Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
That kiss.
It had been unexpected, and by far, the best of her life. But it had also knocked her on her ass. She’d put so much of herself into it, that she had completely depleted the last of her energy stores.
Did she want to continue doing more?
Hell yes.
Could she summon the strength?
Nope.
It was like someone had hit a buzzer, telling her that time was up.
Her brain was shutting down, fogging in like a Scottish moor. A “chemo-wipe-out” was headed her way, fast.
Maybe she could hide it.
Damn.
Lace couldn’t help herself. She yawned.
Right in Vincent’s face.
He chuckled and held her a little tighter.
“Don’t tell me. Your about to have a big, after-treatment crash.”
“Uh, huh,” she mumbled, leaning her head down to nestle into the front of his shirt. “I don’t want to, but between that and the sugar, I’m wiped.”
“Then let’s get you home.”
That sounded good, but the problem was, Lace couldn’t seem to move. She did, however, manage to mumble her address.
In tune with her problem, Vincent took charge. “Hang on.”
She felt herself being lifted and cradled in strong arms.
A happy sigh escaped. She could barely keep her eyes open, but Lace could appreciate the romantic aspect of the moment.
It seemed like a few other people in the parking lot could too, because there were female sighs and giggles somewhere off to her left.
Eat your hearts out, Lace wanted to say. He’s mine.
But she couldn’t gloat aloud, because her lips were done. Depleted.
Huh. After all that phenomenal kissing, would she even need to talk in the future? Maybe her mouth would only be used for kissing from here on in.
Kissing Vince.
With that thought floating around in her head, a part of Lace that was still aware, felt Vincent buckling her into her seat in his truck.
She finally gave up the fight and succumbed to sleep, knowing that he’d be there when she woke up.
“Lace.”
A gentle voice tickled her ear.
“Mmmph,” she responded, batting her hands around ineffectually. Or at least she thought she did.
A chuckle penetrated her fog.
“I need a second of your time,” the communicator persisted.
“What?” she managed, although her lips felt glued together.
Lips…
She’d been having the most delicious dream where—
OMG. It hadn’t been a dream.
“Vince?” Lace forced out.
“Yeah, Lace. It’s me. I need your key.”
“My…?” Right. They must be at her house.
“Inside coat pocket,” she muttered, debating on whether to drift off again—which would be the easiest thing to do—or attempt opening her eyes and facing…
Yeah. Okay. Looking at Vince would be no hardship.
Lace pried her lids apart and brought the man of her dreams into focus.
“Mmm. You’re still cute,” she mumbled.
He laughed. “Thanks. I think. I’d take that as a compliment if you were actually coherent.”
“I’m cohessernt,” she sternly rebutted, then yawned. “Mebbe not.”
Her eyes closed again of their own volition, and she sighed. Happily, this time. “Going back to sleep now.”
“Uh, uh. Not before I get the key,” Vince stated, dragging her to the surface for one last moment.
She felt him rummaging around in the first of two big pockets inside her coat.
“E-reader, that side,” she informed him with her last few brain cells. “Other one.”
His fingers worked their way around, and, “Bingo,” he said triumphantly.
Lace forced herself to stay awake for one more, Prince-Charming-carry, and the next thing she knew, she was inside her home, her coat was off, and Vince was settling her on her couch, draping her with a blanket.
But there was something gnawing at her…
“No,” she complained, although at what, she wasn’t sure. Lace attempted to sit up when it hit her. “I need to show you around,” she slurred.
Why was that?
Had she…?
Right. She’d told him he could live here.
“We can do it another time, Lace,” he assured her gently. “Or, I can just have a quick look by myself.”
Her hand, which seemed to be the only functioning part of her body, again waved in compliance.
“Go ‘head,” she told him, and that was the last she knew.
When Lace next awoke, it was to a sun that was setting.
She caught and relished the pinks and oranges in the sky outside her living room windows.
A slight noise to her right had her turning her head.
Vince.
He sat there patiently as if he had all the time in the world.
“What are you still doing here?” Lace asked, sitting up while reaching to fix her…
Crap. Her scarf had definitely come off.
Vince smiled unconcernedly. “It seemed rude to just leave you, so I thought I’d stay and make sure you were okay, after which I would confirm that you eat real food before you go to bed.”
“Thanks,” Lace replied, feeling more awake by the minute. “But you didn’t have to do that. One big crash, and I’m normally good to go after that.”
