31. Rose
rose
Driving away from the Bridger cabin, I experience what I imagine little kids go through when they leave Disneyland. Barely contained weeping and an urge to immediately start begging to go again.
I learned a thing or two from Jovie and lingered over goodbyes like a pro.
I strategically left things on my bunk bed I had to run back to retrieve and handed out hugs to everyone who wanted one twice over.
I asked Luke to explain the different paint finishes they offer at Bridger Hardware specifically to get a nice, long answer.
Nathan, of course is an absolute menace about our happiness.
I’m a little worried he can see in the dark and knows exactly what went down between Reed and me when we said goodnight.
Reed tries to silence him with his annoyed frown, but there’s no heat in it.
I don’t think he realizes he’s been giving me hot looks all morning, acting like his job entirely consists of setting me ablaze with his eyes.
Give that man a raise because well done.
But eventually, everyone has to leave the happiest place in the woods.
Reed’s got his hand on my knee again, his thumb tracing circles as he drives us through the pines. And yes, I’m wearing his sweatshirt again today. It’s for warmth. And possibly because I never want to take it off.
He glances over, wowing me with that soft smile I can hardly believe is a regular event now. “They didn’t scare you off, did they?”
He’s checked on me several times as if he thinks a weekend with his family might make me run the opposite direction and not look back.
I know he can find them overwhelming, but I don’t have that problem.
If anything, they should be afraid of me moving in and claiming squatter’s rights on the whole bunch of them.
They’re mine now. No apologies to anyone trying to prove lawful ownership.
“Not possible.”
He chuckles. “Not even the debate over breakfast about whether or not a hotdog counts as a sandwich?”
A group of that many people gets up to some interesting conversations, that’s for sure.
“I thought Graham’s position made sense, but Lucy’s argument was equally compelling.” I squeeze his hand, lacing our fingers together. “I liked it. It felt like—”
Home. You feel like home. But I can’t say that yet. We’ve been a couple for real for approximately forty-eight hours—I might not know why most of my past relationships crumbled, but I’m smart enough to be aware that telling a man you’re head-over-heels in love with him this soon is a red flag.
An achingly true red flag.
Is it all that soon, though? We’ve only been official for forty-eight hours, but we’ve been getting to know each other for eighteen months.
That’s a lot of time to learn someone’s character and see what makes them tick.
Suss out their secret soft spots. Create a friendship where you can truly be yourself.
But I’m pretty sure saying it out loud right now would still be doing too much.
“It was the best time,” I say simply.
“What are you doing the rest of the day?”
“I’ll probably keep looking at paint colors online.
Maybe thrift a little to find things to go in the house to make it look more like my own.
” I’ve redistributed some of the items from my bedroom, but the living room looks like I’m still moving in.
Which I guess I am. Every time I move a colorful knick knack downstairs, I feel like I’m trespassing on someone else’s property.
“Do your parents know about your changes yet?”
Some of my delight at the prospect of thrifting fades, and my shoulders sag. “I haven’t mentioned it.”
I hate how pathetic that sounds. I can’t tell my parents I painted my house? But I’ve convinced myself I’m not hurting anything by waiting. They’re in Australia for three months at least, and then they’re spending time in New Zealand. I can explain everything before they come home for Christmas.
I’m still chewing my lip over taking the chicken’s way out yet again when Reed pulls into my driveway.
He brings my bags up to the porch for me even though my luggage consists of a backpack and a toiletry bag.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to invite him in, but I hesitate.
With all the big feelings banging around inside me right now, if he did come in, it probably wouldn’t be for a casual hang-out sesh.
Just like telling him I’m wild for him, some things need a little more time to simmer.
Probably. I’m on the fence about it at the moment.
It takes approximately forty-five seconds for desire to win out over caution.
“Do you want to come in?” I blurt out. So smooth.
“Yes.” He moves closer, and I retreat a step until my back hits the door. A shiver goes up my spine as he hovers over me, tantalizingly close. “But I’m not going to.”
“Oh-kay.” It’s hard to form words when my body’s got a severe case of hot-to-cold whiplash.
