Chapter 16 Drew #2
“Don’t tell me you’re not a fan of surprises.” The playful tone in his voice pulls the smallest smile out of me. I do like surprises. Good ones anyway.
I tilt against the headrest to watch him as he drives. I don’t often get to simply watch him without having to combat his authoritative and intense stare in return.
He’s got a strong nose and jaw, a shapely and pouty mouth, the subtle stubble along his jaw and chin, and the feathering of gray along his temples.
I can’t see much of him otherwise, but he’s got a beautiful face, distinguished yet rugged.
Adam was made for business, to be a leader, and it shows. But was he made for romance?
I suppose we would see. He’s given me hints at it.
The slow but dominant way he’s taken charge but hasn’t pushed me past where I’m comfortable.
Mostly.
When I pull back, he wants to know why. And that’s more important than I ever thought possible.
It’s not what I’m used to.
I’ve always taken care of and given myself over to my partners—offered too much of myself for minimal returns.
He glances at me as we exit the town limits, and I’m even more curious about what he has planned.
Most of what surrounds Pinebrook is forest.
A lake sits on one side, a small one fed by a small river, and I’m pretty certain we’re headed to a private spot that I never would have pinned as one of Adam’s favorites.
When we park, I can barely see the edge of a hill in the growing darkness through the back window, a lookout in the woods that I’ve never been to before.
I wait as Adam exits the SUV and opens the back hatch. Cold breaches the warmth we’ve built along the drive.
Again, I find myself watching him through the gap in the seats. He spreads out a blanket and props a cooler and heat bag at the end before his gaze lifts to mine.
The confidence and amusement tugs at me.
I climb out of my seat and join him.
Adam has a blanket ready for me, wrapping it around my shoulders before helping me up in the back of his vehicle.
He lingers above me, his big hand cupping my cheek, sliding his fingers behind my ear and brushing my jaw with his thumb.
“So this is your favorite place?”
“Yes.” Such a simple answer. Is he trying to get me to pry?
“Why?” Because I find myself actually wanting to know what makes him tick.
“It’s quiet here. No board meetings, no phones, no noise. Just…room to breathe.” He’s searching me for something again, and the heat of him is delicious with the cold swirling around us.
I want to lean into him, but our date has just started. It’s too early to cuddle in close and encourage the things I’ve been daydreaming about since he denied me.
But I don’t take the opening, remembering what he taught me about leaning in, touching him…
“And then there’s me, ruining your peace.”
A small, sly grin greets me. “Maybe you’re the reason it’s peaceful.”
I snort and shake my head, embarrassment heating my face. Taking his hand in mine, I examine his large, blunt fingers and trace the lines of his palm. “You don’t strike me as the type to picnic in the woods.”
“That’s because you only see me when I’m working.”
“Oh, so that’s what you call what I’ve seen? Working.”
“Of a sort.”
“Working me you mean.”
His laugh is soft and intimate, then he leans his mouth to my ear. “You’ll know when I’m working you, princess.”
I turn toward him, our noses brushing and sending a sharp need through me. Biting my lip keeps me from leaning in.
Adam tucks the blanket tighter around me and retreats, propping himself next to me.
He takes up so much space, even with how big the back of his car is.
We look out into the sky and the way the river shimmers below us, frosted over and framed by bright white snow under the moon.
“So, what made this your favorite spot?”
“My grandfather brought me here when I was a kid. He taught me that you can tell a lot about a person by how they handle the quiet.”
Another reminder of my best friend growing up. My neighbor. Gabe. Everything always seems to come back to him in some way.
After a beat, he turns to peer at me. “You handle it well.”
“I’m not afraid of quiet.”
“No. Just what it lets you think about.”
My pulse hiccups, and I turn to look at what he brought with him to break the tension building in my chest. “You shouldn’t psychoanalyze your dates. I’m pretty sure that’s dating 101.”
“You’re not just a date.” His voice drops, leaving those words hanging between us before he’s moving, opening a bottle of champagne and pouring me some in a real glass flute.
I giggle as I take it, savoring the sweet bubbles as they fill my mouth. Then he tugs the warming bag closer and pulls out two hand pies. “Try this before it freezes.”
I take the warm tart, my fingers brushing his, and immediately take a bite. Like before with the burrito, I let out a low moan at the savory meat and perfect spice—thyme, onion, garlic—and expertly flaky crust that still holds its shape under the moisture and weight.
Adam chews through his own bite, smug pride filling his features.
“You make these?”
He shakes his head as he swallows. “No, I leave that to more talented people. I can grill a mean steak though. I’ll show you when the weather gets warmer.”
“Mmm. Presumptuous of you.” Thinking I’ll still be around. But I have to admit, if I am, I would very much like to have him show me. I like being around him.
His brow lifts. Can he read my thoughts? The things I’m leaving unsaid with my response.
I devour my meat pie, licking my fingers clean and ignoring how it keeps his attention on my mouth.
He’s holding back on me, proving his point.
Adam is not like the men I’ve dated before.
But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to hurt me.
“You want another one?”
My laugh is a bark. “Of course.”
I never lost my athletic appetite. Even if I haven’t gone running since I came home, it’s been a constant in my life for more than a decade. Devouring my second pie is greeted with his approval, completely at odds with how Nick responded to my food habits and his offhand comments about my figure.
Luckily, we weren’t together long enough or often enough for it to give me a complex.
Afterall, my clothes had gotten loose on me, not tighter.
But depression has that kind of effect on me.
I shake off the thoughts of the past. They’re not serving me at this moment, and I’d rather be present here with Adam.
He gestures to my empty glass, and I take the refill. It goes well with the meat pies, which surprises me.
What he pulls out next surprises me even more: a pint of ice cream—Blue Raspberry Cotton Candy. My favorite.
“How did you know?”
“I can’t reveal my sources.”
“Mmm hmm. You know this is going to make me cold.”
Still, he hands me a spoon and shifts, wrapping an arm around my waist and yanking me across the back to settle me between his thighs.
Once he has me nestled against him, he takes the pint back and tears off the top and hands it back.
“I won’t ever let you get cold.” The sincerity in his words sends a shiver through me just the same.
I take a few bites and relax into him, finally asking the question that’s been swimming around my thoughts since he told me he’s not attached to anyone.
It’s easier to broach the subject with him surrounding me this way, without his ability to pierce me with his all-knowing gaze.
“Adam.”
He hums in response.
“Why aren’t you married?”
“That’s easy. Because I’ve never met anyone who’s prompted that kind of response in me. The need to call her mine. The desire to be hers. Never seemed right without that feeling driving me.” His arms tighten around me, and I can’t help how my heart rate spikes at that admission.
At what that might mean for us.
We settle into companionable silence as I finish off my pint and soak in the feel of his body around mine.
The ride home is quick, faster than the way out, and when he walks me up to my door, I know my parents, my sister, Greyson and Gabe are all watching. Even if I can’t see them.
“You know they’re all watching,” I say.
“Of course they are.” Adam crowds me against the front door. “I’d better make this worth their trouble then.”
He leans in. His kiss isn’t demanding, but it’s one that claims the moment—measured, slow, with a hand braced on the doorframe beside my ear.
I’m ready to dissolve into a puddle at his absolute thoroughness.
I want to grab hold and yank him into me, take what we’re both really craving.
When he pulls back, nose brushing mine, his voice is low and rough. “Next time, I don’t plan to drop you off at home.”