Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)

by Sarah Adams

To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow. —Audrey Hepburn

I am the quiet one in my family. The one with her nose always in a book because she prefers worlds where she doesn’t have to interact with other humans. It’s so much easier to read about relationships than to foster them. Less dangerous too. I can’t offend anyone written into a book. I can’t say the wrong thing. And book characters don’t make judgments about me.

In a fit of panic, I blurt the first thing that comes to my head. “I want to get married.”

Unfortunately, I arrive back at the table just in time to hear John finishing up a phone call that he doesn’t intend for me to hear. “Yeah, I’m telling you she’s so unbelievably boring. And just sort of awkward and weird. Like zero personality.” He listens to the person on the other end of the line. “I mean, yeah, I guess she’s prettyish, but I don’t even want to try to hook up with her tonight because she’s so dull. So just call me in five minutes with an emergency. Okay, yeah. Thanks.” My cheeks flame. The lady at the table next to us heard the whole thing and gives me Pity Eyes. I hate Pity Eyes. I’d rather she’d laugh. I can handle laughter. My siblings are professional teasers, so I’ve been conditioned to laugh my way through life. Pity—no.

“A book is going to be fun?” I chuckle as we continue to walk. “Are you one of those nonreaders? The movie is never better, I assure you.” “I wouldn’t say I’m a nonreader. Reading just hasn’t been on my radar before.” “But now it is?” I ask hopefully, glancing at him. “Maybe.” He smirks.

All I know is that somehow, it’s easy.

I smile. “And I hope you have fun with Gretchen in all your amorous adventures.” Oh gosh. I grimace when Will’s eyes widen. If it’s not abundantly clear already, I’m a virgin. Just feels important to note in this moment. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. Sorry. Residual first date awkwardness. I’m going to go before I tell you about the reproduction of flowers.” Will doesn’t cringe or look away. He smiles fully and it slips right into the fleshy part of my heart, inflating it like an emergency flotation device. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around town, Annie.” “I guess you will.” Then I hop up into my truck. But I hop a little too high and slam my head on the doorframe.

During my stint working in Rome, Kentucky, it was always difficult to not pay attention to the youngest Walker sister. The sweet one, everyone says. The quiet one. The cute one. I’ve heard folks in that town refer to Annie as every possible synonym of those words—but never once did they give her the adjective that always sprung into my head when I saw her: gorgeous.

Literally chills. Screaming.

I look up, gasp, and throw my book over my shoulder, somewhere into the abyss of my storage room. There is a man standing in my shop with a roguish smile and a sleeve of tattoos. “Hi,” says Will Griffin looking far too amused. “Am I interrupting something?” “No.” I answer too quickly. He smiles curiously. “But you did just throw a book behind you, right?” “No.” Again, too quick. I swallow and tell my skin to stop boiling. “But if I did—hypothetically speaking—it would be because I don’t want you to know what book I’m reading. So please don’t ask any more questions.”

“Annie. Show me the letter.” Will’s tone is calculatingly easy and his smile is dripping with seduction. He’s baiting me. I don’t know what comes over me, but before I can stop myself, the words, “You can’t make me,” fly out of my mouth. His smile melts into something roguish and challenging. “Wanna bet?”

And even more, I don’t want to see any part of Annie change. Not a single thing. I’ve never met anyone like her before—and it would be a damn shame for her to morph into some popular social construct of what a woman should be like on dates. I hate it. If some jackass doesn’t take the time to peel back her layers of nervousness to find out who she really is, he doesn’t deserve to have her when she’s at her most comfortable.

James clears his throat. “Why do I feel like I just missed out on an important opportunity?” Because you did. Now, get lost, she’s mine.

AHHHH

I’m tired of it. I’m so tired of that narrative looping around me day in and day out. I’m tired of everyone so neatly placing me in a box and tying a silk ribbon around it and then telling me to sit and stay.

“Don’t call me that, please,” I say, allowing myself a rare moment of honesty. “I don’t like it.” I’m not looking at Will, but I can still feel his gaze. And then I can feel his fingers lightly clasp my elbow as if he were afraid I was about to drift off, and he needed to keep me there beside him. “Annie. I’m sorry.” His voice is low and genuine. “I didn’t mean it in a negative way.”

I got teary eyed lol. Thats so sweet. Hes so understanding

“It feels like they’re saying I don’t have as much substance as everyone else. That because I’m sweet, I don’t have as much to offer. I constantly feel underestimated, and I’m so tired of it.” Will’s thumb glides tenderly against my skin. His voice drops until it’s intimately quiet. “I won’t do it again.” I breathe out. How was that so easy? I’ve always had trouble telling people the truth of what I’m feeling when I know it’s going to be uncomfortable for them to hear—so I usually just keep it bottled up. But I want Will to know what’s actually happening beneath the surface.