“I have to go into work later and get the prep done for tomorrow.” He trails his fingers along my hairline, playing with the loose wisps there. “If I come inside right now, I won’t want to leave again for a good long while.”
“It could be a quick visit.” Apparently, I get breathy when I beg. And grabby. My hands are clenched in his shirt, keeping him close.
His mouth curls, his gaze darkening as it sticks on mine. “There’s no such thing as a quick visit when it comes to you, firefly. I plan on taking my time.”
I am suddenly, desperately too hot to be wearing Reed’s sweatshirt. Tingles cascade over my skin, every inch of it singing in approval of this plan. He leans down, slanting his mouth over mine.
Reed kisses me like nobody ever has before and nobody else will again. Like I’m poetry, and he’s a scholar determined to learn every nuance and meaning behind my responses. Or maybe he’s the poet, writing sonnets across my lips.
Yeah. We should close the coffee shop tomorrow. Take a day off to take our time.
“You don’t have much privacy up on the porch like that,” a woman’s voice calls.
Reed draws away enough to look over his shoulder. An older neighbor of mine strolls down the street, using a walking stick to help her along. Another one of my mother’s friends, and part of Fran and Nora’s inner circle.
“Hi, Barb.” I wave from behind Reed, whose hands still cup my face. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
“It’s nice enough. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take it inside.” She waves, shooing us away as she carries herself out of view.
When Reed looks back at me, his eyes have returned to their normal chocolate brown. Barb doused his smolder like pouring water over a campfire. I’m both grateful and annoyed that not all of Mom’s friends are keen to see us making out in public.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asks.
“Having dinner with Cassie, from library craft night.” Her text inviting me to hang out at Delish sounded like the perfect plan a few days ago, but now I wish my schedule was completely empty so Reed can claim it all.
Not truly, though. I’m looking forward to getting to know her better. I don’t want to be that woman who cancels plans with friends to be with a man. Even if I’ve heard that exact advice somewhere before.
His mouth quirks. “The next night?”
“I’m free on Tuesday.”
He nods. “Tuesday it is.”
I won’t be counting down the minutes or anything.
He presses one last, lingering kiss to the side of my mouth. Exactly over my dimple, which is probably going crazy from how wildly I’m smiling right now.
“I should go.” He makes it sound like a hardship. My grump knows how to get a girl to swoon.
With every step he takes toward his Bronco, disappointment wells inside me like the tide washing in. I can be patient until our date. We’ll see each other tomorrow. I can exercise self-control.
Well. He did say I didn’t need to work on my self-control, didn’t he? No point in being too patient.
I run down the porch steps after him. “Reed.”
He turns. “Yeah?”
I throw myself into his arms, giving him the sendoff he deserves.
Our mouths fuse, his arms wrapping around me to lift me off my feet.
His back hits the side of the Bronco, and I’m sure we’re making an even bigger, more public display of our affection than the kiss Barb witnessed. Watch me not care.
Kissing Reed Bridger is a delight I’m determined to indulge in every day. The scratch of his beard. The play of his tongue. The strength of his hands splayed across my back. I am a crow, and his kisses are all the best shiny things I’ve ever seen. I want every possible variety for my collection.
Happiness burns through me so bright, I smile against his mouth. Nerves still linger like dust motes I can’t clear away when it comes to the uncharted territory we’re headed into, but who better to help me through it than a former park ranger?
When I finally pull back and he sets me on my feet, I beam up at him. “See you tomorrow.”
His newfound smiles are amazing, but the dazed look in his eyes right now, like he’s not quite thinking clearly? I should pat myself on the back for that.
I let myself inside the house, the rumble of Reed’s Bronco driving off giving me the same warm fuzzies as listening to Stormy’s happy purr. I assume. I haven’t actually experienced it yet. Miracles happen every day, right?
The moment I close and lock the door behind me, my phone starts to ring. I pull it out and see my mom’s name on the screen. Her timing is so uncanny, my skin prickles along my back. It’s almost like they’re watching me on secret cameras.
