Chapter Twelve

 

After finishing up at the Inn, Ian drove home to shower and change his clothes for his date with Aubrey. Date? Well, he'd like it to be a date, but knew it was wishful thinking on his part.

He arranged for Reece to stay the night with their granddad. He would have the whole evening to be with Aubrey. Granted, the evening could be cut short, depending how Aubrey reacted to what he told her.

Ian's house stood close to the Marina and no more than a ten minute drive to the inn. He purchased the place six months ago for a price he couldn't refuse. The place needed work, but he never shied away from a challenge. The olive-green carpet went first, replaced by natural finished oak floor. Next he'd work on the cabinets in the kitchen. They needed to be refurbished and the flower power wallpaper in the bathrooms needed to go, too. The people who lived here before him bought the house brand new in the late sixties, and as far as he could tell everything, fixtures and all, were original.

He flipped on the light as he entered the bedroom. His Bassett Hound, Morris followed behind him.

A king size bed and a dresser were the only furniture in the room. The French doors situated on the far wall led out to the balcony where he had a magnificent ocean view.

He strode over to the closet and threw open the doors. His clothes lined the wood pole that stretched from one end of the closet to the other. His gaze wavered over the dress shirts, wondering which one didn't look too wrinkled. T-shirt and jeans were usually good enough for him, but not tonight. "Gotta look good, Morris." He glanced down at the hound sitting at his feet.

Morris' tail thudded and he tilted his head.

"I'm looking to impress a girl." His lips spread into a grin as he remembered Aubrey slamming the door in his face. Surprised the hell out of him. Thank God she relented and opened the door again. "I knew her a long time ago. I left her stranded in Ireland." He sighed with a shake of his head. "I know. I was an eegit."

"Rrrr-ruff." Morris obviously agreed.

"She was lovely at nineteen, with freckles and gangly limbs. Now, she's a beautiful woman with curves in all the right places." His hands lifted, making the universal sign of a curvy woman. His gaze landed on Morris again. "Don't judge me, Morris for being that guy. You know, the stereotyped kind of guy checking out a pretty woman. Only Aubrey isn't just any woman."

"Rrrr-ruff"

"She's the first woman I fell in love with—heck, the only one." He dated, but nothing serious ever developed. "None of them were the one." And you think a girl you fell in love with ten years ago is?

He wasn't naïve. A lot had happened in ten years. They both grew up for one, but what he felt for her before couldn't be denied. All he had to do was find out if the spark could be ignited again. He had one shot to make things right between them, and he hoped to God he didn't blow it. She couldn't hate him too much if she'd agreed to go out to dinner with him.

His gaze caught sight of the blue shirt with the clear thin plastic draped over it. He grabbed it, thankful he had it drycleaned and pressed a few weeks ago after he went to his friend's wedding. "So what do you think, Morris?" He held the shirt beneath his chin.

Morris' big droopy eyes stared at him. Then he gave him the low rumbled bark of agreement.

"I swear you understand me, buddy." He leaned down and scratched behind Morris' ears. He rescued Morris from the pound two years ago. He'd been malnourished and scrawny when he'd been brought into the pound. The guy there told him Morris had been abandoned, left in the backyard with no food or water after the owners packed up and left. He couldn't understand how anyone could be so cruel.

Ian headed to the bathroom, glancing at himself in the mirror that hung over the sink. He spent a good part of his days outdoors, but his Irish skin only managed a light tan. The stubble on his chin and cheeks stood out like a dark shadow. He shaved this morning, but he could use another once over. He remembered how Aubrey would say his stubble prickled her skin. "She's not going to let you kiss her as if ten years haven't swept by," he scolded his reflection, but the reprimand didn't stop him from thinking about it anyway. He wondered if she still liked to be nuzzled with small caresses near her ear. The way she would shudder against him with a sweet sigh drove him wild. The way her soft sweet breath felt against his mouth and the way her hands would plunge into his hair, drawing him closer to—

"Sweet Jesus." He drew in a ragged breath. If he kept this reminiscing up, he'd have to add another shower to his list of things to do before he met Aubrey—a cold one. "It's only wishful thinking, anyway." She may have agreed to have dinner with him, but it didn't mean she'd ever forgive him.

"What the hell." His hand reached for the razor on the shelf anyway.