Chapter Twenty-Two
Alicia
Checking the signatures took longer than normal, though it was also less boring.
Remi had offered to help, but I turned him down.
I shouldn’t have; it would have gone faster, but then he’d probably go back to his place.
There wouldn’t be any excuse for him to stay with me.
He turned on Archer because he knew I had seen it before and it wouldn’t be too distracting, but he was the real distraction in the room.
At some point, Furgie had crawled onto his lap and was snoring gently into the crook of his elbow as he stroked the soft hair on top of her head.
It was so goddamn cute. I could have died just from the sight of it.
“Done,” I finally said setting my pen down on the coffee table.
I lifted my arms over my head and stretched back against the sofa groaning.
Even though my eyes were closed I could have sworn that he was watching me.
The caress of his gaze lingered on the slope of my neck and over the curves of my breasts.
I was definitely imagining things. I’d been imagining things for a while .
. . and my vibrator just couldn’t do the trick.
I got off, of course, and it helped with the constant .
. . yearning—was that what this was? God, I yearned.
I needed to feel someone else’s body on mine. It was almost compulsive, this reflex to reach out and touch. And the more time that passed, I was becoming less certain that just anyone would be able to quiet the insistent noise in my head.
Remi was all I could think about. It was like the first time I’d seen him the semester before we actually met in that lecture hall.
He was strolling across the courtyard outside of the cafeteria with a backpack over one shoulder and baggy jeans and vans on his feet.
My mouth had actually fallen open. I positioned myself at that same window for the next two weeks just to catch another glimpse of him.
It was in vain; I didn’t see him again until the class we shared.
But I thought about him constantly, I concocted a personality for him that was quiet and broody—nothing actually like him. Yet somehow, the real him was better than my imagination. He was funnier, smarter, and he made an effort with my friends.
Now, the man he was over a decade later was better than my memory. I couldn’t bring myself to think about anybody else; even Theo James interviews and movies couldn’t distract me from Remi.
Lowering my arms, I looked over my shoulder to find him looking down at the sleeping Furgie, so I clearly was imagining him looking at me.
Maybe he didn’t think time had been as kind to me as it was to him.
Society definitely conditioned men and women to perceive aging differently; men got the privilege of getting hotter while women were supposed to do everything in our power to never age a day.
It was bullshit, and I’d think less of him if he felt that way about me.
That somehow I would be less desirable because time had passed, but him thinking that would also really hurt.
I wanted him to want me as desperately as I wanted him.
God, this was torture.
This ill-advised crush.
“Does that mean we get cupcakes now?” he asked in a low rumble that shot electricity through my body.
“Is that all you’ve been thinking about this whole time?”
He grinned down at Furgie making it impossible for me to judge the tone of his expression. “I will not justify that question with a response.”
“I guess you’ve been good enough to get a treat.”
This time he smiled at me, and my toes curled under the coffee table in response. “I thought I was a guest. I didn’t realize we were on the merit system.”
“We’re on whatever system I decide.” I shrugged.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Tell me more about these treats, are they from Country Grounds?”
“Yes, I’m kinda obsessed at this point. It’s gonna be hard to leave that place when I’m done here.”
“I mean, Chicago is no slouch on baked goods.”
“That’s true.”
A muscle flexed in his neck as he swallowed. “You won’t miss anything else about this place?”
It was as if he’d thrown out a fishing line baited with exactly the flavor I was looking for, and I must avoid it under every single circumstance.
I pushed myself up to stand needing distance from the sharp cut of his jaw.
“It’s a cute town, but every place I go to for work is good.
There’s always something there to love.”
He snorted gently moving Furgie onto the cushion next to him. Standing, he shifted his clothing that had clung in places that I craved more than anything my kitchen could store. “Yeah, but some places more than others.”
Maybe it was because I’d turned my back, walking away from him into the other room, that made me brave enough to ask, “Would you ever move again? Or are you here for-like-ever?”
“Uh . . .”
I didn’t dare turn to face him with how hotly my cheeks burned.
“If I met someone,” he began, “and this wasn’t the place for her, if she liked living in a city or something, I’d move.”
Pulling the cupcake containers from the cupboard, I avoided his eye. “But it’d be a sacrifice, right? Like you really feel at home here.”
“It would be a sacrifice I’d make willingly.”
