7. Nolani #3
Mama Brooks looked between us. “He remembered what you ate?”
“He remembers everything.”
“Not everything,” Landon said.
“What’d you forget?”
He looked down.
His own plate was empty.
Of course.
I took the serving spoon before he could reach for it. “Hershey.”
I ignored him and put salmon on his plate, followed by potatoes, green beans, and a biscuit. “Sit.”
Warren lowered his fork.
Landon stared at me. “You giving orders in my mama’s house?”
“Nah. I’m feeding the man who fed everybody except himself.”
His expression changed only slightly, but I knew what I’d caught.
“Reciprocity,” I added.
Mama Brooks lifted her water glass. “Good. Somebody finally made him sit down.”
Landon looked between us. “This alliance formed entirely too fast.”
“You brought me into hostile territory without preparation.”
Warren raised his eyebrows. “Hostile?”
“Your wife accused your crab filling of cowardice.”
“It needed courage,” Mama Brooks said.
Warren considered the plate in front of him, then nodded. “That’s fair.”
I laughed, and lunch settled after that.
His parents asked about Crème & Chill without making me feel interviewed.
Mama Brooks described the butter pecan so dramatically I promised her another pint, and Warren told me Landon had once attempted to repair a lawn mower at eleven and nearly dismantled half the garage.
Landon denied several details. Nobody believed him.
His knee remained against mine beneath the table, and every once in a while, his hand found my thigh while he contributed something unnecessary near my ear.
Thunder rolled outside.
Warren glanced toward the windows. “Forecast said scattered storms.”
Mama Brooks followed his attention. “Scattered where? That cloud looks organized.”
Rain answered her. It struck the roof hard enough that conversation stopped beneath the sudden roar, and within minutes, the street disappeared behind silver sheets while water raced down the windows. I checked the radar.
“That moved fast.”
Landon leaned over my shoulder. “What’s it saying?”
“That I should’ve packed a canoe.”
Lightning flashed. Thunder followed close enough to shake the dishes. Landon looked toward the road, then back at me.
“You’re not driving back in that.”
“I wasn’t planning to leave this second.”
“And you’re not driving in it later if it keeps building.”
I turned toward him. “That sounds suspiciously like a decision.”
“It’s a preference.”
“A strong one?”
His eyes warmed. “Very.”
“And what exactly would you prefer?”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice until the answer belonged to me. “You safe. You close. And, since you asked, somewhere I don’t have to keep pretending I haven’t wanted you to myself all day.”
My fingers found the pendant.
His eyes dropped to them, then returned to mine.
Mama Brooks looked through the window. “Cabin’s closer than the athletic complex. County keeps those roads maintained too.”
I looked between them. “The cabin?”
“About twenty minutes from here,” Landon said. “Generator. Food. Clothes. Everything we need.”
“And my car?”
“Safe at the field. I’ll bring you back tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
That word had weight.
Landon waited. No persuasion. No explanation. Just those eyes on me while rain covered every available road home.
“You comfortable spending the night with me, Hershey?”
I lifted my chin. “Does the cabin have seafood?”
His eyebrows rose. “You just ate crab-stuffed salmon.”
“That was lunch. Nighttime has separate requirements.”
His laugh warmed his whole face. “I can make seafood happen.”
“Dark chocolate cheesecake?”
“I got you.”
“Candles?”
“Hershey.”
“What?”
“You negotiating romance like you don’t already know you coming with me.”
“Maybe I enjoy watching you work for certainty.”
He leaned back slightly. “Aight, love. Take your time. I ain’t scared of earning a yes.”
I studied him, then the storm, then him again.
“Yes.” His expression changed just enough for me to catch it. “I’m still expecting seafood.”
“That ain’t a condition. That’s a yes with a menu attached.”
“Do not disappoint me.”
“I don’t plan to.”
The storm kept closing the roads.
I stopped thinking about another way home.
By the time Landon returned downstairs after showering, he had changed into dark jeans and a black shirt that made fabric look complicit. His locs hung loose around his face, still damp at the ends.
I stared.
He caught me.
“Everything all right, love?”
“You appear adequately showered.”
“Adequately?”
“I don’t inflate performance reviews.”
“You looked long enough to gather longitudinal data.”
“I was confirming visual compliance.”
His eyes dropped to my mouth. “With your lips parted?”
I closed them.
His smile deepened.
Mama Brooks cleared her throat from the sofa. “I don’t have to document what everybody already saw.”
I covered my face.
Landon laughed and took my hand. “Come on before my family destroys what remains of your composure.”
“Your family?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting allocation of blame.”
