Chapter 18 #2
“Like with you going to your cousin and ex’s wedding for your mom’s sake. I know you say it’s what you do for people you love. I just hope you don’t forget to give yourself some of those peachy qualities that I like so much.”
The frenzied rise of my pulse drowns out the bar’s soundtrack of laughter, rock music, and the thwack of axes. Lars’s words about my brother’s hope for someone who will either help me keep a little bit of myself for me, or help replenish me, sing inside me.
“You have a big heart. If I didn’t have years of stories from my grandparents, the last few days of getting to know you have shown me that.
Who else would give a man who insulted her a second chance, after all?
” he says, humor sparking in his features.
“I may be overstepping, but like you said, sometimes we do things for the people we care…uh, like. And I like you, Peach.”
A gentle current zips between us. The charge ripples through my entire body, sparking every cell awake with want.
A want I shouldn’t have, but at this moment, it’s the only thing I can think of.
To throw caution to the wind, closing the inches between us and sealing my lips against his.
To just fall into this moment with no thought of tomorrow.
A tomorrow that may leave him hurt and left behind.
That thought dims the electric pulse urging me closer to Davis.
How many people have already used and discarded him because of their wants?
Lars may tut that I’m just trying to guard my heart, but it’s also about Davis.
Right now, there’s no guarantee for us, and I don’t want to string him along.
“It’s not overstepping, you’re being a good friend,” I murmur, releasing his hand.
His mouth lifts into a wry smile. “A good friend.”
“Speaking of friends, I’m keeping you from yours.” I lean against the chair’s hard back, its sturdiness bolstering my resolve to stay in place, to keep distance between us. Clearly, I can’t be trusted to make good decisions around this man.
“Just some of the department heads from No Boundaries. Jackson wrangled us into a happy hour.” He tips his head toward the table where Jackson sits, Lars beside him, his tree-trunk-sized arm wrapped around my brother’s shoulders.
“Of course, he did.” I shake my head.
It’s no surprise this run-in is Jackson-orchestrated.
Even if my younger brother would never make a move on Lars without my literal thumbs up, he pines with the best of them.
No doubt the green-eyed monster took control of his good senses, leading him to come spy on our date under the guise of a happy hour.
“You should get back to them. You’re the boss and all that.” I motion to him.
“Why don’t you come with me?”
“I… I shouldn’t.” Hesitation thickens in my throat causing the words to come out strangled. “I should head home. I’ve been out a lot this week and need to spend some time with Wentworth.”
“Okay.” He stands up. “Let’s go.”
“Excuse me?” I cough out.
“I hate happy hours. Making small talk with people I just spent nine hours with, at a loud bar that doesn’t even serve french fries, is my idea of a nightmare.”
“Why did you come then?”
“Jackson asked.”
“You don’t have to do something just because someone asks.”
“Okay, Lady Cecily,” he teases.
“Ha…ha,” I mock laugh with an exaggerated eye roll. “It’s totally different. Jackson won’t be hurt if you don’t come out with him. Why come?”
“I like your brother. He knows I hate happy hours, so when he asks me to join, I know it’s something important to him.”
“Like agreeing to go on a happy hour date with his sister?” It comes out more sarcastic than I intend.
“Yes.” He clicks his tongue. “Full disclosure… I’d seen pictures of you on your brother’s social media, so it was easy to say yes.”
Oh. It’s so fucking cliché, but heat flushes my cheeks, nonetheless. It’s not that I don’t know that Davis is attracted to me, but the unexpected sense of validation makes me question my feminist ethics.
“You’d be doing your friend a solid by letting me escape this ritualistic torture masquerading as social bonding.” Smirking, he looks toward Jackson. “Plus, I’m sure your brother or his friend wouldn’t let you go home by yourself.”
Ugh. Stupid overprotective brother and his werewolf. My brow dips with frustration. While whatever is happening with Jackson and Lars complicates things, I don’t want to preempt their time together. It may be short enough as it is.
