Cinnamon Roll Set Up (Cinnamon Rolls and Pumpkin Spice)

18. Georgia

Chapter 18

Georgia

I need some clarity. I need to get my head on straight. I need a little self-care.

I need some girls’ time.

When Harper texted with an invite to Slice of Delight with her sister, I said please and thank you and counted down the hours. Five minutes ago, I closed up Dogeared for the night and headed out into the crisp fall evening.

I lie. It’s still plenty warm here. September and October usually bring a couple of fake falls to trick us with chilly temperatures, swiftly followed by oppressive warmth. Actual cool weather will hit sometime around November.

Most of the shops on Center Street are decked out for autumn despite the balmy weather. A couple of them are getting ready to switch over to Halloween, and one very impatient thrift store already has a Christmas window up. Thanksgiving, of course, is completely forgotten.

Eliza flags me down as I dash across Center Street. “Jaywalking is a crime, you know.”

I laugh at her cheeky greeting. “Then everyone in Magnolia Ridge should be behind bars. ”

“That’s our town slogan.” She wraps an arm around me in a quick hug.

“Did you have business down here tonight?” I ask.

Eliza owns a handmade soap company. She sells them in boutique stores all over the area, and a couple of the independent lodges. She’s basically a one-woman success story.

“Nah. I just wanted to harass my husband before he finished up in the office.” She leans closer. “And by harass , I mean make out on his desk .”

One thing to know about Eliza—she has zero shame. I love that about her.

“Hey, look who it is.” She gestures at the floor-to-ceiling shop window next to us.

I look up and stumble over my own feet. It’s Rumble Room, the MMA and kickboxing studio where Sam and Harper sometimes take classes. Owen’s sparring on the other side of the glass.

With Miles .

My Miles. He’s throwing jabs and punches at the beefy bearded trainer like he’s Captain America gearing up to save the world. And—holy cow. He does a perfect roundhouse kick right before my eyes.

Words fail me. My brain is stuck on my best friend in workout clothes, his athletic tee plastered to his chest from sweat, tossing out punches so gracefully. And from the way Owen braces himself, maybe even brutally.

Miles is the bookish guy. The writer guy. He is not the kickboxing until he’s ready to drop a dude…guy.

Except, clearly he is. He’s good at this. Like, film it and watch it on replay good. Which I have enough respect, both self- and Miles-centric, not to do. Even though I so, so want to because tomorrow I will not believe I witnessed this.

Owen nods at him, and it looks like they’ve called it a night. They’re winded and sweaty but grinning hard. Miles is having the time of his life in there.

Then, in a move I’ll be replaying in my dreams, he swiftly pulls his shirt over his head. He wipes it down his chest, shifts to the side like he’s about to leave the sparring area, and looks up.

Right. At. Me.

My stomach rolls so hard, I might be having an out-of-body experience. Now I know how Elizabeth Bennett felt when she was caught snooping around Pemberley by Mr. Darcy. Except nobody actually told me, Hey, there’s definitely no chance you’ll see your best friend half naked tonight .

I have nowhere to hide, no way to play this off with a Ha ha, didn’t see you there . I can’t find the will to break this horrible eye contact with him, like he’s an exotic fish and I’m the weirdo tapping on the aquarium glass. Running away isn’t even an option.

Inexplicably, his mouth tips up into a grin, like he doesn’t mind that I’m shamelessly ogling him. Before I can process exactly what’s happening, he moves to the door and is out on the sidewalk in front of me.

Shirtless.

Is hyperventilating the one where you breathe too fast or too slow? I’m not getting enough oxygen. That’s all I know.

We’ve been friends for a while now, but we’ve never been shirtless friends. I have every intention of keeping my gaze above his neck. Collar bone at the lowest. But my eyes opt to do their own thing.

Which makes my heart rate do its own thing. Obviously, I knew he had a body beneath his clothes, but the difference between knowing it and seeing it is really dang wide. He’s slim, with nicely rounded shoulders and biceps and a flat stomach. There’s no defined six-pack, or eight-pack, or whatever the latest romance hero ideal is…but he still looks highly touchable .

I snap my gaze back up to his. I need to focus. This is just Miles.

Shirtless, shirtless Miles.

“Hey.” Simple and casual, but he sounds happy to see me. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Yup. I’m just going to dinner with—” I look around, only to realize Eliza left me high and dry. Naturally. “I’m meeting Harper and Eliza for pizza. What, um? What about you?”

He laughs. It’s pretty obvious what he’s up to. “Just working out.”

“I didn’t know you did all this.”

I gesture at him and almost graze his chest with my fingers. I don’t know what to do with myself here.

He has the grace to look sheepish. “Owen can be pretty persuasive.”

