Chapter 48
Stop with the grand gesturing
Zoey
Imay have caved to the invitation with an appalling lack of backbone, but at least I had the wherewithal to drive myself and Buttercup to Gage’s house.
My hair was still damp from the shower, but I put the top down so the breeze would take care of that.
In keeping with the whole “I’m not trying” thing, I was still wearing my ultimate bingo shirt, because it was the only clean item of clothing that I currently owned, seeing as how someone had stolen my entire wardrobe.
I was apparently the only person in the entire town concerned about the whereabouts of my clothing.
I cranked up my music and gave the sharp wings of eyeliner an approving nod in the rearview mirror.
So I may have gone a little sexy on the makeup, but that wasn’t to entice Gage.
It was my armor. It was my reminder that I was a strong, independent woman…
who accidentally accepted a dinner invitation from a man who had temporarily dicknotized her, broken her heart, and then announced that he loved her.
If the smoky eye and red lip reminded Gage that he was in fact a big dumb idiot, well, that was just a bonus.
Buttercup grumbled in the passenger seat.
“Stop judging me,” I told her. “Someday when you’re a grown-up doggie and you get your heart broken by a boy—or girl—doggie, you’ll understand.”
Buttercup was indifferent to my sharing and began an enthusiastic grooming of her nether regions.
I wondered if I should have done a more intensive grooming just in case Gage pulled off the impossible and managed to officially earn my forgiveness.
No, that was ridiculous. For once in my life, I was going to be logical about something.
I wasn’t going to jump into a second chance without weighing every single option carefully. I owed it to myself…and my dog.
The rattle in the car door intensified, drowning out Freddie Mercury’s high note. “Damn it all to hell,” I snapped, whipping my car off to the side of the road. “I have had it with this stupid rattle!”
I threw open my door and violently jiggled the handle with both hands. The rattle echoed in my brain.
“Stupid, dumb, terrible rattle,” I said through gritted teeth as I felt around the door panel, looking for a way in. “Aha! The speaker grille thing is loose,” I said to Buttercup, who was watching me with her head cocked.
I yanked off the cage, and the speaker immediately fell out of the door, dangling by its wires. I shoved my hand in the hole the speaker left and felt around inside the door. My fingers brushed something…weird.
“What in the…”
I nearly pulled a neck muscle, but I managed to get a grip on the item and pull it out.
I blinked in disbelief at the cause of weeks of annoyance. It was an entire roll of dimes.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I murmured, shaking my head.
Buttercup cocked her head to the other side, trying to understand.
I stared up at the sunset looking for some kind of answer. Buttercup looked up too and gave a little bark.
But there was no response for either of us.
I finally managed to return the speaker to its hole and pulled back onto the road.
“This is not a sign from someone’s deceased brother-in-law that I never even met.
This is just a coincidence,” I insisted as I drove.
I turned onto Gage’s lane as dusk settled on the land.
My headlights washed over the house. I was hit by a longing so intense it took my breath away.
All the things that could have been. Things that I’d only dared to secretly hope for.
I stared down at the roll of dimes in my lap.
No. This was a mistake. Any kind of proximity to the man clouded my judgment. I was just about to turn the car around and find the nearest fast-food drive-thru that accepted coins when a barefoot Gage stepped out of the house with Nana as his shadow. Buttercup whimpered excitedly next to me.
“Ugh. I know. They do make a gorgeous picture, but remember, Gage is a butthead,” I grumbled. I parked in front of the garage and stuffed the dimes in my bag before getting out of the car. Buttercup nimbly hopped out after me.
I pointedly ignored Gage in favor of watching the dogs get reacquainted. Nana seemed like she was happy to see me specifically as opposed to her general joy over contact with a generic human. And she also seemed to be ecstatic about Buttercup’s presence.
The two of them began a series of high-speed zoomies around the car, leaving me no more excuses to avoid Gage.
“She missed you,” he observed. “So did I.”
“I missed her too,” I said, trying desperately not to look directly at him. He wore worn jeans slung low on his hips and an ancient gray T-shirt that would have ended up in my collection had I still been stealing his clothes. Despite the physical distance between us, I could smell his shower gel.
A delicious and completely unwanted shiver rolled up my spine when I remembered what those hands were capable of in the shower.
