Chapter 11
“You wanna grab a beer?”
On the other end of the line, Porter hesitated. “It’s not even five yet, man.”
Harrison glanced at his watch, though he knew perfectly well what time it was. “It will be in about forty-five minutes. I haven’t made it all the way to town yet.” The town limit sign that flashed by the Jeep window made a liar out of him, but why mention it?
“Is everything okay?”
Sure it was. Except the cabin felt empty without Ivy.
Harrison had expected that the first night. They’d been constantly in each other’s company, in each other’s space, for the better part of a week. He’d known he’d miss having her in his bed. But he’d expected to re-acclimate to the solitude. That was, after all, his preferred natural habitat.
When he’d dropped her off at The Misfit Inn, they’d made a plan to meet up tonight for dinner. Since she had no car and there was no way to reach him at the cabin by phone, it was the only logical option. Two days was enough of a span for her to get a serious start on the book. After all the brainstorming about Annika and Michael, he felt jazzed to go back to his own work. He didn’t have the deadline she did, or anybody else depending on him, but he did have to decide what came next in his own books. He figured he’d follow her example and go head down until she surfaced again. That had been forty-six hours ago, and he’d still found himself looking up at every sound, expecting her to be there.
It was better than the alternative of having his ghosts come back with a vengeance, but he missed her, damn it. Like some lovesick teenager, he’d even been counting down the hours until it was time to leave for Eden’s Ridge. He didn’t miss women. Well, in all fairness, he hadn’t been truly involved with one in years. But he missed Ivy, and he didn’t know what to do with that. How could he miss someone who hadn’t even been in his life before the last week? Disgusted with himself, he’d decided to head into town early. Anything would be better than being left to his own devices.
“Yeah, everything’s fine. You up for meeting at the Tavern when you finish up at the job site?”
“Sure. See you there.”
Good. Maybe a visit would help mitigate this itch he’d had.
Knowing he had time to kill, he parked at one end of Main Street and figured he’d walk a bit. The sidewalks had been cleared, but there were still patches of white in corners and cracks where the salt hadn’t reached. In the little park, a parade of misshapen snowmen were in various stages of death throes, as they melted with rising temperatures. Soon they’d be nothing but a puddle of memories.
He wondered if the same could be said of his affair with Ivy. That was really what was at the heart of this restlessness. For all he hadn’t been looking and hadn’t expected to find something with her, he had. What if she’d come to her senses the past couple of days? What if he really had been nothing more to her than a distraction? What if the easy intimacy they’d shared was gone and this dinner he’d been so looking forward to was awkward?
And what if you get a damned grip on yourself and stop making problems where there are none?
But it was his nature and his training to consider the possible disasters and how to handle them.
So start with the problem directly in front of you.You missed her. Do something to show her that.
Spying a shop with a profusion of blooms in the display window, Harrison crossed the street. The interior of Moonbeams and Sweet Dreams smelled lush and sweet, the fragrant flowers scattered around the store perfuming the warm air. Music played quietly from hidden speakers—some kind of Celtic fiddles and drums. From the back, a dog barked, and a woman’s low voice quietly shushed it. A few seconds later, she emerged from a doorway behind the counter. For a moment, he could only blink at the crown of baby roses woven into her auburn hair, and the long, flowy skirt and top. Had he walked through a portal back to Woodstock?
“Can I help you?”
He blinked. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you’re a florist?”
The woman beamed. “I am. I’m Misty Pennebaker. Do you need some flowers?”
Flowers. Yeah. He’d take Ivy flowers. They’d be a nice gesture. His mom had always appreciated unexpected flowers.
“I do.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“A woman.”
Misty’s lips bowed up in delight. “The very best occasion. Tell me about her.”
How was he supposed to reduce Ivy to a simple list of descriptors? “She’s smart and funny and interesting. And gorgeous.” All true, but not the heart of who she was. He was still learning that.
“A romantic interest, then. And what do you want to tell her?”
“Tell her?”
Misty slid onto a stool behind the counter, grabbing a pen and notepad. “Sure. Flowers are their own language. So what do you want to tell your lady?”
“She’s not mine. Exactly. It’s…complicated, I guess. We haven’t defined it.”
“But you want to. Define it, that is.”
Yeah. He did. He wanted this to be…something. He didn’t know how, didn’t know exactly what, but he knew he couldn’t just walk away from the connection they’d shared. So he nodded. “But I don’t want to be pushy. Or needy. I just want something that says…I’ve been thinking of you. Something that will wow but not overwhelm.” Might as well go all-in.
Misty was nodding. “I can do that. Are these for delivery?”
“I was hoping I could take them with me when I pick her up for dinner tonight.”
“I can work with that.”
And she did. Half an hour later, Harrison walked out with an explosion of bright blooms, almost none of which he could name. Misty had assured him they were perfect, but he wondered if it was too much. Maybe he should’ve gone with something simpler, like daisies or tulips.
“Aw, flowers. You shouldn’t have.”
