Chapter 17
BINX
I f I had to pick one day to live over and over again, I’m pretty sure this would be it. I love all the memories I’ve made with my family and friends, and I’m so excited about starting my new career, but this time with Seven…
It’s been pure magic.
Not even the appearance of Tater Tot at the edge of the porch as we’re grilling sausages for dinner can mar the perfection of the past twelve hours.
“Go ahead, toss him a baby carrot from the veggie tray,” Seven encourages as I position myself on the opposite side of the grill, as far from the furry potato as possible.
“Nah, I’m good,” I say, taking a sip of my Chardonnay. “It’s too smoky over there.”
Seven shoots me an amused glance from the corners of his eyes. “Yeah? That’s why you’re clearing an escape route to the door?”
“I am not,” I lie, even as I shift one of the deck chairs over to make it easier for me to sprint back into the cabin, if necessary.
“He’s harmless.”
“That’s what they all say until they come down with a bad case of groundhog cooties.”
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the edges in a way I find inexplicably sexy. I love his smile lines and the hint of gray at his temples. As far as I can tell, Seven is only getting sexier with age. He’s always going to be smoking hot. And if he started to soften or slow down a little, I wouldn’t mind. I love his outsides, but it’s his insides that turn me into a lust puddle every time he puts his arms around me.
His insides are the most beautiful thing about him.
“Groundhog cooties,” he echoes, tossing a carrot to the fur potato, who chases it into the browning grass with a happy grunt. “You hear that, Tater Tot? Binx thinks you have cooties.”
Tater Tot grunts again, shooting a narrow look over his shoulder that makes us both laugh, before grabbing his carrot and chowing down with enough enthusiasm to make his chubby cheeks wobble. His giant bottom teeth actually seem to get in the way for a moment, but he figures it out and resumes happily chomping and grunting.
“So, how are groundhog cooties different than normal cooties?” Seven flips the sausages, sending up a waft of delicious, spicy-scented air that makes my stomach growl.
“No idea,” I say, leaning against the porch railing. “I’m too hungry to make up something entertaining. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days. Must be all the fresh air.”
His grin takes on a wicked lilt. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Not all the calories we burned in bed this morning. Or in the bathroom or the kitchen. Or at the waterfall. At this point, I’m half dead on my feet.”
I laugh, biting my lip as I shift closer, hooking a finger through his belt loop. “Poor thing. Well, don’t worry. If you need an early bedtime with no extracurricular activities beforehand, I understand. Maybe we can read aloud to each other in bed, instead.”
“Fuck that, reading is for nerds,” he says, grabbing me around the waist and tugging me close, making me giggle as he kisses me hard.
Our teeth bump behind our lips, and I instantly decide that kissing Seven while we both laugh is also going on my list of Best Things Ever. Right along with his cock and his hands and his sexy voice in my ear and the way he smiles that new, softer smile that’s just for me.
As he pulls back, gazing down at my face like he’s trying to memorize every inch, I want to tell him that I love him. I want to tell him that I’d gladly take a year with him over a lifetime with anyone else.
I want to tell him that my heart is his, forever , even if he takes Sprout and moves a thousand miles away and never steps foot in Minnesota again.
But this isn’t the time. We still have another entire day in our little paradise made for two. I don’t want to ruin tomorrow by jumping the gun today.
I’ll tell him everything that’s in my heart, but I’ll do it later, when the timing is right.
“Want to grab the buns from inside?” he murmurs, the affection in his voice making my blood buzz way more than a glass of wine ever could. “I can throw them on the grill to toast while the sausages finish up.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “I love a toasted bun.” I slide my hand past the small of his back to grip his delicious backside through his jeans.
He grins and does the same to me. “I prefer mine covered in lace. Those panties you had on last night did things to me, McGuire. I doubt I’m ever going to get the sight of you dropping your towel by the tub out of my head.”
I lift my chin, holding his gaze as I whisper, “Good. Want me to grab the salad while I’m inside, too?”
“Yeah, and the corn chips, please,” he says, giving my ass a final, affectionate squeeze before setting me free. “I’m seriously starved. I don’t think three sausages is going to be enough.”
I laugh as I start across the porch. “You can have one of mine. Two is plenty for me, I promise.” I pause with my hand on the door, sighing as Seven tosses Tater Tot another carrot. “And will you please stop feeding the rodent? I know he’s your buddy, but I’d like to eat without a fur potato circling the table the entire time.”
“You’re a fussy woman,” he teases with a mock shake of his head.
