Chapter 10
ten
DREW
Ever since I stopped Georgie from taking a header off the sidewalk into the slush-filled gutter she’s been acting strange.
I know she didn’t hit her head, either on the ground or my arm when I reached out and yanked her against me, so her weird behavior isn’t a concussion.
I can’t even pinpoint what it is that’s different, but she’s off. Not her usual smiley or chatty self.
Oh, sure, there’s been a smile on her face, except it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and she insisted on staying home tonight so she could cook instead of going out for dinner.
No amount of arguing on my part could change her mind on that. She wouldn’t even let me accompany her to the store. Of course I’d been on duty and couldn’t exactly follow her.
Instead, I canceled our reservation and walked up and down Main Street until she came out of Hanson’s. She only had a small bag of groceries which was why when she headed home I couldn’t argue about going with her.
But that only made me determined to go straight to her house after my shift and help her prepare our meal.
Except that plan didn’t get far.
I’d had to rush home for a shower and change of clothes because my last call was a broken down car out on the road leading to the ski resort. I should have called a tow truck but the young mother was struggling to keep her boys contained and it was a simple tire change.
Unfortunately that meant wet pants and grease-smudged hands.
There was no way I could come straight to Georgie’s looking like that.
Which meant by the time I arrived at her house, clean and dressed for our date, she had our whole meal, not just prepared, but cooking.
I’m frustrated. And flummoxed. The most recent experience I have with dating is my ex and she expected me to do everything when we were together. Not that I didn’t want to do that. I like taking care of those I love.
And yes, I’m fairly certain I’m in love with Georgie Bookman. Or at least well on the way to being.
“Are you sure you don’t want my help with anything?” I ask again. I didn’t say need because it’s obvious she doesn’t need anyone to help her cook.
“No. Everything is done. We just have to wait until it’s finished and ready to eat.”
“Are you going to tell me what we’re having? Not that it matters, if it tastes as good as it smells I’ll eat it.” The delicious aroma of whatever she’s planned for us hit me the second she opened the front door ten minutes ago.
“It’s nothing fancy, just pot roast.”
If at all possible my mouth waters more now I know what we’re having, and I can’t stop the little moan of pleasure rumbling in my chest. “I can’t tell you the last time I had pot roast that didn’t come from a restaurant kitchen. Are you sure I can’t do anything? Set the table?” I’d seen she’d fixed her outside light when I arrived so there was no point suggesting that.
“No. I’ve set the table and I bought a pre-made pie at Hanson’s so dessert is taken care of too.”
“Pie?”
“Apple. And I’ve got whipped cream or vanilla ice cream to go with it.”
God, this woman just keeps getting more and more appealing. And she seems to have an insight into my favorite foods. Or else we have more in common than I’ve let myself imagine.
“Would you like a drink or something while we wait? I’ll check the meat in about thirty minutes and if you’re okay with medium-rare we can probably eat then.” She frowns. “I haven’t made this since before Granny—” she swallows abruptly.
I’m on my feet, moving around the small counter separating us and pulling her into my arms before I think about doing it. She has my instincts firing on all cylinders and the need to soothe her pain has me remembering I let her deal with her grandmother’s death on her own in some misguided attempt to stay away from her.
I’m done with that. From now on, I’ll be whatever she needs me to be—if she’ll let me.
I don’t speak, just pull her close, cradle the back of her head with my hand and press her cheek to my shoulder. Our height difference means her face fits perfectly in the hollow between the ball of my shoulder and collarbone.
The number of times I’ve wanted to hold this woman over the years is countless. To finally have the ability—the right—to do it is something I never thought I’d get.
Something I hope to keep.
Something I hope I don’t fuck up.
The last time I wanted to spend forever with someone didn’t turn out well.
Memories of my disastrous marriage threaten to intrude and I shove them away and concentrate on the here and now. The woman in my arms.
I don’t know how long we stand there, and I’ll be honest and say I’m more than happy to stand in the middle of Georgie’s kitchen holding her all night.
“I’m okay.”