Harrison jerked his attention up from the bouquet to find Porter grinning at him from the sidewalk. The back of his neck heated. So much for getting a chance to stash them in the Jeep before hitting Elvira’s.
“I didn’t think you’d be done yet.”
“It sounded like you had something on your mind, so I wrapped a little early. I’m guessing it’s not so much something as someone.”
Harrison resisted the urge to tuck the flowers behind his back. “I was just…” Just what?
Porter crossed his arms, his smile widening as Harrison floundered for something to say.
“Fine, I’ve got a date later.” Why did he feel so stupid saying that? He was sharing a meal with the woman he’d been sleeping with. What else did you call it?
“Uh huh. With the woman you rescued, I take it. The one you were hanging out with shirtless when Xander showed up.”
“So?”
“He said you two looked awfully…cozy for a couple folks who didn’t know each other before this snowstorm.”
Had the two of them been gossiping like a couple of teenage girls? Harrison scowled. “If you’re gonna bust my chops, you’re buying.”
“With pleasure, brother.”
Porter didn’t give him a chance to stow the bouquet before heading to the tavern. This early it wasn’t crowded, so they had their pick of tables.
A waitress sashayed over as soon as they sat down. “What can I get you boys?”
Porter held up two fingers. “Two beers, Trish. That new lager on tap. Thanks.”
“Comin’ right up.”
With nowhere else to put them, Harrison laid the flowers on the far side of their four-top. He felt horribly conspicuous, like he’d accidentally worn hunter’s orange instead of camo to a covert op. The sensation only increased as Trish came back with their drinks.
“Oh, those are simply gorgeous! Who’s the lucky lady?”
Did she honestly expect an answer to that? Her expectant stare suggested she did.
Evidently taking pity on him, Porter flashed a smile at the waitress. “This’ll be all, Trish. Thanks.”
As soon as she’d walked away, Harrison took a healthy swallow of beer. He hated being the center of attention.
“So, you’ve had an eventful week for a guy who planned to be a hermit.”
“Guess so.”
“From what I hear, Ivy’s pretty lucky you came along. Xander said the wreck was bad.”
Harrison thought of the terrain on the side of that mountain. “The whole thing could’ve gone FUBAR pretty easily. Another few feet in either direction and she wouldn’t have survived the crash. As it was, she came out with minimal injuries.”
“Obviously you couldn’t get her to town that night because of the weather. But I find it very interesting that when a ride presented itself, she elected to stay with you. I find it even more interesting that you let her.”
“Was I supposed to just kick her out? Say, ‘Oh, glad you’re okay. You’re no longer my problem. Good luck and Godspeed?’ I’m not that much of a dick.”
Unperturbed, Porter just lifted a brow. “Did you want to say any of that?”
“Does it matter?”
“I think it does.”
Harrison sipped more beer. “No, I didn’t want to say any of that.”
“You actually wanted her to stay.”
“Yeah. I did. So what?”
“So, it’s telling. You connected with this woman.”
Uncomfortable with the truth of his observation, Harrison curled his lip in a smirk. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
Porter didn’t bite. “You don’t buy flowers for a woman you’re just hot for. You don’t let her stay for days, interrupting your planned solitude. This woman is important to you.”
She was. And that Porter so easily recognized it made Harrison realize he must be walking around with his heart on his sleeve. Which meant he was in this a helluva lot deeper than he meant to be.
“It looks good on you,” Porter continued.
“What does?”
“Living. You’ve been going through the motions the last few years. It’s good to see you really reaching for something.”
Harrison stared at him. “You got all that out of some gossip from your sheriff buddy and some flowers?”
“I got all that from the look on your face when you talked about her.”
“What look?”
“The look that says you found somebody who’s worth staying in the now and looking to the future instead of hanging in the past.”
“The alternative is that she looks at the opportunities she’s presented with and actively chooses life, chooses to engage, chooses to feel.”
* * *
It really was a cryingshame not to take time to linger in the claw-foot bathtub, but Ivy was far too hyped up to simply sit, languishing in bubbles. The book was cooking. So much so that she’d set herself five alarms to make sure she was ready early for her dinner with Harrison, lest she get sucked in again and still be in her author’s uniform of leggings, an ancient sweatshirt from her alma mater, and a messy bun, with no makeup when he arrived. Not that he hadn’t seen her looking the worse for wear, but she wanted to wow him when he came to get her, in case he’d been rethinking the wisdom of their involvement.
Things between them had escalated so quickly because of the close-quarters circumstances. Gaining some distance had been necessary for work, but what if he’d changed his mind about her? What if she’d built up this whole fantasy about what they were or could be to each other and the guy who came to get her was…something else? What if the intimacy they’d shared had been an illusion? Those questions had been enough to scare the crap out of her, so she’d buried herself in the book, throwing Annika unavoidably into Michael’s path. Better to force him to face facts than make herself crazy facing her own.