He kissed his mother, clasped his father’s hand, and promised to call when we reached the cabin. Mama Brooks sent us away with a flashlight, water, and enough weather instructions to suggest Landon had never encountered rain without parental supervision.
Outside, he stopped beneath the porch overhang. “Stay here. I’ll bring the truck around.”
“I can walk through rain.”
“I know.” He kissed me before the argument grew legs. “Let me take care of you anyway.”
Then he ran through the downpour.
Seconds later, the SUV pulled beneath the porch. Landon came around with an umbrella, opened my door, and held it over me.
“You got wet bringing the truck ten feet closer.”
“And you didn’t.”
“Poor resource allocation.”
“My preference.”
“A strong one?”
He looked at me. “I’m becoming attached to several things.”
The answer stayed with me after he closed the door. Rain hammered the roof while we pulled away, and his hand settled on my thigh within the first block.
I looked down at it. “Are you conducting research again?”
“Passive observation.”
“Your hand is on my thigh.”
“Exactly.”
“That is not passive.”
“Depends on the methodology.”
“You abuse higher education.”
“I apply it.”
His fingers moved slightly higher. I crossed my legs and trapped his hand.
Landon glanced down. “That an objection?”
“Ethics review.”
“You got my hand locked between your thighs, and somehow, I’m under investigation.”
“You entered the area without written authorization.”
He laughed, then turned his palm upward. No reaching farther. No testing me. Just an open hand.
I slipped mine into it.
His fingers closed around mine.
That was all.
By the time we stopped at the seafood restaurant, I had nearly forgotten the argument. Landon accepted two large bags beneath the covered drive, and the smell hit immediately. Garlic. Butter. Seasoning.
I looked behind us. “That smells excessive.”
“You requested seafood.”
“I didn’t request the Gulf.”
“Snow crab, shrimp, blackened redfish, corn, potatoes, garlic bread.”
“Landon.”
“What?”
“That is entirely too much food.”
“You said nighttime had separate requirements.”
“And cheesecake?”
He nodded toward another bag. “Dark chocolate.”
I stared at him. “You really got everything.”
“I said I would.”
Something about the simplicity of that answer touched me more than it should’ve. I squeezed his hand.
“I know.”
The cabin appeared behind a stand of pines, dark wood warmed by amber porch lights. Beyond it, the lake disappeared beneath the storm except when lightning spread silver across the surface. Landon parked beneath a covered carport and turned toward me while rain drummed overhead.
“Stay here while I get the food.”
I looked at him.
He sighed. “Would you please remain inside the warm, dry vehicle while I carry the bags, love?”
“Marginally better.”
“I’m growing.”
“As you wish.”
His eyes changed at hearing his own words returned, then he kissed me.
“Smart-ass.”
“Educated smart-ass.”
“Even worse.”
He unloaded everything, came back with the umbrella, and walked me inside.
The cabin smelled like cedar and clean linen. A stone fireplace anchored the living room, surrounded by leather furniture, bookshelves, board games, and framed family photographs. Tall windows looked over the lake, though tonight they held little more than moving darkness.
Landon placed the food on the kitchen island. “What you think?”
“I think somebody has been withholding valuable real estate.”
“You’ve known me a week.”
“And already secrets.”
“I literally brought you here.”
“Under meteorological duress.”
Landon came behind me and settled both hands at my waist. “You think I needed rain to get you alone?”
“You seem grateful for it.”
“I’m grateful you safe.” His mouth brushed beneath my ear. “Everything else is a bonus.”
I turned inside his arms. “Bonus?”
“Significant one.”
His mouth found mine.
The kiss moved slowly, deeper than the ones at the field but still patient. My hands slid up his chest and around his neck while his stayed at my waist. I rose onto my toes, and his breathing changed before he pulled back.
“You keep doing that, dinner gon’ become breakfast.”
“You started it.”
“You turned around looking soft in my arms.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
“Very much.” I smiled. He kissed it. “Come on. Let me get you comfortable.”
The bedroom held a king-sized bed, dark bedding, wooden furniture, and another set of windows facing the lake. Landon opened a dresser drawer filled with shirts, sweats, and shorts.
“Bathroom stocked too. Take whatever you need.”
I looked inside at clothing designed for somebody several inches taller and considerably broader. “Do you own anything that won’t swallow me?”
“That’s the point.”
I turned toward him. “The point is for me to disappear inside your clothes?”
“The point is for you to walk around in something that belongs to me while I practice restraint.”
“That sounds like a poorly designed system.”
“High-risk environment.”
“Should I select something safer?”
“Nah.” His eyes moved over my dress. “I’ve reviewed the risk.”
“And?”
“Accepted the consequences.”
He backed out and closed the door.