“So, you want to fall in love and get married and all of that?”
His response was so careful, words picked out deliberately. “I still want everything I wanted with you.”
My eyes stung, but I refused to allow the feelings choking me to surface.
He might have been able to clock that my smile was fake as I shoved the vanilla cupcake with chocolate frosting into his too broad chest—like really, what was the purpose in being so goddamn large?
What was the purpose in saying all the right things now?
Anger consumed whatever else wanted to bubble to the surface. “Well, all I have is baked goods. I hope that’s enough.”
There was a sadness in the curve of his smile. “It’s enough.”
Ugh. Shut up.
But I didn’t really mean it, and I reminded myself that it was a sign of my personal growth that I only thought it instead of screaming it at him or shoving a cupcake in his face.
“What about you?” he asked, catching me off guard. “What do you want?”
“To save this wetland and get home,” I said ignoring his deeper meaning. It was true, but there was no denying “home” felt a lot more like him than Chicago.
With the cupcake in his hand, he ate about half of it in one bite. “Do you have more signatures to get?”
“Yeah, there were a lot of duplicates.” I covered my mouth with one hand as I spoke around a mouthful of chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. “I just have this feeling like time’s running out. Frost laws will lift soonish, and that’s bad news for me.”
He tilted his head in question.
“Because semi’s are so much heavier, they cause a lot more damage to the roads, and while the ground is frozen there are certain roads they can’t go on unless they have a special permit.
Our lawyer at the capitol has heard that they’re already applying for driveway permits and such.
They must be getting pretty close to finalizing the purchase of the land, and I might still be able to fight the land’s development at that time, but it’ll be harder and a complete reset of my strategy.
My limitations are set by how warm it gets and how quickly the ground thaws. ”
“And it’s supposed to be in the forties next week,” he observed.
I nodded. “My best chance of winning is changing the zoning before the property is sold. Even if I get the signatures, a vote still has to happen and pass. Time’s running out.”
I could feel it like a physical thing. A ticking in my chest, a bomb about to go off.
“Hmm.” Remi swallowed his last bite. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just keep helping me get signatures and whatever sway you have to win the vote when we get it.”
“I don’t know how much I could do there, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Please, Remi, you have to know how popular you around here. Hell, I hadn’t even lived here for a day, and I was warned that my neighbor was really hot. I think the name was doc-too-hottie; not exactly a catchy nickname but it speaks for itself.”
“Does it?” His eyes lit with amusement.
I rolled my eyes. “Does your ego need me to tell you you’re hot?”
“Would you, for my ego?”
I was ready to say the truth, but I wasn’t willing to do it with full sincerity. Stuffing the rest of my chocolate cake in my mouth, I mumbled, “You’re like really hot.”
“You’re so hot,” he retorted, laughing and shaking his head.
“You really think so?” I smiled back knowing my teeth must be covered with masticated cake.
“God, I do. You have a little frosting”—he gestured at the whole front of his face.
“Do I really? How could that have happened?”
He snorted. “It’s a mystery. Here.”
I froze when he reached for me, knowing how his thumb would brush my cheek. A shiver ran up my spine at his touch—then he swiped at my chin and nose sending my sexy-to-funny ratio too far in the funny direction for my liking. It left me wondering if the joke had been worth it.
“You wild animal,” he practically growled, and I felt it through my whole body.
On the pad of his thumb was a dollop of frosting. He went to suck it clean.
“That’s mine,” I blurted out, clearly too fogged up on raw emotion, his attention, and lust to have any control over my mouth or actions. I took hold of his wrist in both hands.
Slowly, he shook his head from side-to-side while holding my gaze. “You always were food protective.”
My body shook with laughter, but I didn’t let him go.
No one had ever made me laugh like he did, the pitch of it a bit brighter in my ears, it sounded good with his.
His beautiful smile, wide and lined. The crinkles pressed deeper at the corners of his eyes.
And his lips full and pink, they looked so soft. I remembered the press of his mouth.
I wanted it with a dizzying intensity.
My judgment hid within a cloud.
I leaned forward needing the clarity of his kiss. I’d understand everything if I could just rest my mouth on his. Taste what I’d missed for—how long had it been? It felt like an eternity. It felt like I had found this lost part of me. The part of me I left behind on that doorstep in the rain—
Gasping, I pulled back, releasing my grip and taking a step away.