Chapter 19

He’d made fried chicken, potato salad, and sliced watermelon. Drake had even brought along her favorite peanut butter cookies from Sweet Tooth Bakery and a bottle of wine. A picnic. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around it.

Zoe shook her head while sitting on the stone steps near the cove and gazed at the horizon. Tide was coming in, filling the small patch of beach with water. Dusk settled, casting the sky in pink and purple hues and turning the water black. Stars were beginning to wink overhead. With the rocky bluffs surrounding them, it felt like they were the only two people in existence.

Drake O’Grady definitely knew how to plan a date. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was wasted on her. The future was uncertain and, let’s face it, she was a sure thing. When he was ready to be intimate, she’d be there. All she could give him was now. Until she took the blood test and the results came in, they were suspended in a what-if state.

And yet her throat grew tight at his gesture. He’d bought her flowers and opened her car door and had even made food for a picnic. She’d known all her life Drake was a rare breed of gallant, but this exceeded expectations. How many times as a teen had she laid in bed dreaming of a date with him? How many stupid fantasies had rolled around in her head after Heather died for just one night with him?

From next to her, Drake poured the last of the wine in their glasses and set the empty bottle in the basket on the steps by his feet. “You’re awfully quiet.”

She took a sip to cool her throat and forced a smile. “How odd you would complain about it.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m concerned.”

“Don’t be. I’m having a great time.” Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. Those shoulders had carried such enormous weight through the years, and her gut ached that she might be adding to it.

“Me, too.” He kissed the top of her head and spoke into her hair. “But it’s not like you to be silent this long. Makes me wonder if the end of days is coming. Talk to me.”

“About what?” If he knew what she’d been thinking, he’d get upset or, worse, convince her to backtrack.

“Anything. Nothing. I don’t care.”

Closing her eyes, she smiled and thought about the last time she’d been here. “Did you know that a great way to avoid consuming calories after nine p.m. is to eat a tub of ice cream at eight-fifty?”

His laugh ruffled her hair. “Is that your way of telling me you want ice cream?”

“No. I said the same thing to Gabby when we came out here one night a few years ago with a pint of mint chocolate chip. She’d gone on a date that went horribly wrong. She cried buckets, like Gabby tends to do, and we did some male bashing as therapy.”

“And what great piece of advice did you bestow on our Gabby? Knowing you, there was some snarky opinion involved.”

Setting her chin on his shoulder, she looked up at him. “Of course. But I can’t break girl code to tell you.”

“It all worked out anyway. Her and Flynn are… What does Brent say? Epic?” He took her glass and set it aside, doing the same with his own, then faced her once more.

In the low light, his brown eyes appeared black as midnight and were filled with such amusement, such affection, it stalled the breath in her lungs. Their faces were so close she wouldn’t have to go far to kiss him. A wisp of a smile curved his mouth as he studied her. His gaze drifted over her hair, forehead, cheeks, chin, mouth, and settled back on her eyes. He seemed to be working something out in his head by the way his eyebrows drew ever so slightly together and his lips parted.

“Now you’re the one being quiet. Are you thinking about our next date or preparing to run for the hills?”

“I don’t run. And this date isn’t over yet.” He brushed his nose against hers. “I’m supposed to take you home and kiss you good night on your porch.”

Her heart pounded so hard she was surprised he couldn’t hear it. “No one would blame you for changing your mind.” By the slight edge filling his eyes, he knew she wasn’t talking about a kiss, but rather the whole idea of dating in general.

He stared at her an eternity and then cupped her cheek. “That’s not going to happen. There’s no changing my fucking mind, Zoe.”

Damn, he could knock her off her feet with one sentence. Every time. Her skin heated and she trembled at the intensity in his expression. Desire colliding with irritation. “Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me.”

A low groan rumbled in his throat. “We’re not on your porch yet.” His gaze dipped to her mouth and back up again. “Honestly, I don’t want to drive you home.”

“Where do you want to take me?”

Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek to hers, and when he spoke, his hot breath fanned her ear. “Everywhere.” His lips caressed her neck. “Every damn where.”

Her head rolled back as a full-body tremor coursed through her. Her core throbbed and her breasts ached and she was panting worse than a Cocker Spaniel at a Bullmastiff convention. Needy whimpers rose in her throat.

