Chapter 40
chapter
forty
MAREN
Nate kisses my palm, and I’m pretty sure even the butterflies in my stomach sigh the dreamiest of sighs.
We hit the pothole near Cream and Sugar, bouncing along in his Jeep until the lights of the downtown square twinkle to life.
“I’ve come to like this pothole, after all,” he muses. “Feels like it announces the arrival at your truck.”
I settle farther into my seat and grip his arm tighter, silently laughing over the few times Nate and I ran into each other in town over the years. How we’d fixate on mundane topics—like this very pothole—just to avoid the heavy things we really wanted to say.
How things have blossomed.
“I hope it never gets filled,” I say, smiling.
The sun is setting, casting a dim glow over the people exiting Daphne’s boutique with pink bags in hand. Others chat outside Quintin’s with ice cream cones between them, their matching grins wide.
A young girl wipes tables outside Bready or Knot, the edge of the yellow awning overhead swaying in the breeze.
It’s a typical weeknight in Sapphire Creek—for seemingly everyone but Nate and me.
It’s our first date in ten years, and the energy buzzing in this Jeep has me all twirly inside.
There’s a word I’ve never used to describe myself, but it’s the only one appropriate for this feeling.
Nate makes me twirly as fuck, especially when he idly traces circles on my upper thigh like he is now. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it, as if it’s just natural to constantly touch me.
Last night, while we talked on my couch, I don’t think he ever stopped touching me—his fingers in my hair, his thigh against mine, his lips sweeping my jaw.
We talked long after the sun set. About the conversation with his parents that led him to my house. Sabrina and Teagan. Being a parent and what a challenge it can be, especially as his daughter is getting older and asking a lot of questions.
All the while, something inside me healed. The brokenhearted teenage girl who once sat in that same living room can finally smile.
Because the piece of my heart that I gave away a long time ago finally clicked back into place.
As we come to a stoplight on the edge of town, Nate places another kiss on my palm, and heat blooms from there to the rest of my body, simmering just under the surface of my skin.
His hand then glides over my jeans and rests above my knee. With his other hand on the steering wheel, he turns the car, the remaining sunlight glinting off the face of his watch. He stretches his long fingers and uses the heel of his palm to steer the car, and my eyelids suddenly feel heavy.
Even the way Nate drives is sexy.
I squirm in my seat, ready to burst unless I divert my attention—stat.
“How are things with your parents?” I ask softly. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to air out that dirty laundry, and I’m worried about them as much as I am Nate. “Are they okay?”
“My mom has baked me dozens of scones, and my father gave me a homemade coupon book to cash in for any house repairs.” Nate shakes his head as the sky darkens over the passing fields.
A few thick clouds hang low, masking any early signs of stars.
“They’re actually apologizing for being too upbeat my whole life.
This morning, I got a text from my dad telling me to have a sucky day at work. ”
This draws a soft laugh from me. It’s just like RJ to try and backtrack for something he and Evie should never have felt badly about to begin with. They love their son and want him to know it’s unconditional. To me, it’s beautiful.
But I can also understand the other side of that coin. It’s a matter of balance, and I’m optimistic that the McAllisters will find it.
Nate blows out a long breath. “They’re going to keep this up for eternity, and karma is going to bite me in the ass. I’m going to have to do major groveling.”
I place my hand over his on my leg. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Neither did they, but they blame themselves, much like I do. It’s a McAllister family trait, I guess.” He taps the steering wheel as we cruise out of town. “You might have to teach me how to play Bridge. Could be the only way my mom will let this go.”
“I can do that.” I rest my temple against the seat and peer into his dark eyes. “Happily.”
“Why do you sound so excited?”
“Because there’s nothing sexier than a man playing Bridge.” I poke his chest.
“Hmm…” At a stop sign with no one around, he dips to capture my mouth with his. “Talk Bridge to me, Lightning.”
