as he took in what she said. “Naw, she don’t need to tote around all those pies by herself.” His gaze narrowed on Henry, then he waved his fork as he spoke. “Go help her, Twinkle Toes. Y’all can talk music or something’ fancy like that.”

  “Of course.” Henry tried not to get up from the table with too much enthusiasm, catching Wes’s snicker as he passed by him.

  Julia stood by the counter in the middle of the kitchen, leaning forward, her gentle chuckle shaking her shoulders as her hair fell down her back in a rain of gold. His fingers tingled with a desire to run his hands through those silky strands, but he shook them out at his sides and stepped forward.

  “I’ve been sent to help with the pies.”

  She spun around so fast that she wavered in her balance, leaning to her left as the weight from her belly threatened to pull her horizontal. He jumped to the rescue, steadying her with a hand to her arm. A tear that escaped during her chuckling fit trailed down her cheek, her smile fading from every part of her face except her eyes. “I’m pregnant, not helpless.”

  “I would never accuse you of being helpless, but I must remain on your good side.”

  Her brow rose like a question mark.

  “You’re the only person here who has offered to protect me from rebel mice.”

  Her smile spread wide with another laugh. “Well, I suppose I should allow you to help me then, if it’s in payment for possible services rendered.”

  “Our secret, of course.” He released his hold on her arm and lowered his voice. “I’d never want your father to find out that particular weakness of mine. I have a feeling it could be detrimental to my current manliness status.”

  Her laugh burst out again, a sound inspiring his own, until she finally sighed. “Oh Henry, I’m so sorry about yesterday.”

  He pushed his hands in his pockets, studying her through narrowed eyes. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

  Her nose crinkled with an adorable grimace. Yes, he was a lost cause. Utterly and completely. And he’d never been happier. Now, how did one go about telling
a woman he’d just met that he was beginning to see her in his future? And long-term at that.

  She placed her face in her hands. “It was so embarrassing to see you like that.” Her fingers curled to almost touch her chin, revealing wide-eyes peeking up at him. “Not that there was anything wrong with what I saw. It was nice.” She cringed then closed her eyes, waving one hand in the air as if she might make the words disappear, before returning her face to her hands. “Um…never mind.”

  He stood even taller and gently touched her arm, drawing her gaze from behind her hands. Her cheeks glowed with a beautiful rose color. “It was an honest mistake, Julia. No harm done.”

  “I’m glad. I’d hate to cause any awkwardness between us when we’ve just started becoming friends.” She shrugged. “Well, okay, it was already awkward.”

  “Manageably so.”

  She studied him and lowered her hands to the counter. “Good, then. That’s good.”

  He hoped his smile softened the awkwardness lingering around them. “And we still have a date for Tuesday?”

  “A…a date?”

  He replayed his words. Date! He stifled a growl. So much for decreasing the awkwardness levels…and right after he’d felt so heroic too. “Um, I meant plans… plans to return to your aunt’s house.”

  Her laugh tumbled out on a musical lilt. “Oh, yes. If you’re still interested.”

  There was something so endearing about her nervous embarrassment, her ready kindness, tugging his future ever closer to her hold. Only God knew how long it would take her heart to heal after her past. Only God knew how they’d manage a long-distance relationship across an ocean.

  But Henry knew one thing most assuredly: winning Julia Jenkins’s heart was worth the wait. “Of course I’m interested.”

  Their gazes held for one second longer than necessary, offering him another taste of hope before animated voices from the other room broke their connection. “Great.” She gestured toward the pies, her cheeks still a ruddy hue, but his doubts gratefully dispelled. “Sounds like the natives need pie.”

  “Hungry natives.” He took a pie in each hand. “The scariest kind.”