His lips grazed her jaw as he shifted to the other side of her neck. “You’re not making this any easier with those sexy little sounds, honey.”

“Sorry.”

His tongue traced over her pulse.

“Okay, not sorry,” she breathed. Swear to God, if he didn’t take her home or right here on the steps, she was going to implode. Threading her fingers through his thick, black hair, she forced him to look at her. “How about a compromise? Your house. We can watch a movie and make out like teenagers on your couch.”

Tension creased his brow. “I want you. But I’m trying really hard to prove I don’t want only one thing from you.”

She held his jaw, his outgrowth scratching her palms. “I know that.”

And damn did she admire the hell out of him for it. But they weren’t taking that ultimate physical step until he was ready and showed her, without a trace of doubt, that he truly was there. It had been four years since Heather died and, due to her illness, five since he’d been intimate. Plus, his wife was the only woman he’d ever been with. Except, the way he was behaving, it seemed like he was putting on the brakes more for Zoe’s benefit.

Biting her lip, she debated what to say next. “You’re nothing like other men, and I’m not asking you this to pressure you. Are you sure? It’s been a long time since—”

“It’s not as if I don’t know what I’m doing, Zoe.” Frustration bit his tone, but damn if there wasn’t doubt in his eyes, making her suspect this all might be a lack of confidence. “I may not have your experience, but I know what I want. I just don’t…” He sighed and pulled out of her grasp, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t want the act of us sleeping together to be a reason for you to believe you’re a rebound. I know what some people are saying and I know how guys have treated you.” He reached up and touched a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “You’re not a catalyst for me to move on and I’m not using you as one.”

God, this man. “I know that, too.”

“Do you?” His penetrating gaze wouldn’t allow her to look away when instinct was telling her to abort. “Understand me, honey. I’m with you because I want to be.” He swallowed and laced their fingers together. “And yes. It’s been a long time.”

She blew out an uneven breath. “For the record, it’s been just about as long for me.” What a pair they made. “My offer stands. We should make out at your house. Slowly work our way back on the saddle or whatever.”

He flashed a grin, exposing the dimple on his left cheek. “How about this? Spend the night with me and we’ll see what happens.” His smile slipped. “The conference in Portland is next weekend.” He looked away, his expression indicating he wanted to say more.

After a silent crackling moment, she understood. He wanted to take the next step with her then, while they were far from everything and everyone they knew, making sex just about them. It made sense his first time with someone else should be away from home. An act rather than a pressure-filled decision.

She squeezed his hand. “Portland.”

His gaze whipped to hers. Held. Emotions filled his eyes, too many to track. Finally, he nodded. Rising, he held out his hand.

An hour later, they were cuddling in his bed watching a violent action movie she couldn’t remember the name of and making fun of the actors. Fully dressed and on top of the covers, they’d done nothing inadvertently sexual, and she was okay with that. This had been the best date ever.

Drake lay on his back, one arm behind his head. His other hand idly played with her hair while she rested her cheek on his chest. Their legs were tangled and she adoringly breathed in his scent of warm male. Comforting and arousing in the same breath.

Gunfire exploded on the screen and his chest vibrated with a chuckle. “I love how the bad guys are standing ten feet away and still can’t hit their target.”

She hummed. “Or how, in a fist fight, they go after the lead one at a time.”

“Why are we watching this again?”

“You picked it. Besides, heckling cinema is my favorite pastime.”

He laughed. “We could put on something else.”

“Naw. I’m good.” Very good. As in, she never wanted to leave this bed. She bit her thumbnail. “Is this awkward for you?”

“What? Us in my bedroom?” His hand stilled over her head. “No. Honestly, all I see in here now is you.”

Crap. She set her chin on his pec and looked at him. “That wasn’t my intention. If you want to redecorate again, we can.”

He glanced around as if considering. “I don’t want to change it. I like having traces of you in here. Besides, I have an original Zoe Hornsby on my walls. The trees are really cool.”

True, but what happened if the blood test came back positive or they didn’t work out? Then she’d be all he’d see in here and that wouldn’t work either. He’d moved on from Heather, but he’d have to redecorate to move on from Zoe. She should’ve just left things alone.