“Trick, dummy, double,” I coo, my voice intentionally breathy against his clean-shaven jaw.
“So hot,” he plays along.
My laughter gets the best of me, and I throw my head back, my chest light and muscles at ease. I haven’t felt this weightless in a long time.
“Where are we going tonight, anyway?”
“It’s a surprise.” He winks. “I think you’ll like it.”
“I trust you.”
And I do—I trust Nathan McAllister with my whole heart.
It was never more clear to me than last night. I’ve always been comfortable around him, even when I found him to be extremely intimidating, but seeing him under a new light, wearing raw vulnerability on his sleeve, has given me a whole new appreciation for him—and us.
We’re still a work in progress. No matter how long two people have known each other like we have, relationships are always complicated and messy, with loads of gray areas.
Relationships require dedication and work.
You can fight for your happy ending, or you can drown in the chaos of the journey. Nate and I are the fighting type.
“Guess it pays to have knuckleheaded friends,” Nate muses, referring to Cole, Owen, and Austin. The foursome has gotten together at least one night a week since Nate moved back. He points around the steering wheel toward a clearing under a canopy of leafy trees. “They have good ideas sometimes.”
“I’d say this is a really good idea.” My heart skips as he throws the Jeep into park.
Neither of us moves.
Spread in front of us is a small section of the trickling river, the water low from lack of rain the last couple of weeks.
Trees stand tall, their leaves various shades of green and yellow, and a few rocks line the far side to our right, where they cut off the stretch of bank and disappear into the water.
With the sun setting, the sky is painted with layers of pink and orange, and a few thick clouds hang overhead.
Birds flit from one tree to the next, and the breeze carries with it a few leaves across the front of the Jeep.
In the center of it all, a few rocks outline a pile of logs of various sizes, which are stacked haphazardly like a game of Jenga, just begging to be lit and enjoyed under the evening sky.
“Wow,” I whisper. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’ve never been here before?” The surprise in his voice is loud and clear.
“I don’t do much outside the coffee truck or the Tap,” I lament.
“This is my first time here too, so I guess that means it’s a first for us.” He threads his fingers through mine over the console.
“I like that.”
Tonight, we continue our fresh start with a place neither one of us has been before. We didn’t come here as a couple in high school, and it’s not somewhere we’ve ever come with anyone else.
It’s just ours.
Nate jogs around the front of the Jeep and opens my door. Once he’s guided me onto solid ground, my front skimming his, he clenches his jaw and whispers something about grabbing our things.
But he doesn’t move.
And I lose myself in the way the colorful sky reflects off the dark hues of his eyes in a kaleidoscope of mystery and adoration. It’s mesmerizing.
“Do you, um…” I lick my lips and drop my gaze to his mouth, his chiseled jaw still screwed tight like it’s difficult for him to be this close to me without kissing me.
I know the feeling.
A bird squawks overhead, and I finally find my voice. “Do you need help with anything?”
“You could say that.” His eyes further darken, and his smirk is enough to indicate his dirty mind is imagining just that—something dirty.
I swat at his chest, laughing.
He captures my hand with his and squeezes. “I’ve got it.”
With a wicker picnic basket in hand, he leads us toward the pile of wood. A few cans are scattered about, along with a couple of plastic candy wrappers wedged between pebbles leading to the river.
Nate slides a plastic bag from the basket and starts picking up the trash. “Austin will thank me later.”
I follow his lead, curiosity inching its way up my throat.
As if Nate reads my mind, he explains, “He was complaining of people’s lack of decency around here with the littering.”
“He’s right. It’s downright tragic.” I scan the open area again, appreciating how simple yet breathtaking the scenery is. “A place this gorgeous shouldn’t be tainted with this shit.”
With two empty cans in hand, I spin in place, tilt my head back, and close my eyes, relishing in the breeze across my cheeks.
“Do we have the spot to ourselves?” I open one eye to peek at him, and his expression darkens again.
