9. Fox
CHAPTER NINE
FOX
" A ll set?" Rowan asks, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. We've been finishing up the Miller's bathroom renovation all afternoon, and the August heat is making even the usually air-conditioned main suite feel like a sauna.
"Yeah, I just need to seal this grout, and we're good." I run my hand over the herringbone tile pattern we just installed. Not bad for a rush job. The craftsmanship matters to me, even when we're under the gun.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, trying not to get grout dust on the screen. It's Prue.
Prue: Just passed the Cedar Bay sign. See you in 10.
Something flutters in my chest. I've been checking my phone all day, waiting for this message.
"Prue's almost here," I say, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.
Rowan grins knowingly. "Yeah, Cilla texted me. She's been tracking her sister's drive up, ensuring she doesn't chicken out."
"Wait, what?" I look up sharply. "Why would she chicken out?"
Rowan shrugs, wiping down the new vanity. "Relax, man. Prue's just cautious. Cilla says she hasn't done the whole weekend-away thing with anyone since her ex."
"She didn't mention that." I frown, setting down my trowel. "Maybe this is too much pressure. I should've just suggested dinner or something."
"Now, who's chickening out?" Rowan laughs, then holds up his hands when I glare at him. "Look, all I'm saying is, take it slow with Prue. She's not like the women you usually date."
"I don't 'usually date' anyone," I mutter, gathering our tools. "And I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean anyway."
Rowan sighs. "Prue's been through some shit with her ex. He did a number on her confidence. Cilla says she's built up these walls, you know? You gotta take it day by day."
I snort. "That's rich coming from you. Weren't you practically living at Cilla's place two weeks after you met her?"
"That's different," he says, not meeting my eyes.
"How? Because it's your relationship and not mine?"
"No, because..." He hesitates, then sighs. "Because Prue's different, okay? Cilla knew what she wanted right away––she was just worried about timing. Prue overthinks everything. She analyzes relationships like they're architectural blueprints."
I shove tools into my bag with more force than necessary. "I get it. She's complicated. Message received."
"I'm not trying to be a dick," Rowan says, his voice softening. "I just don't want to see either of you get hurt. You're both important to me."
That takes some of the fight out of me. Rowan's been my best friend since kindergarten, so he's not wrong to be concerned.
"I know," I concede. "And I appreciate it. But I've got this, okay? I'm not going to push her."
He nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Now let's get this shit cleaned up so you can go home and pretend you haven't been stress-cleaning your house all week."
"Fuck you," I say without heat, and he laughs.
We finished in record time. As I drive back to my place, Rowan's words keep echoing in my head: Take it slow, day by day—Prue's different.
I know she is. That’s why I’ve fallen in love with her.
I pull into my driveway, checking my watch. I've got about twenty minutes before Prue arrives. The house is clean and dinner prepped, but suddenly, I'm second-guessing everything. Is my room presumptuous?
"Get it together, Carmichael," I mutter, heading inside.
I shower quickly, change into clean clothes, and check that everything's ready. The lasagna is warm in the oven. Wine is breathing on the counter. The deck is swept, with the fire pit ready to go for later if she wants to sit outside and watch the stars.
Not that I've been planning this obsessively or anything.
I'm straightening couch pillows for the third time when headlights sweep across my front window. My heart skips a beat, which is ridiculous. I'm thirty-one years old, not some teenager waiting for his prom date.
But when I step onto the porch and see her sitting in her car, hands still on the wheel, like she's deciding whether to stay or go, I feel the same pull I felt when we met—like gravity has shifted, and I'm drawn toward her orbit.
I don't wave or call out. I wait, giving Prue space to make her choice. And when she finally opens her car door and steps out, the smile that breaks across her face feels like the sun coming out after a storm.
"Hi," she says, tucking dark hair behind her ear. She's wearing jeans and a soft blue sweater that matches her eyes. She's less polished than usual but even more beautiful.
"Hi," I answer, coming down the steps to meet her. "Good drive?"
"Not bad." She glances past me at the house, then back to my face. "This place is lovelier than I remember. I don’t think I took a good look at your garden the last time I was here. It looks like you’ve worked hard on it."
"Thanks." I resist the urge to pull her into my arms. Take it slow, I remind myself. "Can I get your bag?"
"Oh, sure." She pops the trunk, and I lift out a modestly-sized weekender. "I'm a light packer."
"Good. Leaves more room for souvenirs." I smile, and she laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in the air.
"Are there actually souvenirs in Cedar Bay? Let me guess – tiny lighthouses and mugs that say 'Life's a Bay'?"
"Don't forget the cedar wood carvings and saltwater taffy," I add, leading her up the steps. We're very on-brand."
She follows me inside, and I watch as she takes in my home – the open floor plan, the large windows facing the water, the simple but comfortable furniture. I see it through her eyes and wonder what the interior designer in her thinks of my bachelor pad.
"Those windows are incredible. Did you do the renovations yourself?"
"Most of them. Rowan helped with the deck and some of the electrical." I set her bag down, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands. "Can I get you something to drink? Wine? Beer? Water?"
"Wine would be great." She slips off her shoes, lining them up neatly by the door. It's such a small thing, but it makes my chest tight. It's like she's already making herself at home.
I pour a glass of red for each of us, which I've saved for a special occasion. When I hand hers over, our fingers brush, and there it is – that same spark I always feel in her presence. I know she feels it, too, from how her eyes widen slightly.
"I prepped some lasagna this morning," I say, nodding toward the kitchen. "Nothing fancy, but I’ll just need to heat it up for you."
"That sounds perfect." She takes a sip of wine, her eyes never leaving mine. "And it smells amazing. I'm starving. I was too nervous to eat lunch."
"Nervous?" I can't help asking.
She blushes, the color spreading across her cheeks. "A little. Coming here is a big move for me.”
"What, eating lasagna?" I tease gently.
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "No, this feels like it’s getting serious. It's not my style. At least it hasn’t been in a while."
"If it helps, I think we should slow things down. Take things day by day." I take a step closer, close enough to catch the scent of her perfume. "But I'm glad you came."
"Me too," she says softly, and for a moment, we stand there, the air between us charged with possibility.
Then her stomach growls loudly, and we laugh, the tension broken.
"Come on," I say, gesturing toward the kitchen. "Let's feed you before you pass out. I didn't lure you to Cedar Bay to have you faint on my living room floor."
"Oh?" She raises an eyebrow, following me. "What exactly did you lure me here for, Fox Carmichael?"
The way she says my name makes my pulse quicken. Take it slow–– Rowan's words replay in my head.
"To show you the best sunset in Oregon," I say, opening the oven. "And to feed you my mom's lasagna. The rest..." I look up, meeting her eyes across the kitchen island. "The rest is up to you."
She holds my gaze, something shifting in her expression. "Day by day, huh?"
"Day by day," I agree, and the smile she gives me then is worth every minute of waiting.