“You never told me you started doing kickboxing.”

He lifts a shoulder, but I don’t take the bait. I keep my gaze trained on his eyes and nothing else.

“Didn’t I?”

“No. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that. I definitely would have remembered it if I’d ever seen you—” And that is enough of that sentence.

“I didn’t think it was all that interesting.”

“Um, yes, it is. Everything about you is interesting.” Wait. That sounds creepy. “I mean, you learning to kick box is very interesting. And watching it?—”

Nope. Move along.

“The point is, I thought we told each other everything, and now I find out you’ve got all these secrets.” Kickboxing, game night, that stupid corn maze I’m trying not to think about.

I mean, really? Running through a corn maze to pick your man? Have some dignity .

His smile makes my stomach flip. That’s new, too. Does everything lately have to be so unexpected and unfamiliar?

“You’re right. No more secrets between us.”

Why, why is he doing the low voice thing again? And why does it have to make me so jittery?

“Good. Well.” I need to cut this short or my eyes are going to rebel and wander down his chest again, and this interaction has already been embarrassing enough. “I should catch up to the girls.”

“Have fun.”

I almost go in for a hug but I remember he’s shirtless and sweaty, and I stop myself. I end up sort of half-heartedly lurching at him without making contact. But I recover with a quick “See you tomorrow!” and dash off down the street.

I do not look back at him, even though everything inside me is dying to. If I start staring again, I might never stop.

I find Harper and Eliza in a booth at Slice of Delight, both looking especially smug. Eliza’s always kind of got that look on her face, but it’s a rare one for Harper. I slip in across from them and open the menu as if I’ve been right here with them the whole time.

“Everything good?” Eliza croons.

“Yes.” I don’t look up. Now my eyes are perfectly well behaved. Great timing.

“Are you sure?” Harper says. “You’re a little red in the face.”

I probably blush even harder.

“Need to dunk your head in an ice bath?” Eliza offers.

I drop the menu and stare at her. “How much did you tell Harper?”

“Hardly anything. Just that you saw your boss working out in the gym and kind of slipped into a trance staring at him.”

“Miles and I are just friends. ”

They both nod, but their eyes are bright as if they’re waiting for more. Or like they know more. Which I don’t like at all.

“And I’ve been setting him up on dates,” I add.

“What? Why?” Eliza looks ready to go on a rampage through the pizza place.

I sink against the booth. “Because it sounded like a good idea when I thought of it. But now…”

Now the idea of finding someone perfect for him makes me a little sick inside. Sending him off for his date with Josie was hard enough. I don’t know if I can do it again. I don’t want to do it again.

“Now it’s not such a good idea?” Harper finishes gently.

I can only shake my head. Too many emotions are battling it out behind my ribs right now. If I try to explain how I feel about Miles dating someone else to them in actual human words, I’ll wind up crying over my pizza.

“Does he really want you to set him up?” Eliza asks.

“No. I was steamrolling him into it.” Because I’m such a good friend.

I kind of want to strangle that sentence.

“And he doesn’t know how you feel?” Harper asks.

I shake my head again. “I don’t even know how I feel.”

Except, I think I do. It’s like I’d kept all my emotions behind this dirty, smudged glass, and little by little, I’ve been washing the gunk away. Maybe I don’t quite see everything clearly yet, but it’s taking a very particular shape.

“I don’t know how to do relationships. My parents killed theirs so spectacularly, I don’t know how a healthy one even works.”

“You’ve seen us.” Harper’s smile turns just a touch self-conscious.

Yeah, I’ve seen them.

“We can be your good examples. ”

I wrinkle my nose. “My brother? Yuck.”

“Your brother is my biggest fan and loudest cheerleader. He looks out for me when I’m too tired or too distracted to do it myself. He takes care of me in big and small ways.” She gets this wistful look on her face I recognize all too well. “He’s my champion. So yes, he can be your good example.”

She’s not wrong. They are stupidly in love. Sometimes it makes my chest ache to see that play out in words and actions. Even in my earliest memories, Mom and Dad were never like that. Sam would walk through fire to get to Harper—and she would do exactly the same for him.

Ugh. Fine. Maybe Sam is a good example after all.

“And look, I was a mess when Dean fell in love with me.” Eliza grins at me, unashamed. “And he still decided to come alongside me and fight for me and encourage me and love the heck out of me. You don’t have to know how to do it to love somebody. You just do.”

I want to tell her that’s terrible advice, but it actually kind of makes me feel better. Just do.

“And let me tell you.” She leans forward like she’s ready to spill all the juicy bits. “Being friends doesn’t mean you can’t get together. It’s basically the number one requirement to becoming anything more.”

My heart squeezes so hard, I can’t tell if I’m comforted or terrified.