“According to the local chatter, everyone is busy hosting family for Thanksgiving. There’s also some big concert in Savannah tonight that all the teens are attending.”
“I’d say that’s a yes, then.” I give him a small, daring grin, and he shoots one of his own right back to me.
He plops the basket by our feet, tucks the loose waves of hair behind my ear, and angles my face to the side, where he captures my lips in a kiss so tender and full that it should have its own holiday.
His lips sweep across mine with purpose, like it’s his sole mission to light me on fire with this kiss alone. When he finally does tear himself away, he leans his forehead to mine. “I planned to be a gentleman and wait to kiss you, but right now… I can’t remember why.”
“Manners are overrated.”
“Don’t let the ladies in town hear you say that,” he teases back.
The scratch of his voice lingers over me, lapping across my flushed skin as he kisses me again, my cheek cupped in his large palm.
It’s a slow, sensual kiss that makes my head spin long after it’s over.
But it does come to an end when I shudder—partly because of the effect Nate has on me, but also because of the chill in the evening air.
One side of his lip tilts upward. “As much as I also hate manners, I can’t, in good conscience, leave you freezing. Let’s start a fire.”
I spread a blanket and ease onto it while small flames flicker to life. I’m just realizing how cold I am—my nose is probably redder than a tomato—but the ever-growing fire chases away the bite in the air.
Nate sinks onto his heels beside me and digs into the picnic basket.
With his back to me, I can’t see inside. “Are you going to show me what’s in there, or are you not going to share?”
“It’s a picnic, complete with wine, a cheese and cracker plate, plus turkey pesto pinwheels.” He holds a hand up over his shoulder. “But don’t worry. I didn’t make any of it.”
“Disappointing.”
“You should be thanking me for sparing you. You remember the French toast story, don’t you?”
“Of course. It was cute.”
“I don’t think you’re remembering it correctly.”
“I remember it just fine.”
Chuckling, he presents the items, one by one, and the flame doubles by the time he’s finished. “And lastly…” Nate grips the bottle of Cabernet by the neck. “The wine.”
“Oh, God. Are you sure we shouldn’t hide the wine? The last time we shared a bottle, we ended up naked in your kitchen.”
“And that was a bad thing?” He leans down until he’s an inch from my lips, rendering me speechless. “Because I remember you thinking it was very… very good.”
My gulp is audible. It echoes like we’re in a cave instead of out in the open. “Guess I’m still getting used to not fighting this,” I whisper. “To just trust my feelings.”
“And what feelings are these exactly?”
“I probably shouldn’t say.” I lift a shoulder and rest my chin there, backing away from him with mischief up my sleeve. “It is the first date, after all. Can’t give all my cards away so soon.”
“How about I just kiss you then?” He hovers over my lips again, moving with me like we’re tethered by a rope.
We’ve kissed plenty of times—and done far more—over the last few weeks, but it feels new in so many ways. I’m still getting used to not having to keep my hands and mouth to myself anymore.
I meet him in the middle, sealing my lips over his and reveling in the taste of him. I cling to him with both hands, his sweater twisted in my white-knuckled grip like I need the extra reminder that this is real and not merely the dream I’ve had on repeat for years.
My stomach growls, betraying me by interrupting the magic of the moment.
But then Nate’s eyes land on me, full of sparkling promises. His breathing flips a switch into an unsteady rhythm, and his dimples pop as he beams. “Best date ever.”
“We haven’t even started it yet.”
“I stand by my statement,” he says with a wink and reaches for the wine.
Once again, the echo of my gulp rings out between us, and my heart flounders for its next beat.
A distinct warmth gathers in my chest and blossoms until I feel it everywhere.
I’m falling in love with Nate in ways I never did as a teen. This is something familiar and new all at once, and for the first time in my life, I’m not scared to run with this feeling.
I’m finally ready to spread my arms wide and chase it all the way to my happy ending.