31. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
B rody
I’m seated in the room’s sitting area, waiting for Ivy. Thirty minutes ago, she stole into the bathroom under the pretext of getting ready. I know she already showered, so what’s the holdup?
I rein in my desire to knock and ask why she’s been there so long. It’s a date, not a drill.
A date . I still can’t believe she agreed. She’d looked wary when I asked. Maybe she thought I was playing a game or making an elaborate joke.
I’d never, not about something like this. She deserves a break. She’s been running around for too long. She needs to unwind.
I glance at my watch. If only she’d come out of the damned bathroom.
The door opens, ushering her out.
Good lord .
An unknown force pulls me to my feet. My jaw grows slack, and my head spins.
A red dress clings to Ivy’s frame, and her thick, brunette hair pours over bare shoulders. The neckline of the crimson seduction hangs just above her rounded breasts. Enough to give a hint of smooth, creamy cleavage and nothing more.
I swallow thickly as she sashays my way. I thought I was giving her a treat when I asked for a date, but this is turning out to be a reward for me. For what? I don’t know.
“Hey.” She stops before me, dark-lined eyes drinking me in.
“Hi.” My voice comes out hoarse. I clear my throat and try again. “Hi.”
She giggles, parting red lips to show a dazzling smile.
Fuck. I’m blinded, but I can’t look away.
“Brody, I’m sure we need to get going.”
“Yes, yes.” My head snaps back in place. “You just look so... good.”
Shit. Of all the words. I want to say something profound. Something meaningful that captures how this moment makes me feel. Nothing comes to my head but taking her in my arms and kissing her until I forget my name.
“Thank you?” A frown lines the spot between her brows.
“I’m...” I exhale. I’d never find the words standing here and looking into arresting greens. “Let’s go.”
She grabs a burgundy coat and slips her arms in. The ties come together, hiding her luscious body. Damn the biting cold. I’d have preferred her strutting in that dress the whole way.
Wait, no. I can’t think that way. Tonight is about her, not me. I tear my eyes from her and put on a wool jacket.
All done, I place a hand on her lower back and usher us out of the room.
Tucked away in the car and headed to the restaurant, I steal glances at Ivy’s profile. She fixes her gaze outside the window at the glistening silvery landscape. I can’t see her face, but her brushed-back hair gives me a view of the beautiful, silky skin of her neck.
I’m suddenly no longer interested in dinner. I want to eat her instead. I want to taste every inch of her and then love each spot until she comes apart in my arms.
We turn onto a freshly plowed road, and she spins my way. “Are we headed to the mountains?”
I blink quickly to dispel the onslaught of feelings her eyes stir in me. “You’ll see. It’s someplace special.”
She grants me a small smile and resumes watching the falling snow. The view is compelling. I clutch the wheel harder to remind myself not to get distracted since I’m in charge of our slow ascent up the steep climb. But it brings me pleasure to see Ivy soaking it all up.
The whirring engine and the tires crunching the snow on the tarmac are the only sounds in the still, white night. The higher we go, the colder the air that nips at my ears and cheeks. Ivy’s unbothered, her face half-outside, getting the most of it.
She seems to like the ride, so I hope she likes the place I’ve chosen, because I love how she’s come.
A final curve past the snowcapped hill brings us to the restaurant. Ivy’s reaction brings me no small pride.
She steps out of the car and twirls beneath the snowflakes falling like heaven’s confetti. “We’re surrounded by mountains!”
Indeed. In every direction, mountains rise, covered in frost made glossy by the wan moonlight.
A chill passes through me as my boot hits the icy ground. If the cold bothers Ivy, she gives no indication, face turned to the sky.
“This place is incredible,” she laughs, wiping a snowflake off her nose.
“It is,” I say coolly, but I’m bubbling over in my head. I’m wrapping my arms around her and telling her it’s all for her, asking her to soak it in.
“...I wonder what the inside would look like.” Her words bring me back to the moment.
I snap my head out of those sappy thoughts as our feet crunch snow on our way into the grand interiors of the restaurant.
