Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Zara
I knew I shouldn’t have let it bother me. The arrival of Officer Brown—or Butchie Brown as we used to call him—was neither surprising nor consequential .
But it just reinforced my bigger problem. Dave was leaving, and I wasn’t going anywhere. Tomorrow he’d go back to his rich-guy pad—wherever that was—and I’d still be the bad girl who hadn’t quite figured out what to do with her life .
And now I’d done it again . I’d gotten spun up about a guy I couldn’t have. He was leaving, and I would miss him so freaking much. And it made me so mad at myself that I couldn’t even enjoy my last hour with him .
Would I ever learn ?
Signs point to no , as my Magic 8 Ball used to say .
We drove back in silence, my poor attitude filling the interior of his rental truck. When we pulled into the lot behind the Goat, he cut the engine. The only sound after the engine died was the low, lonely grunt of a single bullfrog. And I smiled in spite of myself, remembering Dave’s disbelief when I told him what peeper frogs sounded like .
And—damn it—the sound of frogs on a summer night would probably make me think of him for the next several years .
Time to cut him loose .
I put my hand on the door. “It’s been fun. And I know you didn’t really get what you, uh, came for this time, but I think it’s better if we just call it a night .”
He reached across the gear box and caught my hand before I could make my escape. “Not so fast, prickly girl.” His thumb massaged the palm of my hand. Since our first night together he’d become more sensuous than rough .
Don’t get me wrong—he was still hot and bossy in all the best ways. But he liked to linger over me now. And I should have enjoyed it, but instead I felt like Dorothy when she’d been locked up with the giant hourglass, counting down the minutes until her bitter end .
Emphasis on bitter. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” I admitted .
“You don’t have to say a damn thing,” he rumbled. “Just kiss me goodnight at your door .”
Getting out of the car, I assumed he’d try to talk his way inside. But I was only half right. Instead of talking, he put his hands on either side of the door, then leaned in to kiss me senseless. It wasn’t long before I whimpered into his mouth, because I have no self-control. And he took the keys right out of my hand and opened the door, following me upstairs with my hair curled around one of his big hands, because he knew that made me hot .
For a pleasant hour, I didn’t even bother trying to pretend I wanted him to leave. I let his big body have everything it asked for—my skin, my mouth, every sound of my pleasure .
My very soul .
At last we fell, sated, onto the mattress. He curled an arm over me and held on tightly. I hated how good it felt and how badly I wanted to curl in closer. I counted out a minute, and then two. I was exhausted from the stress of his imminent departure, and I needed him to leave me alone to process it .
But I didn’t want to be a jerk about it. I’d give it five minutes and then kiss him goodbye for the last time .
And that would have happened, except, for once, I fell asleep .
Since I wasn’t used to having anyone in my bed, I opened my eyes when my digital clock said 3 : 07 .
Fuck .
I had one leg thrown over Dave’s, and we were holding hands in our sleep. The peaceful sound of sleepy breathing came from his side of the bed .
Closing my eyes again, I let him be. Only a total bitch kicks a sleeping man out of her bed at three in the morning .
Yet I’d been difficult all summer. “Prickly as a porcupine,” he’d said once with a big smile. He’d just seen his first porcupine that day. “In a tree!” he’d told me. “I didn’t know you guys climbed trees .”
It wasn’t a bad analogy. Like a porcupine’s, my prickliness was there for self- preservation .
“You sure make me work for it,” he’d also said more than once .
“Your other dates don’t? They should .”
He’d given his head a shake. “I don’t date. Not cut out for relationships. Hanging out with you is the closest I ever got .”
“Because there’s an expiration date,” I’d pointed out. “You don’t have to look for the exits because you already have one foot out the door .”
He’d snorted. “Are we going to psychoanalyze each other now? If so, I’d like to know why a country girl is afraid of spiders .”
“It was just the one! I walked face-first into the fucking web ! ”
“ Dave! ” he’d mock-screamed. “ Is it in my hair ? ”
“Yeah? I’ll put one in your bed, and then we’ll see how funny it is .”
He’d only laughed and then kissed me .
Sometimes, during our longer conversations, I’d forgotten to keep my guard up, and I’d caught myself smiling back at him. It was easy enough to fall headlong into his green eyes, and laugh at his jokes. “A giggle!” he’d said once. “Alert the media. Zara giggled like a schoolgirl .”
“I don’t giggle. You must have imagined it,” I’d said, staying in character .
“Uh-huh,” he’d said, and then tickled me. Nobody had tickled me in a decade .
So here I was smiling into the dark at three o’clock in the fucking morning, feeling nostalgic over a hookup .
What a dumbass I was .
It wasn’t easy to go back to sleep. Because I’d gone and done exactly what I shouldn’t have done—I’d gotten hung up on Dave, the ginger hottie .
I must have drifted off. Because there was light seeping into my windows when I became conscious of Dave kissing me on the neck. “It’s morning,” he whispered. “I’m going now .”
I closed my eyes and kept them shut tight .
“What a summer it’s been,” he whispered, landing a kiss on the underside of my jaw. “Hands down you’re my favorite person in Vermont.” Another kiss .
It wasn’t easy to feign sleep; I hadn’t tried it since high school when I’d had to share a room with my twin brother for a time .
But I persevered, not giving Dave an inch. I hated goodbyes .
“All right.” He chuckled softly. “If that’s how you want to play it. Goodbye, beautiful .”
He fit his lips to the back of my neck and gave me a soft, slow kiss .
And then—finally— he left .
I waited, listening. His footsteps were achingly slow as he walked down my staircase. My heart was in my mouth at the sound of the door opening and shutting behind him. The sound of his rental starting up gave me a shiver .
If I sat up and opened the window right over my head and waved, he would see me and stop. God, I wanted him to stop and kiss me goodbye .
Wait! I wanted to yell. Don’t go .
Fuck .
My heart thudded with unhappiness, but I didn’t move. He wasn’t going to stay in Vermont, even if I humiliated myself. He had a life somewhere else. And he hadn’t asked for my number .
I don’t date , he’d said .
It was the same thing Griff had said right before he and Audrey became a couple .
The truth was that men didn’t date people like me. I was the girl they “hung out with,” as Dave had put it last night. The bartender was a good time and fun in bed, but not a forever girl .
My heart hammered as Dave’s truck backed up slowly. I heard the sound of his wheels pivoting in the dirt and the purr of the engine as he stepped on the gas .
Maybe sixty seconds later, he’d driven far enough away that I didn’t hear the engine at all .
I lay there in my bed for a long time after that, the sheets smelling like his aftershave. Maybe another girl would have cried, but that wasn’t my style. Sadness didn’t come leaking from my eyes. It settled into my heart instead, like a weight .
An hour later I struggled upright, hoping to shake off my blues. But the first thing I saw was Dave’s shiny watch on the bedside table where he’d accidentally left it. I crawled over and looked closely enough at it that I could hear it ticking .
Well, hell. I couldn’t keep it. It was too pricey to be a guiltless souvenir. Instead, it would become something to add to my to-do list—find Dave from Brooklyn and FedEx his watch .
What I didn’t know that August morning was that finding him would prove impossible .
I also didn’t know that six weeks after I started searching, I’d realize that Dave had left something far more valuable than a luxury watch behind in Vermont .
And he wouldn’t be back for either one .