CHAPTER 13
KNOX
My woman is nervous. I can feel it. Hell, it’s coming off her in waves, and I hate it.
The last thing I want is for her to be nervous or scared when it comes to me. Still, there’s nothing I can do to alleviate her worries. Not right now.
Haven has taken a huge risk by agreeing to go out with me.
Not only that, but I’m taking her to my place.
I’m asking a lot of her, and I know it. But, at the same time, there’s no doubt in my mind that I won’t break her trust. I won’t put her in a situation where she can be hurt, emotionally or physically.
I’ll protect her.
All I need is a chance to prove it and she’s giving it to me.
It’s a gift I won’t take lightly.
After saying goodbye to Wilde, Haven allows me to lead her out of the room and to the front door of Safe Home. This is a big step and from the way her hands are shaking, she is very much aware of how much this matters. Even though she’s unsure, she doesn’t stop me, and it makes my heart soar.
“I promise, we’ll keep our date tonight short. If you need to come back here at any time to check on Wilde, we can do that. No questions asked, no guilt, no judgement,” my words are a promise, a vow I will always keep when it comes to her.
She takes me in for a moment, her blue eyes searching my face intently. If she’s looking for any hint that I’m lying, she won’t find it. One thing I’ll never do is lie to her. It’s not worth the fallout; not when she won’t always like my honesty but will be able to trust it.
“You’re serious,” her words are filled with awe, not accusation.
“Of course.” I shrug like it’s no big deal even though we both know it is. “I’ll never lie to you, little storm.”
A small smile tugs at her lip as I open the passenger side door of my truck and try—and fail—not to watch her ass as she climbs in and sits down. The moment I round the front and slide into place behind the wheel, she turns toward me.
“What’s with the nickname?”
I chuckle under my breath, not at all surprised that she’s asked so bluntly. “You are a storm, Haven, and the shelter all in one. You’ve come into my life when I least expected it, but I’m ready to ride out the high winds and the deluge of the rain because of what comes after.”
“What comes after?”
“The calm and the rainbow,” I answer her.
“Storms can destroy,” she points out, her voice gentle as if she expects this to be some revelation. It’s not.
“Sometimes,” I acquiesce, “but not always. Sometimes a storm is just dark clouds and rain. Sometimes it’s more severe. Either way, we’ll deal with what comes our way.”
She makes a humming sound but when I look at her out of the corner of my eye, there’s a small smile playing on her lips, one she can’t hide. While she might not say it, she likes the nickname I have for her.
My storm.
Totally unexpected.
It could be devastating.
It could be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
I’m more than willing to find out.
When it doesn’t take long for us to pull into the driveway of my home, Haven looks surprised and a little startled. I chuckle and cover my mouth to stop her from seeing the wide grin on my face. She’s so damn cute, but I have a feeling she wouldn’t be amused if I were to tell her as much.
“I don’t live very far from Safe Home,” I admit and rub the back of my neck. “Until I started doing the art class, I had no idea it was even in the neighborhood next to mine, which is the point, for sure.”
“I bet it’s made being over for class so early a little easier.”
“No matter what time I needed to be there, I committed to teaching the class because it’s important.
Art is so important,” my voice drops lower, “and it can save someone’s life.
Being able to help the kids hone their skills and have it not be about art therapy or sharing their feelings, just the love of art, is powerful. ”
“I know how much art has helped Wilde,” Haven admits softly. “Even before we left, he would disappear into his art. I think it gave him solace when so much felt out of control.”
I nod in understanding and take a chance by reaching over and giving her knee a squeeze. Not wanting to push her too far, too fast, I nod toward my house and ask, “Are you ready to head in?”
After twisting her fingers together in her lap, she gives a hesitant nod. I could ask if she’s sure, but I don’t want to give her the chance to change her mind. I also want her to know that I trust her to know her own mind.
“Great,” my voice is far too upbeat, but it is what it is and I’m out of the car before she can say anything.
I help her out of my truck and then up the few stairs of the porch, not a word spoken between us. She’s nervous and her steps are wooden. But I just need a chance to show her she has nothing to fear. We just need a little time.
While Haven is nervous, my hands are steady as I unlock the door and swing it open for her. She’ll always walk into the room ahead of me, unless there’s potential danger. I made sure to leave the lights on in the house, wanting it to be welcoming for her.