She felt rested. Really rested. For the first time in a long while. Maybe her subconscious had known that Vince was watching over her, making sure she was breathing.
She threw the blanket off her legs, blinking when the scarf went with it, but…
Screw it. She wasn’t putting it back on. Vince had seen her without it before, and if he really did stick around, it wouldn’t be the last time.
Putting a smile on her face, she gave Vince an option. “How about this? I can come up with food for both of us, if you feel like staying,” she informed him. “Or you can be on your way.”
He looked undecided. “I don’t want you to cook when you’re feeling this tired,” he demurred.
“It’s not a problem,” Lace told him. “I often make food in the morning before I leave for chemo, knowing I won’t want to cook when I get home. Tonight, it’s a chicken and dumpling casserole with a salad on the side. You interested?”
“Sounds great,” he said. “I actually already called my Mom and told her I wouldn’t be home for supper. I was going to grab something on the way there, but now I’m throwing myself on your mercy.”
Lace chuckled. “There’s nothing to worry about. I won’t poison you. I’m actually a good cook. And an even better baker,” she teased as she headed for her kitchen.
Her kitchen…
Oh.
“Did you have a look around to see if my house will work for you?” she asked thoughtfully, then something occurred to her, and she groaned. “I didn’t, like, leave…dirty clothes on the floor or anything, did I?”
Dammit. She could almost picture yesterday’s panties and bra lying on the rug next to her bed. Lace wasn’t known to be messy. She liked things clean, but still, a little clutter never bothered her. Until now.
Vince grinned. “Yeah. You did.”
Lace bit back a moan. Clearly the man was enjoying himself as he continued.
“I put your, uh, fallout in your bathroom hamper.”
He was about to get cheeky. She just knew it.
“Purple is a good color for you.”
Lace scowled at him.
“Really,” he snickered.
She’d never be able to look at that lingerie set again without picturing his fingers on it.
His impish smile let her know she shouldn’t poke the subject any further unless she wanted more shit, so she went back to her original question, hoping he’d forget the underwear.
Fat chance.
“So. Do you have any thoughts on the layout here? The house? The yard?” she asked, this time making it through her kitchen door.
She opened the fridge and took out the meal she would heat up.
Vince followed her in.
“I do have a question.” He was still grinning.
If this was about her undergarments, she was going to lose it.
“Go ahead,” she answered cautiously.
“What’s the sledgehammer for?” he inquired with an arched brow. “I saw it by the front door, and I’m thinking if it’s for protection, it’s a bit heavy to be of much help. A baseball bat would be a much better choice.”
Any remaining embarrassment over her lingerie fled.
She chuckled. “That was actually my grandfather’s sledgehammer,” she apprised. “As you may or may not know about antique houses, they lean a little.” Lace found herself grinning. “So, it’s actually been used for…decades probably, as a door-stop.”
Vince looked suitably amused.
“When I was little,” Lace continued, “I was in charge of dragging it out over to the door on grocery day, and propping the thing open with it. Then after all the bags had been brought in, I’d put it back in the closet.
It always seemed so heavy, but now…” Her eyes filled with unshed tears.
“…I keep it out and handy, to remind me of Gram and PeePaw.”
“Peepaw,” Vince repeated. “I like it. You miss them,” he then stated.
“Every day,” she admitted. “It hasn’t been easy being here alone, without them, especially with what I’m going through.”
So what if she gave herself a little pity-party. She deserved one every now and then.
“Well, you’re not alone any longer,” Vince responded strongly. “I’m here now, and this whole place is actually perfect for what we have in mind.”
He went back to pragmatics, for which Lace was thankful.
Her tears dried up.
“Just like you said,” he went on. “Three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a really big, private yard, and the deck is magnificent. There’s only one problem.”
“What’s that?” she asked curiously, turning on the oven to put the casserole inside.
“You don’t have a grill.” He sounded serious. “Maybe it’s a guy thing, but…” he trailed off.
Lace turned then, and saw his smirk.
“Smartass,” she responded, but right now she really appreciated his humor. Thinking of her grandparents always made her melancholy.
“We had a grill out there for years, but last summer it finally disintegrated into a pile of rust. I got rid of it, and never found time to get a new one.”
“Well, we need one,” he wheedled, his voice growing excited. “Maybe that and a smoker. There’s even room for a pizza oven. I—"
Lace giggled, interrupting him. “Hey. Does this mean you’ve decided to move in?”