“I just want to do something for myself for a while—is that bad? It feels wrong.”

I remember thinking how incredibly rebellious she was. Not going to church?! Gasp! I asked her about it once and she just told me, “If I wanted to see a bunch of people wearing fancy clothes and acting fake, I’d go to a steeplechase.” That was that, and I call dibs on being Mabel when I grow up.

“But how?! What if you don’t feel confident?” I’m not sure I’ve ever felt confident a day in my life. “You fake it, Annie.” “No way.” I shake my head in disbelief. “You don’t fake that kind of confidence. All of that…” I circle my finger toward the door where the ghost of Annie who had never been seductively entranced by Will Griffin still lives, “…was natural for you.” He grins. “Not true. I was nervous.”

Will’s eyes narrow on my face, jaws clenching as he debates something. And then Will raises his hand level between us. That’s when I see it. His hand, that beautiful, strong, inked hand, is trembling. Will Griffin is shaking from touching me.

“If I waited until I felt confident to live my life and do the things I want to do, I’d never live.”

Will’s eyes feel like a caress on my face. “Because you told me not to call you Angel Annie. Because you wrestled me in your shop and then masterfully maneuvered me into being your dating coach. Because you read books about women who are pulled from their average lives and thrust into huge adventures where they thrive and find passion. Because even though you say you were relieved when you realized I lived in this old lady’s room, I could see the disappointment in your eyes.” His gaze drops to my lips, holds for two seconds, and comes back up again. “It seems to me, Annie, that you are just waiting for someone to give you permission to be yourself out loud.”

Without looking at me, he adds, “Tell you what, Annie. We’ll get you your committed relationship and your white picket fence, and if for some reason it doesn’t feel right and you want that adventure after all—” He looks at me. “Call me and I’ll come hold your hand on the flight.”

And the worst part is, I’m not just physically attracted to her. I can’t get enough of hearing her talk, and I want to read every book she has stashed away, and I want more than anything to take her on an adventure she’ll never forget.

“I guess you’ll want to know why she was sneaking into my room?” “Would you tell me if I asked?” “No,” I say honestly. “Annie asked me not to. So I have to keep my promise to her.” And for some reason, having Annie’s trust feels like holding the world. I never want to break it.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says loudly in her scratchy voice. “And the siding guy’s my nephew. Let me call him because it’ll be a hoot to tell him his handiwork didn’t hold up and then threaten to call his daddy.” She pauses and looks back at me with lifted brows. “Now get to work before Amelia fires you and you have to leave town and Annie behind.” The corner of her mouth twitches, and I think her brain is drawing all sorts of conclusions it shouldn’t. Ones with wedding bells and babies and deep, deep roots. “Nothing’s going to happen between me and Annie,” I say, just to make sure everyone is on the same page. She laughs. “You’re aware it’s only eight in the morning, right? That means it’s too early for your shit talking.

I have melted into a puddle in the booth. I am no longer human—just a blob of desire.

He holds my gaze. “You’re safe with me.”

“What the hell is going on in your head right now?” he asks, pulling me from my fantasy. My face flames. “Nothing. Let’s change the subject.” I squirm in my seat, suddenly feeling both hot and awkward. Will can never know what was going on in my head. He hums, grinning like he somehow already knows. I wad my napkin and throw it at him. “You don’t know.” “I think I do.” He circles a finger around his face. “You wear all your thoughts on your face. So openly. You were taking my clothes off in your head.” I gasp like an outraged matronly woman. “Absolutely not.” His eyes sparkle. “How naked did you get me? All the way or just to my underwear?” I bury my face in my hands. “Moving on! What’s next?”

“Stop!” I say, laughing and stretching my foot under the table to push his knee. Chuckling, he captures my ankle instead of letting me kick him. His thumb glides softly across the tender skin of my ankle and at the same moment, our laughter fades. The air cracks between us, and he lets go while I clear my throat and sit up straight.

“It seems to me, Annie, that you are just waiting for someone to give you permission to be yourself out loud.”

As I picture a younger version of this man hiding up in a magnolia tree all by himself, my heart bleeds. I want to climb up there with him and hold his hand.