But now she’d stepped away from the book and all those insecurities had come roaring back to the forefront. How should she greet him? Probably grabbing him by the shirtfront and dragging him into her room wasn’t the way to go, no matter how much she wanted to. A hug? A kiss on the cheek? Should she take the lead or wait to see what he did? Would she have to start all over earning his trust? Or would he be the same guy who’d blown her brain with a lingering kiss on the porch when he’d left two days ago?
Because she was perilously close to pacing the floor, Ivy sat back down at her laptop.
“If you’re gonna make anybody nuts, do it to Michael.”
She fell back into the story, deep enough that when the knock came on the door some time later, it took her a few moments to register where she was.
Harrison.
Her heart leapt with nerves and excitement. Shoving back from the desk, she rushed across the room in bare feet, pausing with her hand on the knob to try to get herself under control so she didn’t look as over-eager as she felt. Sucking in a few calming breaths, she fixed a smile on her face and opened the door.
A massive bouquet of flowers blocked her view.
Flowers?
Lifting her gaze, she spotted Harrison behind them, ears faintly pink, looking hella uncomfortable.
The fixed smile melted into a genuine one. “You brought me flowers? Awww.” Reaching out, she accepted them from his outstretched hand and buried her face in the sweet-smelling blooms.
All the nerves, all the angst and questions, seeped out of her. He’d brought her flowers. A man didn’t bring flowers to a woman he didn’t actually like or was planning to break things off with. Flowers—especially flowers like these—took a little thought and planning. So he’d been thinking of her as she had him.
A little giddy with relief, she grinned up at him. “Come in.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped into her room. Belatedly, she looked around, wondering what state she’d left the place in. Thankfully, she hadn’t been deep in the book long enough for it to turn into a pig sty. There was no pile of dirty clothes in the floor and the bed was actually made, courtesy of the inn staff. Of course, that just had her thinking about tumbling him onto it and mussing that neat comforter.
“These are beautiful. I’ll have to ask Pru for something to put them in.”
Fidgeting a little, Harrison scrubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “I should’ve thought of that.”
Wanting to put him at ease, she lifted to her toes and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “You thought of me, which I appreciate. Thank you.”
His hand slid around her waist, his dark eyes intent on hers in a way that made her stomach jump. “I’ve thought of little else the last couple of days.”
She sensed the admission was hard-won. Maybe he’d struggled as much as she had being apart. Setting the flowers aside so they wouldn’t get crushed, Ivy flowed into him, feeling all the nerves settle as his arms came around her. His broad hand slid into her hair, angling her head for a kiss. Then his lips were on hers and every doubt, every question faded.
She hadn’t romanticized this, hadn’t imagined it. He still wanted her and lord, did she still want him. Needing to get closer, she slid her hands up and over his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Maybe she could revisit that dragging him to bed scenario.
“Hey Ivy, did you need—oh!”
Feeling her cheeks go nuclear, Ivy pulled back to glance toward the still open door, where Pru’s teenaged daughter, Ari, stood.
The girl didn’t even bother to hide her smile. “Sorry.”
Ivy had to clear her throat to speak. “It’s fine. Did I need what?”
“I saw him bring in the flowers, so I thought you might need a vase.” She held up the one she carried.
“That’s very thoughtful. Thanks, Ari.”
The girl stepped into the room, far enough to set the vase on a table. “I’m just gonna leave this here and get out of your way.” Hastily backing up, she grabbed the door and swung it closed behind her. “Have a good night!”
Chuckling, Ivy dropped her head to Harrison’s chest. “Well, now I feel way too weird to do what I really want to do.”
“What’s that?”
She lifted her head. “Show you exactly how soft and cushy this bed is.”
Heat flared in his eyes. “There’s always later.”
“I like later.”
“What about the meantime? How’s the book coming?”
She pulled away, snagging his hand and dragging him over to her new laptop. Triumphant, she pointed at the bottom of the screen. “Behold that word count!”
Harrison went brows up. “You’ve cranked out nearly seventeen thousand words in two days?”
“Damned skippy! My brain is gonna be completely useless goo when this book is done, but it’s going to be done. That’s the important part.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“What’s even more fantastic is that it’s good. Some of the best work I’ve done. I mean, I think. I’m probably not exactly unbiased at this stage. But I’m loving the story. I’m loving the chance to peel back their layers and show them as so much more than what the reader saw before.” Squeezing his hand in gratitude, she smiled up at him. “You saw it first. I couldn’t have done this without you. You’ve helped me fall back in love with writing again.”
And maybe more than a little bit with you.
The realization slid between her ribs like a knife, leaving her stunned and only a few steps ahead of panic. Oh God.
It was too much, too fast. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She couldn’t be in love with him. Not really. It was just lust. Wasn’t it?
“Do you need to take notes?”
Ivy blinked up at him. “What?”
“You’ve got that distracted look, like you’ve just had a major plot realization. Do you need to write it down before we leave for dinner?”
That he’d think of that, respect that, made her heart go gooey. Damn it. This wasn’t just lust.
“No. No, I definitely won’t forget this.” Squeezing his hand, she stepped away to find her shoes, grateful for the opportunity to hide her face for a moment. “Let’s go get some dinner.”