7. She Didn’t See Any Red Flags
She Didn’t See Any Red Flags
Lola
The knock on the door finally came just after six.
Anticipation thrummed in my chest. After a final twirl in front of the mirror to check my floral dress from every angle, I stumbled out of the bedroom, almost tripping over my feet.
A pause behind the front door. A deep breath in. My heart only raced faster.
“Calm down,” I mumbled to myself.
But I couldn’t. I’d overdone it. The chicken roasting in the oven. The apple pie baking below it. My make-up. The dress. The sheer blush-pink underwear I’d painstakingly chosen to slip on underneath. It was too much. All of it. Everything.
I clutched the doorknob, my fingers unsteady on the cold brass. Fear stopped me from opening my life to a new possibility.
I’d asked Aiden to come for dinner, but…
Was it wrong to crave his compliments? More? It had been three months since I’d escaped Sydney. Should I wait longer before inviting Aiden into my bed? I ached for closeness, for honest love, but was he searching for that, too? Maybe not. He’d warned me he wasn’t a good man…
I squeezed my eyes shut and let my mind float back to the day before. Aiden’s cautious touches. So many incredible kisses. His sighs and the reluctant way he’d eased away from me, his grey eyes lingering. He always seemed as though he was about to say something but never did.
Did he want to whisper that everything was happening too fast?
I didn’t trust my instincts. How could I? I was too needy. Too clingy. Too… Lola . But I hadn’t imagined Aiden’s tenderness. He’d called me love . I could trust that.
After one more deep breath in, I opened the door.
Aiden waited on the other side, a frown locked on the darkening sky before he turned to me.
My stomach tumbled in a somersault. Words weren’t possible yet.
Not when he looked so handsome and rough all at once.
He’d made an extra effort, too. His dark hair was combed but had a damp shine as if he’d just showered, and he wore a white Henley and dark pants instead of his usual flannel and jeans.
I hugged the door to keep myself steady. “H-hello,” I said.
No hello in response. Aiden thrust a bottle of wine and a posy wrapped in pink paper at me instead.
“The lavender is from my place,” he said. “It grows like a weed up in the hills.” Almost groaning, his chest deflated. “I’m not…giving you weeds…” His throat bobbed on a heavy swallow. “It smells good.”
“Thank you.”
Fighting the tremble in my chin, I reached for the gifts and savoured the delicate fragrance of his hand-picked flowers.
Aiden’s simple gestures touched my heart in a way Chris’s gifts never had.
His guilty conscience had showered me with endless diamond baubles—lavish apologies for his busy hands and his wandering eye.
Chris thought I didn’t know about the other women. For a long time, I’d cried quietly in the shower, stung by my failure to keep him happy. For an even longer time, I’d sighed with relief when he’d slunk home smelling like another woman’s perfume…or worse. Those nights had been quiet.
I arched on my tiptoes to kiss Aiden’s cheek. “And thank you for coming.”
But my lips never landed. In a blur, he pulled me against his chest, the lavender squashing between us, his mouth melting into mine. Oh, I loved his fierce kisses. I cupped his cheek, drawing him closer in a heated, sensual frenzy.
A groan rumbled in his chest. “Lola…” He untangled himself and stepped back to put some distance between us. “I promised myself I’d be a gentleman… Treat you right… Not…” He raked a hand through his hair, jaw tight as he exhaled. “Tonight’s just dinner.”
“O-oh.” I forced a shaky smile onto my face.
“Just, um… Dinner .” My dilemma about waiting had been answered for me, but I was too embarrassed to look anywhere but at my feet.
“I’m roasting a chicken…and…and some vegetables…
And I’m baking an apple pie.” I fumbled with the belt on my dress to make sure it was cinched extra tight.
“I love apple pie.”
I’d hoped he’d say that, but I still couldn’t force my eyes up.
“It won’t take long. Please.” I gestured for him to come inside.
“Take a seat in the living room. I’ll pop the lavender into some water and pour us a drink.
We can try your wine…or… I made some old-fashioned lemonade.
” A nervous laugh tumbled out. “Fresh lemons. Yolanda has a tree out back. She, um…” She’d handed me a bowl full and offered plenty of unsolicited tips about how to lure a man through his stomach. “Yeah.”
Calloused fingertips touched my chin. “I’d like to try your lemonade.” Aiden’s eyes crinkled with a soft smile.
This time, when he headed for the couch, no panic flooded over me. The cottage was spotless. My half-finished jigsaw had been cleared off the coffee table. No glasses were where they shouldn’t be. Every surface had been wiped over, and the floors vacuumed. Twice.