“I am,” I agree. “That’s why I have a pet cactus instead of an actual pet. I enjoy an orderly mealtime with no fur or teeth involved. And Mr. Prickles is always a gentleman.”
Seven shakes his head. “You and that pet cactus. Sprout told me she caught you talking to it the last time she was over at your place. When you were alone and you thought she was in bed, so she knew it wasn’t for her benefit.”
“So?” I ask, propping a hand on my hip. “Mr. Prickles is an excellent listener. And Sprout needs to stop telling tales. What happens at Sleepover Night stays at Sleepover Night. That’s the first rule of Sleepover Night. I mean, I have tales I could tell, too. Like the time she ate an entire container of whipped cream before I got up one morning, and we didn’t have any for our pumpkin pie breakfast. Or the time I let her stay up until one in the morning, even though you said she had to be in bed no later than midnight.”
He grunts. “I bet I can guess which sleepover night that was. Probably the one when she was a nightmare the next day. My daughter is a cranky little girl when she doesn’t get at least eight hours of sleep.”
I bare my teeth in a “mea culpa” grin. “Sorry. We were watching Enchanted and we couldn’t stop before the happily ever after. Sprout told me stopping before the happily ever after is a proven formula for nightmares, and I couldn’t give one of my favorite people nightmares. I’m not a monster.”
The light in his eyes dims, and I instantly know I’ve said the wrong thing. “You’re one of her favorites, too.”
My shoulders creep toward my ears as the tension in the air builds, both of us clearly thinking of how hard this is going to be for the little girl we both love so much. “Listen, Seven, we don’t have to?—”
“Maybe we can figure something out,” he cuts in. “A way for you two to stay close even if we…”
I press my lips together as my throat goes tight. He said “ if we,” but his face is saying “ when we.”
When we no longer see each other anymore…
Because he’s still determined for this to end Friday morning. He doesn’t seem to be second-guessing that decision at all, and that…hurts.
It really fucking hurts.
It hurts so badly that I can barely force myself to nod and mutter, “Yeah, sure, we’ll figure it out,” before hurling myself through the door into the cabin.
Once inside, I don’t go to the kitchen to grab the buns and salad; I head for the bathroom and close the door, leaning back against it as I press my hands to my face. I pull in deep breaths, willing myself not to cry. I can’t fall apart right now or Seven will bail on our “fuck each other’s brains out for three days” plan before we’ve even made it all the way through day two.
He won’t stay the course if he knows how badly this is hurting me, and I can’t give him an excuse to push me away. Fighting for him—for us—will be a hell of a lot harder if he’s sleeping on the couch and working on the cabinets all day tomorrow instead of spending time with me.
“Right, keep your eye on the ball, Binx,” I say, dropping my hands to my sides and giving my reflection a hard look in the mirror. With my cheeks sun-kissed from the days outside and my lips puffy from kissing Seven an absurd number of times today, I look like a well-loved woman having the staycation of her life.
I can be that woman for another day. And then, come tomorrow night, if Seven and I are falling asleep, and he’s still determined to say “so long” in the morning, maybe I’ll let myself ugly cry on his chest and beg him to give us a chance.
I’m not above an ugly cry. Not even close.
I have no shame when it comes to Seven, which should probably bother me. I’m not the kind of woman who begs for a man’s attention. I’m the kind who flips a man the bird and tells him to get fucked if he can’t see that I’m something special.
But it’s different with Seven. I know he thinks I’m special. It’s himself that he has doubts about.
“You’re going to get through to him,” I tell my reflection. I stand up a little straighter, rolling my shoulders back. “He’s stubborn, but he’s met his match this time.”
My jaw relaxes and the tension in my chest eases—because I believe it. He has met his match, in every way, and I’m going to make sure he realizes that by Friday morning. Look how far we’ve come in less than forty-eight hours. There’s still time to turn this around.
Comforted by my pep talk, I head out of the bathroom and into the kitchen, arriving in time to watch a familiar car pull up the drive through the window above the sink.
Instantly, my stomach bottoms out and my heart starts beating a mile a minute.
“No,” I mutter, my hands balling into fists on the counter. “No, no, no!”
I bolt for the door, planning to tell the driver to turn the hell around and leave—now! I’m fine, I’m safe, and the last thing I want is to be “rescued” from my current situation.
But by the time I reach the front of the cabin, my mother has already cut the engine and is glaring at me through the windshield of her white Kia Sorento, a mortified-looking Wendy Ann cringing in the passenger’s seat beside her.