13. Prue
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PRUE
TEN MONTHS LATER
I can't remember the last time I felt this way—completely exposed yet utterly safe.
Fox's body is warm against mine, our limbs tangled in my wrinkled sheets as Seattle rain taps gently against the bedroom window.
His fingers trace idle patterns on my bare shoulder, and I study his face in the dim light, memorizing the slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the shadow of stubble along his jaw.
"I can't do this anymore," I whisper, and his hand stills.
"Do what?" His voice is carefully neutral, but I feel the sudden tension in his muscles. “Talk to me, baby. Whatever is wrong, we can fix it.”
I prop myself up on one elbow, letting the sheet fall away. "This. Pretending. Acting like I'm not completely stupidly in love with you every time we're back in Cedar Bay. Hiding whatever this is." I gesture between us. "I'm tired of it, Fox."
He watches me for a long moment, and my stomach twists. Maybe I've misread everything. What if I'm just the sex-starved designer he hooks up with when he's in the city? God, I'm an idiot.
"I want to move to Cedar Bay," I blurt out before I can stop myself. "Permanently."
His eyes widen, and the most beautiful smile spreads across his face. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious. I want the whole small-town, gossip-mill, everyone-in-your-business package deal. I want to wake up with you every morning without checking if someone might see my car parked outside your place."
Fox pulls me on top of him, his hands sliding down to my hips. "I'll build you a house," he says against my lips. "Whatever you want. Modern, traditional, something in between?—"
I laugh, cutting him off with a kiss. "You better build me an office and showroom too. I’ll need a place to open up the Cedar Bay branch of Griffin Designs." I've been thinking about this for weeks and even crunched numbers during whatever time I can find.
"Done," he says, rolling us over so he's hovering above me. "I know the perfect spot. That piece of land overlooking the bay?—"
"With the big maple trees?" I gasp, arching against him as his mouth finds my neck.
"Mmm-hmm," he murmurs against my skin. "Already bought it last month."
I freeze beneath him. "You what?"
He lifts his head, looking slightly sheepish. "I may have been hoping you'd want to stay."
Something warm and overwhelming floods my chest. "Fox Carmichael, you sneaky, presumptuous?—"
He silences me with another kiss, deeper this time, his body pressing into mine in all the right places. When we finally break apart, breathless, I can't help but laugh.
"We should put this place on the market," I say, glancing around my Seattle bungalow, which suddenly feels cold and impersonal compared to the future I imagine.
"Tomorrow," Fox agrees, his hands already wandering again. "Right now, I think we should celebrate our decision."
As his mouth moves down my body, I close my eyes and thread my fingers through his hair, anchoring myself as sensation washes over me.
How did I get here? Prudence Griffin—the woman who swore off serious relationships after Alan left me with nothing but a broken engagement and trust issues that could fill a book.
"You're overthinking," Fox murmurs against my inner thigh, his breath hot against my skin.
"Sorry," I gasp as his mouth finds its target. "Professional hazard."
For a while, there's no more talking, just the sound of rain and our breathing, growing more ragged by the second.
Fox knows exactly how to touch me and has memorized every curve and sensitive spot of my body with the same precision he applies to his construction projects.
Builder's hands—that's what I thought the first time I saw him, callused and strong. Now I know just how gentle they can be.
When I come apart beneath him, crying out his name, he moves back up my body with a satisfied grin.
"That's more like it," he says, and I smack his shoulder playfully.
"So smug."
"Just appreciative." He kisses me deeply, and I taste myself on his lips. "So, when do we start packing?"
I laugh, still catching my breath. "Eager to get me to Cedar Bay, are you?"
"You have no idea." His expression turns serious. "Do you think your clients will follow you there?"
"I have clients everywhere. Those in northern Oregon will.
" I trace the outline of his collarbone.
"And I've built enough of a reputation that I can work remotely with others.
Cedar Bay's becoming trendy with all those tech people buying vacation homes.
They'll need someone to make them look appropriately rustic-chic. "
"Rustic-chic, huh?" He raises an eyebrow.
"It's a thing. Trust me." I roll onto my side, propped on one elbow. "What about you? Won't your crew miss you while you're building our dream house?"
Our dream house. The words hang between us––weighty and wonderful.
"Rowan and Cole can handle things for a while." Fox's fingers trail down my spine. "Besides, I've been saving this project. Something special."
"For me?"
"For us."
Two simple words, but they make my heart flip. Us. After years of me, myself, and I, there's an us. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
"Cilla's going to be insufferable," I groan, suddenly thinking of my sister. "She's been trying to convince me to move for months.”
Fox chuckles. "Rowan, too. And he did threaten to break my legs if I left for Seattle.
"What about your parents? Will they be okay with this? With me?" I ask,
"Are you kidding? My mom's been asking when I'm going to 'make an honest woman' out of you since the first time she caught us making eyes at each other over Sunday dinner."
I swallow hard. "Is that... something you want?"
He studies my face. "Is that something you're ready for?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with possibilities. Six months ago, I would have run screaming from this conversation.
"Now, I think," I say carefully, "Things will happen as they should.
Fox's smile is gentle. "I can work with that." He kisses my forehead. "I'm a patient man."
"Since when?" I tease, and he rolls me beneath him again.
"Fair point," he concedes, settling between my thighs. "But for you, Prudence Griffin, I'll wait as long as it takes."
As he slides into me, slow and deliberate, I decide that maybe—just maybe—I won't make him wait too long after all.