I disappeared into the kitchen. My hand still shook when I poured the lemonade.
“Hold yourself together,” I hissed at myself in a frantic pep talk. “It’s just dinner.”
Pale yellow liquid sloshed around in frosted glasses when I walked down the hallway.
Just dinner.
After I carefully placed the drinks on the coffee table, the couch groaned as I squeezed into the narrow space beside Aiden’s enormous frame. I gasped. My thighs were flush against rigid muscles. I sat up taller, trying not to take up more room, but there was no avoiding how close we were.
“I’m sorry about the couch,” I said. “This place came mostly furnished. I’m not complaining.
It was helpful because, um… I travelled light.
” One suitcase was light. It wasn’t a lie.
“But a lot of what was left here is quite old.” I gulped.
“And small.” Far too small to be comfortable for a man his size.
“It’s cosy. It’s you.”
Just dinner.
“Try the lemonade,” I squeaked.
“Lola…”
Cautiously, I looked up. The eyes waiting for me didn’t look like they were interested in tasting my homemade drink. No, those stormy grey eyes looked hungry for something…more.
Just dinner.
“I wasn’t totally honest with you before,” Aiden said.
“Y-you weren’t?”
He shook his head. The muted musk of his cologne curled around me when he edged closer. He tucked my hair behind my ear and ghosted a kiss on the spot just beside it. Bristly beard and warm breath lingered on my neck.
“I want to make love to you,” he whispered.
Longing sighed through me, the ache twisting a confession from my lips. “I want that.”
“Do you?” He seemed to like nuzzling the spot beside my glasses. “Have you thought about us? Don’t be shy. Tell me.”
“Y-yes.”
“I’ve thought about you.”
“You have?”
He groaned against my skin. “Too many times…”
Dinner was almost impossible.
Our knees knocked together under the tiny table.
My nervous chatter about books was pointless, and neither of us seemed interested in eating.
Every time my fork rattled against the plate, and I darted up a look, Aiden’s eyes were already waiting.
He insisted on helping me wash up, murmuring his appreciation in my ear more than once.
But I was the one who laced our fingers together and led him to the bedroom.
Antique brass creaked as I sank onto the bed. The scent of fresh linen and the slide of cool cotton along my thighs did nothing to settle my nerves.
This wasn’t just dinner.
The mattress dipped, and a soft kiss found my cheek.
“Let’s take these off…” Aiden murmured, slipping off my glasses and carefully placing them on the nightstand.
The world blurred, just out of focus, but it didn’t matter. When Aiden’s lips found mine, I followed without thinking, only feeling. More —that was what I needed. An insistent grab of his shirt and his weight pressed me into the sheets.
Aiden chuckled. “I’m not sure if this bed is made for someone my size.”
No, it wasn’t. The leg he hadn’t thrown over mine dangled off the edge.
“Do you want to try somewhere else—”
“God, no,” he said. “I’ve dreamed about you on these pink sheets. We’re staying right here.”
Smiling, I arched up, capturing his lips for more of his kisses. My heart couldn’t keep up with so many new sensations. I loved being with Aiden—kissing him, the warmth of his big body stretched out against mine, holding me close but far less greedy with his touches than I was.
I knew the names of all the muscles and tendons bunched under my fingertips, but medicine was the furthest thing from my mind.
I trailed my hand down his chest, lower…
lower… My fingertips snuck under the bumpy white cotton, hitching it up just a little.
He sighed against my cheek but took the hint.
He’d barely peeled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor before I got my hands on his bare chest.
“Oh,” I sighed. “You’re so…”
Perfect.
Aiden was broad, so strong, but he wasn’t like the guys obsessed with going to the gym.
My fingers brushed over his defined shoulders and solid arms, the rugged ridges of muscle on his chest, all covered with a bit of extra padding—he did seem to love his food—and patches of dark, crinkly fuzz in just the right places.
“I like your little hands on me,” he whispered.
Good.
My hands still had so many places—so much man —to explore for the first time. And he liked it. A lot.
Aiden never talked much, but there was no restraint in how he expressed pleasure. Deep groans of approval rumbled in his chest, and slow kisses turned hungry, his touches deliberate, intentionally sensual, a desperate heat throbbing between my thighs…
Until he captured my hand and pinned my wrist to the bed.
I froze.
The wooden beams of the ceiling shifted from swirling in light and shadow to pitch black. Fear locked my eyes shut even when a tentative kiss grazed my cheek.
“Lola?” The heaviness of him eased off my body, but I still didn’t dare breathe. “I did something wrong.”