Her words are soft, her voice laced with a sadness I want to erase with everything in me. Except I know I can’t. It’s impossible to bring her grandmother back and I get the feeling nothing but that would remove the hurt Georgie lives with.
She may have said she was all right but she doesn’t make a move to leave my embrace. The fact holding her feels right, like I’ve done it a million times before, can’t be one sided.
I don’t want to break the moment, don’t want to let her go, not now, not ever.
Except this is only our third date.
And it was less than twenty-four hours ago I told her we weren’t rushing into this.
In spite of my vow to take things slow, I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting to take everything now.
Easing away, I tip her head back and lock my eyes on hers. “You don’t have to be okay. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to lose your grandmother.”
She gives me a small smile and jerky nod before pulling from my arms. “Let me get us a drink and we can take them into the living room and sit by the fire.”
I noticed the fire when she let me in but if I remember correctly there’s no chimney sticking out of the roof. “Is it gas?”
“No. Electric. I had the external chimney removed when I replaced the roof. I always had a fear of setting the house on fire with the wood one and I thought I’d put a gas one in, but that requires a flue which the roofing guy didn’t think to mention when he asked about taking down the crumbling chimney. Plus I would have had to have pipes run through the wall or floor for the gas. Lots of extra work and disruption.”
“You kept the fireplace though.” The stone mantel and chimney breast are the focal point of the living room.
“Yeah.” This time her smile reaches her eyes. “I couldn’t get rid of it because Granny loved it. My grandfather built it for her with stone he quarried himself.”
“You have history here.” It’s something I don’t have. My parents sold the house I grew up in the second my brother and I left home for good. They’ve been touring the country in their RV for close to twenty years now.
“I do. It’s one of the reasons I never want to leave Evergreen Lake. My grandparents built this house when they first got married, and my dad grew up here. My brother—” She sucks in a breath. “Before he died, my brother and I spent all our summers here.”
I had no idea she had a brother. I want to ask her what happened to him. What happened to her parents. Except I can’t bear to see the sadness in her eyes when she mentions them in passing. I can only image the pain talking about them would inflict.
“Wow. That turned somber.”
“I don’t mind.” I don’t. Although I’d prefer her not to remember the pain of losing them, I’d love to know about them, love to see pictures of her family. Of what she was like as a child.
“Not really date conversation.”
“Why? Because it hurts to talk about them?” Why am I pushing this? I should think of something else we can discuss to take her mind off her family.
“It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.”
“That’s good.” I can’t think of what else to say except words I know won’t do anything to make it better. “I’m sorry you lost them.”
“Me too.” She shrugs. “But I learned long ago I can’t control what lives or dies.” The laugh that rushes out of her is not a happy sound. “I can’t even keep Granny’s plants alive.”
I frown. Every spring her front yard is bursting with color. “But, the flowers…” I point toward the front yard. “You have one of the most colorful gardens in town.”
“Yeah.” She nods. “Because every year I hit up the nursery and buy a trunk load of plants to replace the dead ones from the year before.”
“You.” I shake my head. “You plant new each spring?”
“Yes. The only things in the yard that I haven’t killed are the big pine tree out back and the two smaller ones beside the garage.”
“Huh.” I scratch my chin and look around. “No inside plants either.”
“No. Those didn’t even last a month after Granny died.”
I think I know why she continues to replant each year but I want to be sure I understand what’s happening. “So you keep your grandmother’s garden going as a tribute to her?”
“Yes. She loved her garden. Some of my best memories from when I was young are of me and my brother helping her in the yard.”
I want to say I’m sure her grandmother wouldn’t care if she stopped, but who am I to tell her how to grieve. Hell, I shut myself off from everyone after the divorce. I even shut myself off from all the things I’d always wanted.
A wife.
A family.
I’d resigned myself to living a solitary life.
Until the temptation of Georgie Bookman became too much for me to deny.
And here I am, contemplating telling her I’ll take care of her yard. I’ll help honor her grandmother for the rest of my life if she’ll let me.
In less than a week I’ve gone from barely talking to her to being in her house waiting for a home-cooked meal that has my mouth watering and wanting to promise her I’ll spend every second of every day helping her live the life she wants.
