Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
I did my best to keep my fingers loose on the steering wheel. I didn’t want Zoe to see I was white-knuckling it. She’d been killing me since the moment I saw her in the boots. Or was it the dress, and the way her breasts gently crested above the downy material, looking infinitely softer.
Then confirming that beneath her hard-assed persona was a poet’s soul?
Jesus.
She was definitely killing me… in all the right ways.
I pulled into her driveway and she immediately reached for her doorhandle.
“Let me,” I requested softly.
She looked over at me, surprised. “Oh yeah. You like the whole opening door thing.”
“I thought all Southern ladies were used to that.”
“Most guys know I’m the open my own door kind of gal.”
“I’m sure you are, but let me, okay?”
The way she nodded, had her hair hiding her face, showcasing that streak of blue.
I ached to push it back behind her ear, but I didn’t.
After all we’d been through, I wanted it to be very clear that I had touching privileges.
I didn’t want her to think that I was assuming things just because I delivered her—I mean, just because I delivered Olivia.
I got out of my truck and went to open her door. She didn’t grab the handle and step on the running board as I expected. Instead she put both her hands on my shoulders and used me as support to lower herself to the ground, our bodies sliding against one another, her eyes never leaving mine.
Well then.
I guess touching was in play.
I shut the door behind her and walked her up the stairs. We stood on her large porch in front of her door.
“Would you like to come in for an after-dinner drink, coffee, or hot chocolate?”
“Hot chocolate, huh?”
“You only had one beer with dinner, I figured you wouldn’t want to drink again before picking up James. A cup of coffee would just keep you awake all night, so that’s why hot chocolate is on offer. But I do have juice boxes. I have red, blue and green flavors.”
I chuckled. “As tempting as all of that is, I’ll have to pass. I need to get to the jobsite early tomorrow. If I pick James up too late, he’ll be a bear to wake up in the morning.”
I was almost positive I saw a flash of regret on her face, before it was masked. I couldn’t be sure, because Zoe was great at masking.
“However…”
“Yes?” Her smile was something she’d give a customer at her store.
“I was hoping for a goodnight kiss.”
Her smile metamorphosized. Now I was seeing the woman in the restaurant. The woman who had looked at her eggplant parmigiana like it was some kind of gift from God.
“I could be talked into a kiss goodnight. What flavor?”
I thought for a moment. “Red. Definitely red.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
The April night had been warm enough that she hadn’t worn a coat, therefore I slipped my arm around her waist and stepped forward so that our bodies touched. Just brushed together. I wanted to work my way up to red.
She was a petite woman, and I was six foot two. I didn’t want to do anything that would overwhelm her.
Zoe undid the buttons on my suit jacket, then slid her hands up my chest. Apparently, I wasn’t overwhelming.
Her palms were warm even through my dress shirt, and I felt every inch of the contact like she'd pressed a brand against my skin.
I brought my free hand up and did what I'd been wanting to do all evening—tucked that streak of blue back behind her ear. She went very still.
"Hi," I said quietly.
"Hi yourself."
I tipped her chin up and kissed her. Softly. Just an introduction. The kind of kiss that asked a question instead of assuming an answer.
She kissed me back, and the answer was yes.
I kept it there, warm, unhurried, her hands fisted lightly in my shirt like she was anchoring herself. When I finally lifted my head, her eyes stayed closed for a moment longer than necessary.
I counted that as a win.
"Verdict?" I asked.
She opened her eyes. "Orange."
“In that case.”
I dipped down again and stroked my lips against hers. Knowing that she wanted what I did to her spurred me on. Urged me to go close to where I had been wanting to be all night. When I parted her lips with my tongue, she made a needy sound and welcomed me.
I didn’t rush, what was the fun in that? I stroked my tongue against hers, in languid brushes, until she was chasing mine and we were soon tangled in a fevered kiss that defied all expectation. She smiled against my lips, then slowly pulled away.
“Red. Definitely red.”
I smiled and she smiled back, and for a moment we just stood there on her porch in the April dark, my arm still around her waist, her hands now twined around my neck, neither one of us in any particular hurry to break the connection.
“Dammit Zoe, I don’t want to leave.”
“Then my job here is done.” She attempted to smirk, but there was a small tremble. It made me feel ten feet tall.
"I'll call you tomorrow."
"You don't have to."
"I know I don't have to."
Something moved through her expression, that same flash I'd caught in the truck, gone before I could name it. She nodded once, then reached back and opened her front door.
"Goodnight, Adam."
"Goodnight, Zoe."
I waited until I heard the lock turn before I went back down the stairs. I sat in the truck for a moment before I started it, hands loose on the wheel this time, no white-knuckling required.
She was the one who made things red.
It wasn’t like my boy to be quiet. I looked down at him for the third time since we walked into the empty house.
“Well, what do you think?”
“It’s awfully big.” James walked over to the fireplace that was as tall as he was.
“I thought you liked that.”
“It had furniture and a dog before.”
“That’s because people were living in it.”
“Where did they go?”
“They went to a new house in Kansas.” I watched as he moved over to the bay windows that overlooked a big magnolia tree in the front yard.
"Why?"
"Because that's where their new jobs are."
He pressed his nose against the glass. "Is that our tree now?"
"It is."
He considered this, “Good. It’s the same as the one at Grandma Sharon’s house. She’ll like it when she comes to visit.”
"I thought so, too."
He moved away from the window and walked slowly toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms, his sneakers squeaking on the hardwood.
I followed. He stopped in the doorway of his room, the one we'd picked together because it had the window seat and was closest to the backyard, and stared at the empty space.
"It's really empty," he said.
"Not for long. The movers will be here in about an hour."
He turned and looked up at me. "With my bed?"
"With your bed."
James nodded, reassured, and went back to looking around. He was quiet again in a way that meant he was thinking hard about something.
“What is it?”
“Do we live close to Miss Angel? She’s really pretty. Maybe it would be good if she came over to play with both of us.”
Uh-oh.
“Why both of us?”
“Bubba said you need a girlfriend, and I like Miss Angel.”
Holy shit.
“Uhm, James, I like Miss Angel too, but only as a friend.”
“That’s what I said. She’s a girl and our friend. A girlfriend. She should come over and visit.”
“And Miss Zoe?”
“I guess she could come,” he sighed.
I was going to have to think about this.
Luckily the movers arrived forty minutes early, which I appreciated.
The moment the big truck backed into the driveway, James transformed from confused matchmaker into the excited little boy I expected.
He planted himself on the porch steps and provided a running commentary on every item that came through the front door.
"That's our couch. That's a good couch.
"Those are Dad's book boxes. There's a lot of them.
"That lamp is ugly but Dad likes it."
I made a mental note to donate the lamp.
When the men carried in his dresser he was on his feet. When his bookshelf appeared he started bouncing. But it was the bed, his bed, the one shaped like a race car that he was frankly getting too old for but that I didn't have the heart to replace yet, that did it.
"MY BED!" He shot off the porch steps and danced alongside the two movers as they navigated it through the front door, a one-man parade. "Dad! My bed is here! Can we set it up first? Can we? It has to go in my room, I already picked my room, I'll show you where—"
"James." I put a hand on his shoulder before he could physically steer a grown man down the hallway. "Let them work. You can show them when they're ready."
He was vibrating under my hand.
One of the movers, a big guy named Chuck who'd been hauling our furniture since Nashville, caught my eye and grinned. "We'll do his room first."
James looked up at him like he'd been handed a trophy. "Thank you," he said, with complete sincerity.
Chuck laughed. "No problem, little man."