Chapter Eight
Tom
While I wish she would open up to me about whatever it is that’s on her mind, she said another day. And that means she wants to do this again; she likes to be around me. And that right there? That makes me a happy man.
“I’d love some dessert.”
She grabs the boxes and plates I set on the counter earlier and sits back down in front of me.
Her red hair looks like fire in the glow of the candlelight; she smiles, and her green eyes gleam.
She’s beautiful, breathtaking. She’s guarded, and I wish she could see herself the way I see her.
She’s a shining star that’s been hidden too long, suppressed by her ex-husband.
She serves a slice of cake, then opens the second box that’s filled with small desserts from mini cookies to pastries.
“Maribeth’s masterpiece.” She hands me the small plate and slides the other in front of her.
“Ladies first.” I nod my head toward her.
She laughs lightly. “I won’t make you wait another second.” She picks up her fork and takes a bite. Her eyes close, and she lets out a hum. “Mmmm. So good. Your turn! You really haven’t had this one?”
I take a bite of the cake myself, and the sweetness of the caramel is the perfect balance with the richness of the coffee.
“Did Maribeth tell you how she came up with this recipe?”
“She just mentioned she made it in-house. I told her I could marry it.” She lets out a laugh. “I know it’s silly, but it’s just that good.”
“I picked up a summer job before my senior year of high school. Maribeth always had openings for the local kids at the bakery. That summer, she wanted to add some new flavors to their menu. I had become obsessed with coffee, and I liked it extra sweet, with caramel. So together we made the Caramel Latte Lace Cake.”
Her eyes open wide. “You made this?”
“Well, just helped with the idea…and the cake tasting, which was probably the best part. Especially for a teenage boy.”
“Wow, so you made dinner and dessert tonight. I’m impressed. I didn’t know you were a jack-of-all-trades, Firefighter.”
“I’ve got tricks up these sleeves,” I smirk and take another bite.
“You’ve got a little…” She points to the right side of her mouth.
“Oh.” I grab my napkin and wipe my mouth. “Better?”
She laughs, a sweet melody filling the room. “The other side. Here, let me…”
She leans across the table, grabs my napkin, and wipes at the opposite side. Our eyes meet, just inches from one another.
“Thank you,” I say, my eyes not leaving hers.
The amount of resistance I’m exerting to stay in my seat is monumental.
With every second that passes and she’s staying this close, I’m more and more tempted to lean in and close the distance between us.
The magnetic pull between us is undeniable, and I think she feels it too.
In fact, the question in her eyes shows me she does.
But I won’t make the first move. She has to open up to me on her own terms.
Barely audible, she whispers, “You’re welcome.”
The house lights flicker, then come back on. Caroline lets out a nervous chuckle before sitting back in her chair.
“Guess the storm is over.”
“Must be. Would you like a coffee? I planned on making it before we were plunged into darkness.”
“Actually, I…” she starts, then pauses.
A knot tightens in my gut. Stupid tension. It was too much, and now she’s going to leave.
“That would be perfect.”
Relief washes over me like a tidal wave. “Perfect.” I breathe out.
As I busy myself with the coffee machine, I steal glances at her. She’s lost in thought, nibbling on her lower lip, a habit I’ve noticed she does when she’s thinking. I wish I could ease her worries, reassure her that if we become more, she’s my all.
I start the coffeemaker and start to clear the table. Caroline jumps up and insists on helping. So, we wash the dishes together, and I put the potpie away in the fridge. When the coffee is finished, I prepare two mugs.
“I don’t have any fancy syrups, but I do have cream and sugar.”
“A little bit of both, please.” She smiles at me and looks toward the back door. “Could we sit on the patio?”
“As long as you don’t judge me by my patio furniture. I haven’t replaced it yet.”
“No promises.” She smirks.
“Grab that blanket, and I’ll bring the coffee.”
I follow her out, and after she sits in the love seat and spreads out the blanket, I hand her a steaming mug.
Our fingers brush as she takes it from me, and I set my cup on the table.
I sit down next to her, which is the closest we’ve been all night.
She’s got some curves, and I’m a broad guy, both crammed onto an old couch not made for keeping our personal bubbles separate.
“Tom?”
I turn my head to look at her, our faces even closer than when she wiped frosting off my mouth.
“Yes, Caroline?” I prompt, my heart pounding in my chest. There’s only so much restraint one man can show.
“I…” She looks down at her mug, then back at me. Her eyes shimmer under the twinkling lights. “Thank you. For tonight, I mean. It’s been a while since I did something like this.”
“Like what?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
“You know,” she waves her hand between us, “this. Dinner at someone’s house. Just…laughing and talking. I really enjoyed this…with you.”
“I enjoy our time together, too. More than you can imagine.”
My hand reaches out of its own accord, brushing a stray hair from in front of her eye. A flicker of uncertainty appears in her eyes. She pulls back from me, then bites her bottom lip. Too soon, Rivera.
She leans toward me again, her green eyes wide. Her eyes drift down toward my lips, making my heart pound even harder.
She closes the distance between us, pressing her lips against mine in a soft, hesitant kiss. It’s as if she’s testing the waters, unsure of my reaction. Surprise roots me for just a slight moment before I kiss her back. I thread my fingers through her hair, pulling her closer to me.
Her lips taste like coffee and sweet frosting, a completely intoxicating combination. The kind of kiss that sets every nerve ending aflame, sends shock waves racing through my entire body, and heat coursing through me.
Caroline, my bright red flame, is kissing me.