Rustic wood with green potted plants, and growers in the beams overhead, give the feeling of being outside in the summer. Which is a stark contrast to the white outdoors. Warmth phases out the chill from the cold night. A blazing fireplace in the corner of the space pops and crackles as flames swallow up the wood to illuminate the area in warm orange light.
Ivy pulls off her coat. I fight for control not to gawk at every inch she reveals. Looking away, I take off my jacket. Snowflakes rain down as I hang both on a coat hanger by the door.
We claim a table by the large windows, which offer a panoramic view of the mountains. The low lighting in the restaurant allows the moonlit expanse to be properly appreciated. While Ivy’s caught up in the sights, I watch the last wisps of snow clinging to her skin evaporate.
“Amazing,” she mutters.
I stare at her. I’ve been here many times, but her awe makes it feel like the first time—like I’m seeing it with new eyes.
That’s the way it’s been since we met. Everything looks different. Better.
A waiter offers us our menus and a complimentary bottle of wine to start the evening.
“I can see why you came back here,” Ivy says. “Pine Peaks has a special allure. Like it’s untouched by the rest of the world.”
My gaze is fixed on her . I’m certainly grateful I came here so I could meet her. The mouthy, sassy woman that has somehow worked her way into my head and refused to get out.
“I’ve been everywhere. At least,” I shrug, “everywhere my service in the military took me. Nowhere seems half as peaceful as here does. I don’t know why.”
She blinks languidly, taking me in. What does she see? “Sure it’s not because your mom is close by?”
I chuckle. “Yeah. No.”
“Not a mama’s boy?”
“I’m offended that you think that.”
“I’m offended that you don’t want to own up to what you are.”
“If I’m a mama’s boy, then the phrase loses all meaning. I’m not the most affectionate or doting.”
“I know.”
Something about the way she says it makes my ears click. “What do you mean you know?”
She shrugs and picks up her glass by the stem, twirling the amber liquid. “It means what it means.”
Suddenly, I have the urge to prove I’m not that. “I can be very sweet.”
She giggles. “Don’t say sweet again. Doesn’t suit your voice or your face.”
“Ouch.”
“You should see yourself. All hard lines, no smiles.” She puffs her chest and places her hands on her hips, then in a deeper voice, she says, “I’m sweet.” She sinks back to her usual position. “Bleh. No.”
A smile dances on my lips. “I’ll change your mind.”
“I’d like to see you try.” She smirks.
“I promise.”
“Yeah, no. I believe you’ll try. I’m only certain I’ll be laughing as you do.”
I pick up my menu, plotting my game plan. What do sweet people do?
“Ever had the creamy wild mushroom soup?” She tilts her head to the side as she reads her menu.
“Yes. It’s delicious. You should have that along with the grilled trout with herbs and a warm apple strudel with vanilla sauce.”
She balks, dropping her menu. “Did you just choose my dinner for me?”
“It’s a good selection.”
“It’s being bossy, Brody. Sweet people don’t do that.”
“This sweet person does.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She glares at me. There’s a spark underneath the apparent anger. She’s asking me to dare her. To do it.
I wave over to the waiter and list her order and mine. The whole time, Ivy glares at me.
After the waiter leaves, I turn back to her, flashing a smile. “How’s that for sweet?”
“You, Brody Hawke, are easily the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.” Yet, there’s no sting behind the words. If I’m not reading too much into it, I can almost hear a playful note in her voice. Like she enjoys me annoying her.
Same .
“Yeah, well. That’s not changing anytime soon. Get used to it.”
“I don’t need to.” She smirks. “Once the case is wrapped up, I’m gone.”
She meant it as a joke, but silence falls between us, and the reality of her words hangs heavy in the air.
What am I doing getting attached to her when she’ll certainly leave? What is she doing looking at me like I have an alternative to the inevitable?
“As long as you are here, you’re going to be treated to it,” I tack on after a while.
I won’t let the date sink to future outcomes we can’t control. We can have this moment and live in it.
“More like maltreated .” She turns sideways and slaps her hands on the table. “Oh, look, the starter’s here. I don’t have to talk to Mr. Not Sweet But Pretends To Be.”