“By letting me take you home, you’d be helping out me and your brother. You live for that stuff,” he says, a soft chuckle curls his lips.
Thwarted by my peachiness. Laughing, I stand up. “You can take me home.”
Davis parks his car in front of the house, right behind my vehicle.
I peer between the house and him. Outside of Hope’s SUV and my car in the driveway, and a light on downstairs, it’s quiet.
Just like the last time he brought me home.
A zing travels along my nerves with the memory of him pressing me against the back gate.
“Do you need to walk Wentworth?” he asks.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Umm…” Tongue clicking, he clutches and unclutches his hands around the steering wheel. “Maybe I could walk with you. Through the neighborhood or there’s a park a few blocks away that your brother has mentioned. It has a nice dog run and play area.”
“I…”
“Or Gemma’s. They have that outdoor patio and serve puppy-friendly ice cream,” he forges ahead, taking advantage of my hesitation.
This isn’t a good idea. None of this. Not letting him drive me home. Definitely not going out for ice cream with him and my dog. The last time we had ice cream together it ended with me pinned up against the back gate.
“They do have the pumpkin pup bowl, which is Wentworth’s favorite.” I smile.
Bad Georgia! As much as I lie to myself that friends do things like this, the feelings surging inside me about Davis aren’t merely friendly. Not at all. I like him. I really like him.
With every new interaction, our initial meeting fades away, offering a clear picture of who he is. It’s addicting. Like a good book… with each page, I want to just keep reading.
Davis and I stroll down the sidewalk. The little cleared throat noise he makes once we reach the gate signals that the memory of our last time here is, no doubt, playing inside him.
“Oh,” Hope gasps as we open the gate. Face pinched and hand on her belly, she stands on the other side.
“Hope, is everything okay?” I blink, taking in the pained expression tightening her features.
“I think I’m in labor,” she grits out, wincing.
“What!” I rush to her side. “It’s too early. You’re only seven and a half months along.”
“Tell your overachieving niece that.” She envelops my hand in a vise-like grip. “I thought it was just Braxton Hicks, but it’s been the last hour… And there’s been some vaginal discharge that I’m not sure isn’t my water breaking.”
“You don’t know?” My question is high-pitched.
“No, Georgia, I don’t know. I’ve never had a baby before, remember? Books and online videos can only tell you so much.” Her tone is sweetly sarcastic.
“Should we call someone? Your doctor? Rem?” Davis asks, coming to Hope’s other side.
“Thanks, Davis, but I’ve already made calls. Rem is in San Diego for work. He’s on his way. My doctor will meet me at the hospital.” Eyes wide, she looks between Davis and me. “Oh god, did I mention vaginal discharge in front of Davis?”
Shrugging his shoulders, he offers a lopsided grin. “With two moms, you’d be surprised how used to the mention of lady business I am.”
“Lady business?” I snort.
“Oh, he’s sweet.” She makes a motion with her free hand, her keys jangling.
“Hope, were you about to drive yourself to the hospital?” I gape. “Why didn’t you call?”
“You were on that da… out with Lars. I didn’t want to bug you,” she says, the words coming out like a question.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Even in the middle of possible labor, my bestie is still shipping me and Davis.
“We should get you to the hospital.” Patting her hand, I start to guide her through the gate.
“I’ll take you,” Davis says, following.
“No, it’s?—”
He shakes his head. “This way, you can sit with her in the backseat and hold her hand. You focus on Hope, and I’ll focus on you…uh…getting you there safe.”
“I like his plan,” Hope breathes, as her hand tightens harshly around mine and she bends at the waist.
“Okay.” I nod. “You’re the boss.”
“If only your niece knew that and wasn’t deciding to come early. Let’s go to the hospital and Davis, I’ll try not to have this baby in your backseat—” her face creases “—Although, she was conceived in one.”