Chapter 16
brOOKE
Being with Cade all week was like being on the perfect extended date ever.
Not a date date, of course. Cade cooked delicious meals that we enjoyed together.
He was surprisingly skilled in the kitchen.
We threw a ball outside for Maple until she got bored and took off to sniff all the new smells of the property.
While I was being spoiled by Cade’s culinary skills, Maple was clearly enjoying taking full advantage of the Adlers’ massive yard.
Watching him cook dinner, I once again sat on a stool at the island.
I couldn’t help but admire his competence in the kitchen, the smooth way he chopped veggies and the mesmerizing way he sautéed, grilled, and stirred.
The food wasn’t the only thing heating up, and I crossed my legs under the island to try to relieve the ache I was feeling.
When the food was simmering, he turned and leaned back against the counter, his long sleeves pushed up to his elbows. My gaze lingered for a moment on the corded muscles on his forearms. Does he know how good he looks like this? I mused. Women would pay good money for this view.
Distracting myself from forearm thoughts, I asked, “Where did you find all of these recipes? I didn’t know you were into cooking.”
“We take turns cooking for everyone at the firehouse,” he explained. “And I found this great site, for anti-inflammatory recipes. I looked it up right after you told me about the diagnosis. I’ve been trying to perfect a few.”
He spoke plainly, like he hadn’t once again dropped an emotional bombshell in my lap.
“You learned how to make these—for me? Why?”
He gave me a grin and continued stirring. “Making you happy makes me happy.”
He had a way of saying these earth-shattering revelations with casual simplicity. It was hard not to swoon on the spot.
After dinner, we fell into a steady rhythm of playing cards by the fire or curling up on the couch to watch a movie.
I watched a few action flicks with Cade, but most of the time he defaulted to my choice of rom-com.
He really let himself get into them, too.
No matter the activity, Cade was always so .
. . present. It was one of my favorite things about him.
One night while we were watching Sandra Bullock in The Proposal, he caught my eye.
“I’d do that for you, you know.”
“What, pretend to be married for a green card?” I laughed.
“Yeah, why not?”
“Better question is, why would you?” I looked at him incredulously.
“You’re my best friend,” he said simply, shrugging his shoulders.
And suddenly, that’s where we were again. Best friends.
Only suddenly, I wanted us to be a whole lot more.
The next day, Cade caught me staring at the photo collages on his parents’ walls.
“I want to do something nice for your parents,” I told him. “To thank them for letting us stay here.”
“You know they don’t expect it.”
“I know, but—I’d still like to.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked.
“Well, it’ll be December next week, and I noticed the signs in town for the Christmas tree farm.”
He beamed at me. “You want to go pick out a Christmas tree for my parents?”
I bit my lip to hide the full breadth of my smile.
“Yeah, I really do.”
We bundled in the warmest clothes we’d brought, and I slipped on my most practical LL Bean duck boots.
We drove Cade’s dad’s pickup truck outside of town to the Williams’s family farm.
A light snowfall began as we approached the farm, and I smiled at Cade—it felt like serendipity, the skies aligning with our festive plans.
As we drove up, I saw Teddy Williams, a guy who had been a grade behind us at Birch Hollow High. I gave him a wave and he smiled back shyly under his mop of blond hair. Mrs. Williams came down her front steps as we stepped out of the car, donning a pair of winter gloves.
“Welcome!” she declared enthusiastically. “Here for a tree?”
When we nodded, she continued her prepared spiel.
“My husband will be out in just a minute. We offer a hayride out to see the selection. Would you two like some hot cocoa to keep you warm on the ride?”
“That would be wonderful,” I replied, already feeling warmed by her kindness.
We carried the warm drinks into the bed of a trailer behind Mr. Williams’s truck.
The bed was filled with hay bales to sit on.
The hay was itchy, even through my many layers of clothing, but I tried my best to ignore the sensation and stay present in the moment.
I admired the flakes of snow falling on my deep red winter coat.
Cade smiled at me from across the bed of the trailer, our knees facing each other.
He looked at home in the woods in his well-worn jeans and practical black Patagonia jacket.
After a short ride Mr. Williams stopped the truck. Cade hopped out and reached back to help me down. I felt tingles across my waist where Cade’s hands had spanned while he helped me land safely on the now-slick ground.
We began our hunt for the perfect tree for the Adlers’ living room.
“That one?” He pointed to a large tree to our left.
“That’s a Fraser fir,” Mr. Williams explained. “Quite popular for the full, fluffed-up look, plus an excellent life span. Often have that bluish green color. The scent of the Balsams is usually more popular, though.”
I smiled, thinking of Cade’s unique woodsy scent. “Definitely want a Balsam,” I said as I snaked my hand through his elbow and squeezed.
We focused on the rich green trees with the deep, Christmassy scent.
“Over here!” I shouted to Cade, when I found the perfect tree—perfect height, perfect fullness, rich green color, and that intoxicating smell.
I jumped up and down in excitement at my find as Cade approached behind me. Just as he reached my back, my duck boots slipped on the wet grass. My balance faltered, and I began to fall, when suddenly firm hands once again found my waist.
“Slow down, Champ,” he whispered from behind me, sending me into a giggling fit.
“Champ? Really?” I wheezed, doubled over in laughter. Of all the pet names . . . I was definitely not expecting “champ.”
“Well you are a champion varsity volleyball player,” he insisted.
“Was,” I corrected, sobering.
“You’ll always be a champ in my book,” Cade said affectionately. I swear I felt his lips brush my hair.
Realizing his hands were still firmly clamped around my waist, I slid out of his grasp. “Mr. Williams!” I called. “We’ll take this one.”