I wince. “Never name anything again.”
“I’d get a job in the gravestone committee just so I can name yours.” An evil smile glints in her eyes.
“I’ll buy the entire cemetery and make sure you’re laid next to the dumpster with no headstone.”
The waiter pauses and glances between us, a frown lining his forehead. Ivy’s face reddens with barely held-back laughter.
“If anything happens to me,” I tell him seriously, “find this woman.”
She gasps. “Brody!”
“Her name is Doesn’t Know How To Name A Thing. Surname Pain In The Ass.”
While Ivy sputters, looking for a comeback, the waiter shakes his head and lays out our starter. Then he bows and leaves.
“I have a good one!” she nearly yells.
“He’s gone, Ivy.” I glance at the retreating waiter. “Save it for never.”
She eyes me and snatches up her spoon. “I don’t like you.”
“Just the things I do to you, then?” I didn’t think before saying the words, but now they are out there.
Ivy’s eyes latch onto mine for a heated second. “Ew. No.”
I chuckle and wait for her to take the first bite of her dinner. The sight of her slipping the spoon past her blood-red lips does insane things to my head.
“Hmm.” She closes her eyes, moaning her appreciation.
I’m enraptured, unable to look away as her mouth works and throat bobs.
She blinks open, and a smile curves her lips.
“Good?” My voice grates.
If she notices it, she gives no indication. She nods. “Very.” Another spoonful follows quickly. “Wow. So good.” Then her eyes drop to my plate, and she licks her lips. “How’s your beef stew?”
Ravenous Ivy brings a smile to my face. “Try it.” I push the bowl toward her.
She leans forward but can’t get her spoon in the bowl without rising and bending over awkwardly. I bring the bowl back to myself and scoop a spoonful. My longer wingspan makes it nothing for me to stretch forward until the spoon hovers close to her lips.
Her eyes meet mine, and she parts her lips. I didn’t account for how sensual the whole affair would become. Her tongue darts out, lips closing around the spoon. The soft vibration of her appreciative moan slides through the spoon and travels up my arm.
I withdraw my hand as quickly as I can after she lets go. If not, I’d be following through with the imagery in my head. Dipping my thumb into her mouth and asking her to lick it giving me a preview of what she could do to my cock.
“Good?” I ask again.
She licks her bottom lip, and I cuss under my breath. “The best.”
Does she know what she’s doing to me? If anyone could see what I’m sporting beneath the thick tablecloth, I’d be arrested for indecent exposure.
And she doesn’t back down. Every motion she makes is laced with sexual undertones. I can’t even taste my dinner, too occupied with the need to taste her.
“You’ve gone awfully quiet.” She eyes me over a half-eaten apple strudel. “Cat got your tongue?”
The spark in her eyes confirms my suspicion. She was being overly sexual to work me up. Maybe she didn’t like me choosing her dinner and she wanted payback. Or perhaps she simply enjoys toying with me.
Well, I do, too.
“Not yet.” I wink. “But I’m hoping.”
She grabs my meaning quickly, and her face flames. “We’re in the open, Brody.” She looks around. “Not cool.”
“And you’ve been cool this entire night?” I frown. “I want to see the not cool version then.”
Her eyelids turn heavy, and she tips her chin up. She looks like she does when I have her beneath me.
“What are you doing, Ivy?” I choke out.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” She sweeps her hair from her face, exposing her cheek and creamy neck. Then she leans over across the table. The already low-cut neckline of her dress drops even lower.
A rumble leaves my throat. It’s both a warning and a plea.
Ivy’s not done yet. Not nearly. She takes a ladyfinger and dips it in my chocolate fondue. She holds it over her tongue, letting the chocolate drizzle. Like cum . Then she pops the biscuit in her mouth and chews slowly.
She drops back in her seat, laughing. “How was that? Come on. You have got to give me my flowers. I was all sexy and sultry.”
I force a smile. “Yeah, you were.”
While she amuses herself, I’m sporting a hard-on that won’t go away.
Fuck me .