Determined not to upset him, she let it go for now and focused on something else as the credits rolled on his flat screen. “I don’t have anything to sleep in. Or a toothbrush.”

He kissed her forehead and climbed out of bed. Opening a dresser drawer, he rummaged around and pulled out a white tee. He handed it to her and jerked his chin toward the adjoining bathroom. “I think there’s an extra toothbrush in the cabinet. Have at it.”

She stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. After washing her face, she changed into his shirt and checked the vanity. Not seeing a toothbrush, she opened a drawer and froze. A small stack of photos were neatly tucked next to toothpaste and shaving cream.

Grabbing the pictures, she sat on the toilet lid. The first was her and Drake dancing at Cade’s wedding, followed by another of them retreating from the church after the ceremony. She paged through, finding a couple of her playing ball or painting. The last one was a shot of them kissing after the parade. He had to have downloaded it from the internet and printed it.

Hands shaking, she blew out the breath she’d been holding. Why did he have these? And in the bathroom? Had he stashed them quickly when their plans tonight had changed and she’d come over? She wondered if he planned to frame them and…put them in his bedroom.

Or maybe she was just being paranoid. Yes, it was strange, but he’d just redecorated and that could account for misplaced items.

Like photos of her. And him. And no one else.

Screw it. “Drake?”

He opened the door and poked his head in. “Find a toothbrush?”

“Not exactly.” She stood and held up the stack.

Brows furrowed, he stepped deeper into the room and examined the pictures. A smile teased his lips at the last one. “Aunt Rosa gave me these a couple days ago. I had ’em in my pocket and forgot I dumped them in here.” He met her gaze and his smile died after taking in her expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Everything. Damn it. “I just…jumped to conclusions.”

Setting the photos aside, he wrapped his arms around her back. “What kind of conclusions?” When she didn’t answer, he nodded slowly in understanding. “You thought I was going to go psycho boyfriend and put them all over my house?”

“Maybe.”

A grin lit his eyes. “I already have pictures of you downstairs on my mantle. Those are staying, mind you, but the kissy couple ones can wait. Feel better?”

Embarrassed as hell, she dropped her forehead to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled her in for a hug, setting his chin on the top of her head. “I know you feel uncertain, and until you take the test, that feeling isn’t going to go away. No matter what, we’ll go at our pace, Zoe. Not my family’s or our friends’ or what the town deems fit.”

Before she could apologize again, he stepped away and grabbed the pictures. “I am pretty fond of this one.” He held up the shot of them kissing at the parade and gave her an eyebrow waggle.

“Shut up.” Laughing, she smacked his arm.

Sobering, he reached in the drawer and passed her a toothbrush. “I’m going to let the dogs outside. Take your time in here.”

She understood loud and clear. Meaning, take whatever time she needed to get her head in order. He’d wait. He left, and she glanced around in an attempt to calm herself.

The bathroom was massive compared to hers at home and sported white tile floors, sage green in the whirlpool tub and surround, and a his and hers vanity. Glass doors to the corner shower stall were frosted with a leaf pattern. This room, too, had been altered after Heather had died. The first one in the house, done about two years ago.

She took a cleansing breath and brushed her teeth. Drying her mouth, she glanced at herself in the mirror and blinked. She’d grown accustomed to the purple hair color. As she fingered the strands, she realized it was time to dye it again. Not only because the color was fading, but because she was used to it. That was her pattern.

What next? Blue? Red? Green? Or…brown.

She stood, contemplating. They did have that conference next weekend. Going back to her natural brunette color would be more professional and… She sighed. It was time.

Out of a sense of preservation, self pity, and grief, she’d been hiding behind a rainbow of box colors instead of facing facts. Mama wasn’t going to get better, but Zoe could still live her life and do what she loved. Time might be at a minimum, but Drake had been right. She wasn’t alone. If that test did come back positive, she should snag every bit of joy before the worst happened.

A calming sense of relief filled her. She might not have any control over genetics or fate, nor could she promise Drake anything more than right now, but she could take a corner of her life back.

Starting tomorrow, she was going to paint every day, and when Mama got out of rehab, at least two hours a week. She’d also make plans to go to Shooters with the gang once a month instead of every blue moon.

And she’d stop dyeing her hair.