Chapter 11 #2
Harrison stared at him. “You got all that out of some gossip from your sheriff buddy and some flowers?”
“I got all that from the look on your face when you talked about her.”
“What look?”
“The look that says you found somebody who’s worth staying in the now and looking to the future instead of hanging in the past.”
“The alternative is that she looks at the opportunities she’s presented with and actively chooses life, chooses to engage, chooses to feel.”
It really was a crying shame not to take time to linger in the claw-foot bathtub, but Ivy was far too hyped up to simply sit, languishing in bubbles.
The book was cooking. So much so that she’d set herself five alarms to make sure she was ready early for her dinner with Harrison, lest she get sucked in again and still be in her author’s uniform of leggings, an ancient sweatshirt from her alma mater, and a messy bun, with no makeup when he arrived.
Not that he hadn’t seen her looking the worse for wear, but she wanted to wow him when he came to get her, in case he’d been rethinking the wisdom of their involvement.
Things between them had escalated so quickly because of the close-quarters circumstances.
Gaining some distance had been necessary for work, but what if he’d changed his mind about her?
What if she’d built up this whole fantasy about what they were or could be to each other and the guy who came to get her was…
something else? What if the intimacy they’d shared had been an illusion?
Those questions had been enough to scare the crap out of her, so she’d buried herself in the book, throwing Annika unavoidably into Michael’s path.
Better to force him to face facts than make herself crazy facing her own.
But now she’d stepped away from the book and all those insecurities had come roaring back to the forefront.
How should she greet him? Probably grabbing him by the shirtfront and dragging him into her room wasn’t the way to go, no matter how much she wanted to.
A hug? A kiss on the cheek? Should she take the lead or wait to see what he did?
Would she have to start all over earning his trust?
Or would he be the same guy who’d blown her brain with a lingering kiss on the porch when he’d left two days ago?
Because she was perilously close to pacing the floor, Ivy sat back down at her laptop.
“If you’re gonna make anybody nuts, do it to Michael.”
She fell back into the story, deep enough that when the knock came on the door some time later, it took her a few moments to register where she was.
Harrison.
Her heart leapt with nerves and excitement.
Shoving back from the desk, she rushed across the room in bare feet, pausing with her hand on the knob to try to get herself under control so she didn’t look as over-eager as she felt.
Sucking in a few calming breaths, she fixed a smile on her face and opened the door.
A massive bouquet of flowers blocked her view.
Flowers?
Lifting her gaze, she spotted Harrison behind them, ears faintly pink, looking hella uncomfortable.
The fixed smile melted into a genuine one. “You brought me flowers? Awww.” Reaching out, she accepted them from his outstretched hand and buried her face in the sweet-smelling blooms.
All the nerves, all the angst and questions, seeped out of her.
He’d brought her flowers. A man didn’t bring flowers to a woman he didn’t actually like or was planning to break things off with.
Flowers—especially flowers like these—took a little thought and planning.
So he’d been thinking of her as she had him.
A little giddy with relief, she grinned up at him. “Come in.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he stepped into her room.
Belatedly, she looked around, wondering what state she’d left the place in.
Thankfully, she hadn’t been deep in the book long enough for it to turn into a pig sty.
There was no pile of dirty clothes in the floor and the bed was actually made, courtesy of the inn staff.
Of course, that just had her thinking about tumbling him onto it and mussing that neat comforter.
“These are beautiful. I’ll have to ask Pru for something to put them in.”
Fidgeting a little, Harrison scrubbed a hand at the back of his neck. “I should’ve thought of that.”
Wanting to put him at ease, she lifted to her toes and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “You thought of me, which I appreciate. Thank you.”
His hand slid around her waist, his dark eyes intent on hers in a way that made her stomach jump. “I’ve thought of little else the last couple of days.”
She sensed the admission was hard-won. Maybe he’d struggled as much as she had being apart.
Setting the flowers aside so they wouldn’t get crushed, Ivy flowed into him, feeling all the nerves settle as his arms came around her.
His broad hand slid into her hair, angling her head for a kiss.
Then his lips were on hers and every doubt, every question faded.
She hadn’t romanticized this, hadn’t imagined it. He still wanted her and lord, did she still want him. Needing to get closer, she slid her hands up and over his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Maybe she could revisit that dragging him to bed scenario.
“Hey Ivy, did you need—oh!”
Feeling her cheeks go nuclear, Ivy pulled back to glance toward the still open door, where Pru’s teenaged daughter, Ari, stood.
The girl didn’t even bother to hide her smile. “Sorry.”
Ivy had to clear her throat to speak. “It’s fine. Did I need what?”
“I saw him bring in the flowers, so I thought you might need a vase.” She held up the one she carried.
“That’s very thoughtful. Thanks, Ari.”
The girl stepped into the room, far enough to set the vase on a table. “I’m just gonna leave this here and get out of your way.” Hastily backing up, she grabbed the door and swung it closed behind her. “Have a good night!”
Chuckling, Ivy dropped her head to Harrison’s chest. “Well, now I feel way too weird to do what I really want to do.”
“What’s that?”
She lifted her head. “Show you exactly how soft and cushy this bed is.”
Heat flared in his eyes. “There’s always later.”
“I like later.”
“What about the meantime? How’s the book coming?”
She pulled away, snagging his hand and dragging him over to her new laptop. Triumphant, she pointed at the bottom of the screen. “Behold that word count!”
Harrison went brows up. “You’ve cranked out nearly seventeen thousand words in two days?”
“Damned skippy! My brain is gonna be completely useless goo when this book is done, but it’s going to be done. That’s the important part.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“What’s even more fantastic is that it’s good.
Some of the best work I’ve done. I mean, I think.
I’m probably not exactly unbiased at this stage.
But I’m loving the story. I’m loving the chance to peel back their layers and show them as so much more than what the reader saw before.
” Squeezing his hand in gratitude, she smiled up at him.
“You saw it first. I couldn’t have done this without you.
You’ve helped me fall back in love with writing again. ”
And maybe more than a little bit with you.
The realization slid between her ribs like a knife, leaving her stunned and only a few steps ahead of panic. Oh God.
It was too much, too fast. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She couldn’t be in love with him. Not really. It was just lust. Wasn’t it?
“Do you need to take notes?”
Ivy blinked up at him. “What?”
“You’ve got that distracted look, like you’ve just had a major plot realization. Do you need to write it down before we leave for dinner?”
That he’d think of that, respect that, made her heart go gooey. Damn it. This wasn’t just lust.
“No. No, I definitely won’t forget this.” Squeezing his hand, she stepped away to find her shoes, grateful for the opportunity to hide her face for a moment. “Let’s go get some dinner.”