This had been a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here tonight. I should have insisted on a less sexy meal in a more public place. Breakfast in a fluorescent-lit diner with coffee stains on the table. Booths that made fart noises when you scooted across them.
“I made steaks,” he said, hooking his thumb toward the deck.
“Sounds good,” I said, not moving.
It’s possible we would have stood there all night if it weren’t for Nana hurling herself into my driver’s seat through the open door and laying both front paws on the horn. Buttercup froze mid-zoomie.
“I am suing you if your dog teaches my dog that trick,” I yelled over the blaring horn.
“Damn it, Nana,” Gage grumbled, pulling Nana out of the car and shutting the door.
He released her, and she and Buttercup took off into the inky evening, racing across the cool grass.
Visions of skunks and other nocturnal dangers ratcheted up my anxiety. What if Buttercup ran into the woods? What if a bear mistook her for a sandwich? What if a cow stepped on her? What if she didn’t come back?
“She’s fine. The skunk has been relocated, and Buttercup doesn’t leave Nana’s side,” Gage said, reading my mind.
He gestured for me to take the ramp up to the deck first. I was glad I was wearing my great-ass jeans, so I knew his view was impressive. Unfortunately, so was mine.
He’d turned the fire table on and added candles.
The string lights that cast a cozy glow above us were disco balls.
The table was set for romance with wineglasses and actual cloth fucking napkins.
I stopped abruptly, and Gage ran into me.
The feel of his front to my back was electric.
The solid heat of him reincarnated a dozen clothing-optional memories.
“This is a mistake,” I announced.
“It’s just dinner,” he said, his mouth an inch from my ear.
His hands found my hips, and he guided me forward. His touch overpowered my capability for rational thought. I just wanted more. More of this, of him, of this place.
Shit. I was going to forgive him whether I wanted to or not. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
“Have a seat,” he said, pulling a chair out for me.
I collapsed into it like an abandoned puppet. He looked down at me, eyes smoldering, and then reached out to smooth a curl away from my face.
I refused to give in to the urge to purr. Instead, I pounced on the glass of water in front of my plate and guzzled it like I’d been lost in the desert for the last week.
Gage headed to the grill where he unveiled two mouthwatering steaks and a pair of mammoth foil-wrapped baked potatoes.
“You’re not going to throw those at me, are you?” I asked with suspicion. The side dish had lost its innocence since I’d moved to Story Lake.
“If anyone deserves to get hit with potatoes, it’s me,” he said, returning to the table and divvying up the food between our plates. The dogs galloped back onto the deck from their romp and stuck their faces in a water bowl against the railing.
“She really likes it here,” I noted as Buttercup flopped down on her side and pawed at Nana.
“She feels like a missing puzzle piece,” Gage said, not taking his eyes off me. “Do you want any wine?”
I shook my head. I needed to keep a clear, level head where he was concerned. “What are we doing here?” I asked as I attacked my steak.
“We’re just talking.”
“What’s left to say?” Damn it. The steak melted in my mouth like meat-flavored butter. Why did he have to be so stupidly good at everything?
“I love you, Zoey.”
There it was again. The proclamation that had my entire body freezing. The steak lodged itself in my throat, and after a brief coughing fit, I chugged the rest of my water. “Jesus, Gage.”
“What?”
“I thought you’d start with something like ‘Sorry for being an irredeemable shit waffle.’”
“Sorry for being an irredeemable shit waffle. I love you,” he said, a teasing smile playing on his mouth.
I buttered my potato with violence. “Look. I forgive you or whatever. We both knew what we were getting into when we started this disaster. And we both knew it wasn’t going to end well, so there’s no point in being upset about it.
And I was more sensitive about the rejection than I should have been.
So let’s just call it even. Thanks for the steak. ”
“Zoey, I want a second chance.”
“Nope.” I forked up a bite of potato, butter, and sour cream. Just because we weren’t getting back together didn’t mean I couldn’t at least enjoy the meal.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said.
My fork hit the plate with a clatter. “Oh, come on! You were not!”
He grinned. “It would have been too easy if you gave in. I have a case to make.”
“If you start quoting precedent, I’m out of here,” I warned before stuffing another bite of steak into my mouth.