She’s everything I used to want.
Everything I thought I’d lost when my ex walked out.
Only now I’m wondering if I’ve spent my whole life marking time.
Waiting for this woman to look at me the way she is right now.
Like she wants me to kiss her.
I haven’t yet. Couldn’t trust myself to even brush my lips across her cheek when I first arrived.
After years of ignoring my attraction to Georgie I’ve underestimated the depth of how much I want her. Our first kiss showed me that.
“Are you okay?” She takes a step toward me.
I nod.
“You don’t seem?—”
“I could say the same about you.”
My words have her going still. Her head tips to the side and her eyes lock on mine. “I’m not sure how to navigate what you make me feel.”
I open my mouth to speak but she beats me to it.
“When you saved me earlier I realized things between us are moving fast no matter what you said last night. I understand why you want to take it slow. We’ve only just started dating and barely know each other, and yet...” She sucks in a breath, straightens her head and back. “I feel like I’ve known you forever. I feel… right when we’re together. As though this is where I always should have been.”
“Same.”
She nods. “Then…”
“I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you.”
Her eyes widen. “Why would you think you would?”
“I don’t know. I just know I’d never get over hurting you.”
“So don’t.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No. I’m not good at this, I ruined my marriage?—”
“Whoa.” Both her hands shoot up, palms facing me. “Stop right there. I don’t know the details of your divorce, and you don’t have to tell me, but it takes two people to make a marriage work and only one to destroy it.”
I shake my head trying to make sense of her words.
“Did you cheat on your wife? Beat her? Not love her?”
“Possible not the last one.”
“Oh.”
“I thought I did but looking back, I’m no longer sure.”
“But you thought you did.” I nod. “Then you would have done everything you could to make her happy, to make sure she was safe.”
I did do that with my ex. Even when I knew things weren’t good, I kept taking care of her. I have no idea how Georgie knows me well enough to realize that.
“It’s easy for me to say all that because I didn’t know you then but I have no doubts in my mind that you were not responsible for the end of your marriage.”
Her words are strong, full of conviction, and I’m talking before I think to keep my mouth shut. “She said the filth of my job is in my bones, seeps from my pores, and contaminated our?—”
“Bullshit!” She steps forward, her index finger pointed at my chest. “I call bullshit. She just needed to blame you, not herself.”
My mouth kicks up. This woman. She’s defending me with such ferocity. Her spine is straight and her eyes fiery. I have no doubt she’d get in my ex’s face if they ever met.
But that isn’t going to happen. I haven’t seen Jen since the divorce papers were signed and I have no desire to.
Moving forward, I let Georgie’s finger poke into my chest, although it’s more my stomach because of our height difference. I keep going until she’s forced to back up. Until I’ve got her pressed into the counter.
Placing a hand on either side of her, I lean forward. “I want so badly to say three words I know neither of us are ready to hear out loud.”
She arches one eyebrow in a sexy challenge. “Who says I’m not ready?”
God. I want to strip her naked and fuck her. “How long can dinner wait?”
Her eyes dart to the side but return to mine quickly. “It’ll be good for a day.”
It’s all the permission I need. With a groan I lower my forehead to rest on hers. “Turn it off or whatever you need to do.”
Her hand reaches out and she flicks the crockpot off at the wall.
The click of that switch triggers one inside me and the next second my mouth is on hers, my hands on her ass, and I’m lifting her off the floor.
I don’t ask her where her bedroom is. I just head out of the kitchen and down the hall, my mouth eating at hers.
I have her bottom lip between my teeth when she mumbles, “Second door on the left.”
And a second later I’m stretched out on top of her. The bed bouncing with the sudden drop of our weight.
I wanted to take it slow, didn’t want to fuck anything up, but maybe not doing what we both clearly want would be fucking it up.
And with that thought I let go of all my reservations and grip the edge of Georgie’s shirt.
My gaze meets hers and the lust I see there has me tearing her top off and then my own.
The night isn’t turning out like I expected but I have no regrets. Because having this woman let me get naked with her has been at the top of my dreams for years.