“You should definitely get that. It would be very sexy.” My stomach clenches and I blink at him. “You think I would be…sexy with a tattoo?” He laughs one short laugh, and for a second I’m scared he’s laughing at me. Maybe he never said sexy. Maybe my brain added that word all on its own out of hope. If that’s true, I’m going to need to join the witness relocation program. “No, Annie. Don’t get it twisted. I already think you’re sexy without a tattoo. So I know for sure you would be with one.”

You make me feel different, and I like it. I feel free with you—adventurous and curious.” She pauses and I don’t dare say anything. I need to hear where this is going without inserting any ideas of my own. “So I was wondering if you’d be the someone to help me practice taking risks with, doing new things, and…maybe finding who I am now?” “Be your all-encompassing practice someone?” I ask, letting my thumb drag against her bottom lip. “If it’s not too much to ask,” she says in a quiet whisper.

Get a grip, Will. It was just a kiss. Just practice. “Was that okay?” Annie asks, self-consciously, and the very question is as absurd to me as the fact that she feels any reason to doubt her skill. With my hand still hooked around my neck, I look over at her knowing she can plainly see on my face how absolutely wrecked I am by that kiss. I give her one scoffing laugh. “Yeah. It was great.” Annie turns away a fraction and smiles to herself, and then does something so open, so honest it tears my cynical, terrified heart in half. She rests the tips of her fingers against her smiling mouth. Before she has time to notice, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of her standing there in the warm overhead lights of her shop.

How is it possible to crave change and relish familiarity at the same time?

I took a picture when she wasn’t looking.

And just like that, my apprehension melts. She’s right. And hearing that my opinion means more to her than anyone else’s…damn, give me the tattoo gun and I’ll do it myself. I’ll single-handedly make sure all her dreams come true this very night. She wants to travel? Let’s go. She wants to hike Mount Everest? I’ll get the gear.

For the first time, her misty blue eyes slip to me and she smiles sadly. “I needed to get to the truck so I could cry.” “Because you hate the tattoo?” Her smile widens, big tears pooling in her eyes. “No. Because I love it so much—and I’m so proud of myself for getting it. Thank you for making this happen, Will.”

But before I look away and mentally commit to not looking at her again the rest of the afternoon, I take out my phone and snap a picture of her laughing behind her booth. I’m collecting all these photos and will send them to her when I leave town because the woman deserves to have pretty pictures of herself. I’ll delete them from my phone once I send them to her. I will. I really will. There would be no reason for me to keep them after I leave because I’ll move on and get back to life as normal. I won’t let myself miss Annie. I won’t.

But then Will picks up the framed photo on my dresser—the last picture ever taken of my entire family before my parents died—and my feet move in his direction. He stares down at it and I know what he’s seeing: three happy kids lined up in front of two beaming parents; and me, only three years old, on my mom’s hip and smiling up at her instead of the camera. “That’s the last photo that was taken.” Will looks down at me over his shoulder and his gaze holds mine. “I’m sorry, Annie.” I shrug. “It was a long time ago.” “But I’m sure it still hurts.”

so it became my self-appointed job to lessen their pain. I could hug them. I could make them feel better. I could make sure that I never did anything to add to their worry. And then that, in turn, made me feel better. But a side effect of being the one who listens and comforts is that people rarely offer to listen or comfort me. I’ve been living this way for so long now that I’m not sure I’d be any good at expressing myself even if I were asked to.

Just when I think Will is going to make me talk through my feelings, he lightly grasps my bicep, pulling me into his chest. And that’s it. No prodding questions. He wraps his big arms around me and holds me here in my room until my body melts against his. It feels so good to be held by him. To breathe him in and feel his heart beating against my chest. Too good.

“Because you’re fun to hang out with.” I have to press my lips together and divert my gaze, so I pull out the chair from my desk and sit so that he doesn’t see the way my soul beams from that response.