Her eyes widen when she steps inside and her head swings one direction and then the other to take everything in. “This is your house?” Her innocent question is tinged with disbelief I completely understand.
“It is.” I pause for a moment while gently ushering her a little deeper inside. “It was not this put together when I found it,” I admit and she looks at me, curiosity shining in her blue depths. “It was mostly a solid foundation and beat up walls of lathe and plaster needing to be replaced.”
“Wow,” she breathes out and looks around again, this time with a deeper appreciation written all over her face. “Did you do the work yourself?”
I chuckle and nod. “I don’t do well if my hands are idle for too long. When I started looking for a house, I was already well established at Vibrant Ink, and I needed a project.”
Her back straightens in a way I don’t like at all. The wariness in her eyes when she looks at me is more than her not being sure about getting involved with a man. This is about me, and my gut clenches because of it.
“Is that what I am to you, a project?” Her eyes widen as the words spill from her lips, as if she didn’t mean to really ask the question.
“No,” I bark and she jumps slightly. I hate that I’ve startled her, but she needs to know how serious I am.
“You are not just some project, Haven.” When I step closer to her, she doesn’t move away from me, and I’m damn glad she doesn’t.
“You are everything,” I assure her and take her hand in mine.
“I’m trying so hard not to move too fast for you because I know someone treated you horribly and broke your trust. I’m trying to take this at your pace, but I have no doubt you and Wilde came into my life for a reason. ”
She whispers, “What reason?”
“To be mine. My family. My future. My everything.”
The words float between us like bubbles. Little pockets of hope where rainbows shimmer as the light refracts through the surface. Neither one of us wants to pop them.
“That’s,” Haven pauses and swallows hard, “a lot.”
I can’t help but smile at her. “I know and there’s no rush, but I’m not going to start lying or telling you half-truths now. It wouldn’t do either of us any good.”
“Well,” she muses, “that’s true.”
“Come on,” I offer her my hand, “let me give you a tour.”
There’s no hesitation as she takes my hand and I almost crow. Or strut. I’m feeling very strutty with her hand in mine.
As I show her around my house, I make sure to point out the original details I preserved as well as the things I needed to rebuild and put back into the home because someone else had stripped the charm away before it became mine.
Her blue eyes are wide as she takes everything in, asks questions, and gushes over the Craftsman style in every room.
The last room I take her into is the open floor plan kitchen and dining room. I used some built-ins to create a little separation between the dining area and the rest of the house while still keeping it relatively open. There are a lot of shelves in this part of the house which need to be filled.
After meeting Wilde and Haven, I can imagine the shelves being dotted with trinkets of our memories. My heart yearns for the day I can look at them and remember our life together and how much we’ve grown.
But we’re not there yet.
I point toward a seat at the island, “Have a seat, little storm.” She sits without bristling or feeling like I’m telling her what to do. It settles something in my chest. “Since you said it’s been a while since you’ve had shrimp, I figured I’d make shrimp scampi. How does that sound?”
When I look up, I find her staring at me with wide, awe-filled eyes. I can’t help but smirk at her reaction. Her answer isn’t necessary; I know I chose well.
She starts to nod slowly as she licks her lips which does nothing to help me keep a grip on my control. Her lips are so perfectly pouty. All I’ve wanted to do since I met her is kiss her.
But she’s not ready.
“That sounds really good.” She gnaws on her bottom lip and shifts in her seat like she’s uncomfortable. “Do you need any help?”
“No way,” I insist. “You’re my guest and I’m looking forward to cooking for you, Haven.”
She nods, but there’s uncertainty written all over her face.
It makes me wonder what kind of expectations were put on her by her ex.
I could guess, and I am, but until she’s willing to share with me then I won’t really know.
It wouldn’t surprise me to find out she was expected to take care of everything at home, including the cooking.
“I haven’t cooked like I used to,” she admits, her voice soft, “in about a year.”
It’s a breadcrumb. We both know it. I nod, taking in her words and not wanting to spook her when all I want to do is pepper her with questions about her past.
“Do you enjoy cooking?” She shrugs one shoulder and when she doesn’t offer up anything else I ask, “What’s your favorite thing to cook?”