Keeping my emotional—and physical—distance from Cade got harder and harder as the week progressed. We’d hug, or he’d put his arm around me, and he’d even hold my hand if I initiated it. He gave me gentle acts of friendly affection, but he never took it too far.
Cade was respecting my boundaries, boundaries that I was ready to take a bulldozer to.
On our last night, I gave him a mischievous wink as I held my movie choice behind my back.
I started it up, and it was an adaptation of Jane Austen’s Emma.
Cade let out a faux groan but quickly settled into watching Gwyneth Paltrow and her fake British accent on screen.
I’d seen it several times, so I found myself watching Cade instead of the movie.
I snuck glance after glance at him, trying to gauge his mood.
Could I make a move? Would he want me to? Did he even see me like that?
He caught me staring.
“Man, this girl is into everyone’s business. I swear, I feel like I’ve seen this movie before . . . or maybe a different version. Something is familiar, anyway. We never watched this?” he questioned.
I chuckled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret—it’s the same plot as the movie Clueless. Ya know, Alicia Silverstone, Paul Rudd.”
Recognition flashed across his face. “Ahhh, that’s what it is. Man, they really get you with that. Sneaky.”
“Yep. And 10 Things I Hate About You is based on a Shakespeare play.”
“Get out.”
“Hundred percent real. Look it up.”
He tapped on his phone, verifying my information.
“Well I’ll be. Damn, you’re quite a movie buff, B.”
I loved when he called me that. I leaned my body against him and brushed a quick kiss on his cheek.
“What was that for?” He looked genuinely surprised as I pulled back to my spot on the couch.
“This whole week. You’ve been amazing. Cooking for me, helping me with Maple, showing me Birch Hollow again . . .”
He swallowed. “It’s been my pleasure. Really, B. I needed this just as much as you.”
His eyes fell to my lips.
He wants to kiss me, I realized. I leaned in towards him again, this time focusing on his lips rather than his cheek.
His eyes darted like a wild deer.
After a moment’s hesitation, though, his lips were on mine. The taste of him lit me up inside like a long-dead spark coming back to life. My hands frantically roamed across his shirt, feeling the planes of muscle underneath.
“Oh my god . . .” I whispered.
“What?” he pulled back slightly, frowning in the dim light.
“You’re—so hot.” I could barely catch my breath, my words coming out in little puffs. Running my hands across all the firm muscle was making my insides flip. Sometime in the last few years, Cade had developed an eight-pack.
“Thanks?” he chuckled, but I could tell he was secretly proud. I kissed him harder.
I opened my mouth for him, and his tongue dove in. We’d kissed before, senior year, but it was nothing like this. Back then it was hesitant, searching, testing. This was devouring.
I couldn’t get close enough, and suddenly I was straddling one of his thighs with both of mine.
“Cade,” I whimpered.
I knew he could hear how much the words were laced with desire.
I rubbed my body up and down his thigh, enjoying the newfound friction between my thin yoga pants and his jeans.
His mouth was on my neck, sucking, nipping.
My head was thrown back to give him better access.
God, I was on fire, from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
Never had anything felt like this before. Is this how it was supposed to feel?
His hands found my thighs, and he rubbed along the outside of them. I thought he might pick me up, carry me to another room. I wanted him to. I wanted to be totally at his mercy.
Instead, he removed his hands and brought them up to cup my face. My thighs felt cold and bare where his warm hands had been.
“We have to stop, B,” he whispered against my face.
He leaned his forehead against mine.
My heart fell like a rock to the bottom of the lake. The rejection stung, shocking me back to my senses. I hurriedly extracted myself from his grip and went to my room. I could feel the embarrassment staining my cheeks.
“B—” he called after me.
I shut the door, and slid down in front of it, crumpling to the floor.
Okay, so maybe I had overreacted the night before. I was a hormonal mess, and this trip had opened up all kinds of confusing feelings inside me.
The movie nights, the diner, the walks down Main Street—Cade had reminded me so much of home.
I’d thought he wanted me, too.
But then again—Cade had mentioned the word “friends” repeatedly all week.
Maybe after all this time, that was all he saw us being? Either way, it was a complete gut punch.
The niggling voice in my head reminded me that he’d pulled away once he touched my thighs.
My lower half had always been curvier than up top.
And I knew I was softer, even more curvy than I was high school.
Typically I wasn’t self-conscious around Cade, but suddenly I wondered if my softened form didn’t meet his sculpted Greek-god standards.
I mean, the man had an eight-pack, for Pete’s sake.
And weren’t people always saying how beautiful women were in California? Images flooded my brain of tanned blonde women with pouty lip filler wearing skimpy, barely-there bikinis. No way could I compete with that.
I steeled my resolve. In the light of day, I decided Cade’s approach was right. We were better as friends.
I got moving in the early morning light. I packed up my bags, washed the sheets, and made the Adlers’ bed. I’d have to remember to send them a thank-you card for letting me stay here. I hoped they would enjoy the tree we’d picked.
As I carried my bags out into the living room, I met Cade’s gaze, plastering on what I hoped was a convincing smile.
He, on the other hand, looked tortured.
“All packed up?” He indicated my bags.
“Yep,” I said cheerily. “This has been a great getaway for me, Cade. I really do appreciate it.”
I walked to the car and put my bags inside. He followed me out, his bag slung over shoulder.
“Ready to get back to life in Boston, though,” I told him. “Do you need me to drive?”
“Uh, no—I got it.” His face still had a mask of uncertainty. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then snapped it shut again.
I went back inside and leashed up Maple. I leaned down and whispered in her ear as I did. “Time to hit the road, Maple Girl. Back to reality.”