“It’s making you nervous that I’m on your bed, isn’t it?” I grimace because I really need for him to stop doing that—reading my mind so easily. “It’s not that—” I cut myself off before I attempt to lie and realize he’ll know. He’ll see right through me immediately, as he always does. “All right. Yes, I guess it’s freaking me out a little.” I gesture between us. “I’m not good at all of this, remember?” “All of this?” “Yeah…the socializing. Friendship. Secret late-night meetings.” I pause and then add quietly. “Men in my bed.” “Right. Well, lucky for you, there’s only one man in your bed tonight. The others won’t be here until tomorrow.” We both grin. “Seriously. It’s just me. No need to be nervous. But if you want me to leave, I will. I never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Stop reading!” I blurt. Super. Really discreet. Will’s eyes flick to me, and then a grin that I’ve come to know all too well spreads on his face. His fingers clutch the cover a little harder. “Why, Annabell? Something wrong with me reading this book?” His eyebrows lift. “Wilton, put the book down.” His expression says it: not a chance. And then—the jerk—cuts his eyes to the page and begins reading. Aloud. “A growl sounded from the back of Captain Cutler’s throat as he stared down at Lady Eloise’s full, erotic mouth…” Without thinking, I leap onto the bed. “Oh my gosh, stop reading!” I try to yell in a whisper at Will, who then hops off the other side of the bed. Laughing at his own words, he continues. “If he didn’t take her then and there, he was sure he was going to die,” Will reads while racing around the front of my bed to evade me. He raises the book above his head. “So dramatic, this captain. I mean I know the feeling, but I’ve never thought I’d die from an erection before.” “Oh my gosh! Don’t say erection!” “Boner then?” he supplies—knowing full well that word is not better—while doing a spin move to get around me and lower the book to continue reading. “Her breasts heaved above the bodice of her gown, and Captain Cutler knew she wanted him too.” He pauses again, long enough for me to ram into him like a linebacker and lay him out flat on his back on the mattress. He laughs harder, eyes sparkling dangerously, and extends the book above his head as far as he can as ...

Will’s hands are still above his head, and my eyes drop to where the cap of his sleeve has bunched up over his shoulder, proving that his tattoos do continue up past his bicep. But how far? To what end? I need to know. Will’s eyes blaze, knowing exactly what I’m wanting. “Go ahead.”

AHHHHH

When it’s off, Will and I are face-to-face, and his bare torso and shoulders and chest are all here too. Skin. Warm male skin right here for me to touch. I lift my hand to press into his chest and hesitate. My hands shake and my nerves tell me this is wrong. I shouldn’t be able to do this or to enjoy it. I’m Annie Walker! Annie Walker is sweet. Annie Walker doesn’t even desire these sorts of encounters. Annie Walker is— Will’s hand covers mine as he presses it to his skin. I give in and shut my eyes from how incredible this feels. But now all I want is more. Slowly my hands memorize the feel of his raised tattooed skin and marvel that it has a texture—a memory. I glide my fingers delicately up and over his shoulder, stopping to feel his prominent collarbone along the way and then the curve of his neck all the way up into the back of his rebellious hair. Will’s face turns and his jaw presses into my palm. Something is happening between us, and I’m incapable of stopping it. His hands are on my hips now—fixed there, unmoving. “Annie…” Will says quietly. “I need to ask—you’re a virgin, aren’t you?” The truth falls between us. I swallow and wish more than anything I could lie. Or maybe I don’t. “Yes. How’d you know?” “Well,” he says with a crooked smile. “For one, your reputation. And two…the way you kissed me the other night.” He pauses and I’m terrified he’s going to say he knew from how bad it was. How inexperienced. But then the corners of his mouth curve and his grip tight...

I'm gonna cry haha

“I’ve been waiting because I’ve been too scared.” I say those words out loud for the first time in my life, never really knowing until this moment the reason why. “Actually, I’m not even sure scared is the right word. I’ve just never known anyone who made me feel safe enough to share that part of myself with them.” I’ve always been made to feel like my virginity was silly—not that my siblings have ever said that in so many words, but they’ve said it in the little jabs about how angelic I am. How I’m the only one of us who will likely make it through the pearly gates. Like somehow my need to wait was just me trying to prove I was sweeter and holier than everyone else because I don’t succumb to desires and needs like everyone else. Will doesn’t do that. He nods, seeming to understand that it’s always been more about protecting myself and my emotions than proving anything to others.

“Kiss me, Annie. Please.”

While we kiss, Will’s hands fumble with the buttons of my shirt, starting at the bottom and working their way up. There’s only one left when I grab his hand. “Wait. Time out.” He pauses immediately and pulls back. “I’m not ready yet,” I say in a nervous rush. “I’m sorry…I thought I would be, but then as things started progressing—” Will immediately cups my face, cutting me off. “Don’t apologize. No explanation needed.” “I feel bad.” “Don’t.” He adjusts to his side, resting on his forearm and then using his free hand to pull my hand to his mouth. He kisses my inner wrist with a tenderness that surges to my soul. “You don’t owe me—or anyone else—anything, Annie. Just kissing you is a gift. One that…” His brows pinch together and he pauses, idly playing with my fingers. When he looks at me again, I see something so raw in his eyes I never expected to see: fear. I never do learn what he was going to say. I expect Will to leave, but he sighs and pulls me over to rest my head on his chest, holding me so tight it feels like he’s afraid I’m going to fly away.