I peer into the corners of the room, even though I know there’s nothing there. Reed and I just painted these walls, and I pulled down all their old decor. If they had cameras in here, they would know about the redecorating, and I would have already heard their opinions on it.
Still. Seriously considering even for a moment that my parents might be spying on me is a pretty bleak assessment.
“Hi, Mom.” I go upstairs to my room rather than hang out on the stiff-backed couch.
Stormy’s curled up on my bed, and my overworked heart melts a little more for him.
He hasn’t actually slept in my bed at night yet, but this is a huge step.
I gently settle on the other side of the bed, careful not to disturb him.
“Rosie! Are you having a good weekend, honey?”
“It’s Monday here,” Dad shouts in the background. “Our weekend’s over and done!”
“I’ve had a really good weekend.” I slide a hand over the bed so Stormy can smell it. His nose twitches, possibly because I still carry an aura of campfire. He taps my hand with his nose a few times before giving it a head bonk. Progress! “Reed took me to his family’s cabin up in Bigleaf Canyon.”
“Oh.” Mom’s gasp sounds perfectly rehearsed for the stage. “Was his family with you or were you alone?”
Her emphasis on the last word probably comes complete with eyebrow waggles.
“We were with his family, Mom.”
She makes a noise like an excited mouse. “Things must be getting serious for him to introduce you to his family.”
“Very serious,” Dad echoes.
“I’ve already met his family. They come into the coffee shop all the time.”
“But this is different. This is progress.”
I don’t like how perfectly she repeated my own thoughts about my efforts with Stormy. Is she in my head, or am I in hers?
“They consider you part of their family now,” she adds.
After the Bridgers’ generous welcome, I don’t doubt that’s true. But I don’t like Mom making it sound like we’re co-conspirators who masterminded Reed’s invitation to the cabin. As if all her sneaky “get your crush to love you” articles finally paid off, and now I’m in some elusive winner’s circle.
“This is an important stage, honey. Don’t rock the boat now. You want to be sure you’re nice and agreeable so they’ll see you for the sweetheart you are. You didn’t wear shabby clothes all weekend, did you?”
Probably not the time to tell her I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours without a dot of makeup on, smelling like campfire smoke, and licking my fingers clean after roasting my own s’mores. Dad would have to pick her up off the floor.
She constantly reminds me I need to look my best for men, but I don’t think Reed cares. He doesn’t look at me like he does. Sometimes I think he likes me more the more rumpled I am.
“My clothes were fine.” And mostly belonged to Reed, but again, that wouldn’t reassure her. Or it would possibly reassure her too much. It’s hard to tell.
“Just be sure you’re at your best, honey. When you think you’ve put in enough effort, try a little more. You don’t want your relationship with Reed to fall apart now.”
All weekend, I was a little Rose-balloon, floating above the sun-dappled grass. In one fell swoop, Mom crushed that Rose-balloon back down to the ground. I don’t think she means to drain my happiness, but that doesn’t change the end result.
Exhaustion overtakes me as if I haven’t slept in days. “I don’t have much time this afternoon, Mom. I’ve got plans.”
Plans to keep remodeling my house she hasn’t given up control of. Confessing about a little coat of paint doesn’t seem all that urgent when she still wants to steer my life, too.
“Okay, honey. We’re rooting for you not to mess this one up.” She laughs sweetly as she cuts me to ribbons. “We want you to hold onto that man!”
I imagine someone talking to Jovie like this, peppering their conversation with back-handed compliments and subtle insults.
Before the make-believe scene even finishes playing out, anger rises up inside me to knock that person down.
I want to defend Reed’s little niece from the thousand tiny pinpricks comments like this leave behind.
But when it’s me and my mom? When I’m the one facing an onslaught of playful reminders of my mistakes and insecurities? I can’t find the words.
“I’ll talk to you soon.” I hang up without waiting for her goodbye and toss the phone aside. Stormy shifts, not appreciating that rude behavior, but he closes his eyes again a second later.
More than anything, I want to hold onto what I’ve got with Reed. But I feel less equipped to do that than ever.