I smile and shake my head. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”
He shrugs. “I have my moments.”
I head to the kitchen to grab the bag full of goodies I packed while he hoists my bags up on his shoulders.
“You ready?”
“Yep. Let’s hit the road.”
“You still nervous?”
“Only a little bit. I’m more excited now than anything—just about dinner though, not meeting your parents.”
We exit my apartment and I make sure to double-check I’ve locked the door. Zach throws my bags inside his trunk and I notice there are two bags in there for him.
“And you judged me for having two bags.”
“What? Oh, no. Only one of those is mine.”
I look at him, confused.
“The other one is for Marshmallow.”
“Our goat has his own suitcase?”
Zach’s smile lights up his face and he’s staring at me like I’m the greatest person alive.
“What?” I ask.
“You said our goat.” His smile widens, if that’s even possible. “I love that you said our goat.”
I shove at him. “Stop it. You’re making this weird.”
I turn to make my way to the passenger’s side but he grabs my hand and pulls me against his chest. With one hand, he tips my chin up, and he drops his lips to mine.
He kisses me until I’m breathless, and right there in the parking lot of my apartment complex, I want to give myself over to him.
Completely.
I stare up at the large brick house. There’s a big window showing off the landing on the staircase, and a beautiful chandelier-type light hangs in perfect view.
“Swanky.”
Zach peers up at the house with me. “It’s not bad.”
“Not bad? I could fit my childhood home inside your living room.”
“I didn’t grow up here, if that makes you feel any better. We lived in a small, quaint house most of my life. It wasn’t until I was almost out of college that they bought this place. Saved for it for years.”
“Well it’s stunning. I can’t wait to see the inside.”
“Come on then.”
We climb out of the car, stretching our limbs after the long ride. Zach grabs our bags from the trunk and I pull Marshmallow’s cage from the back seat.
Zach pushes the front door open and hollers, “We brought the goat!”
I hear pounding footsteps approaching from my right, coming from what I assume is the kitchen.
A beautiful blonde woman comes barreling into the entryway, arms outstretched. There’s white powder—flour I think—stuck to the side of her face, and she’s wearing a navy apron over what appears to be pajamas with green ducks on them.
“My sweet baby! Grandma can’t wait to snuggle you close.”
She bends over and pokes into the cage I’m holding, smiling and giggling like a little kid.
Straightening up, she holds her hand out to me. “Delia, I have heard so much about you. I’m Rose. It’s great to finally meet you.”
I shake her hand. “It’s great to meet you too, Mrs. Hastings.” I peek up at Zach, who is smiling down at me. “So you told your mom about me?”
He shrugs. “I might have mentioned your name a few times.”
“A few?” Rose says. “Please, this boy won’t shut up about the ‘wrong number girl’.”
“Is that what you call me?”
“I did at first,” he admits. “Now you’re just Pain in the Ass.”
“Zach Hastings!” his mother scolds. “Manners!”
“My bad.” He turns his head and mouths, Not.
His mother whacks him in the arm. “I saw that, you little shit. Now come on inside. Your brother should be here shortly. I’m working on the pies now.”
“Do you need any help, Mrs. Hastings?” I offer.
“Oh, please, call me Rose. No need to be so formal. And no, I have everything under control. You two go relax, explore the house. I’m sure my husband is around here somewhere.”
She scurries off to the kitchen, leaving us standing in the entryway.
“Well, I guess we’re on our own for a bit. Want to see our room?”
“Lead the way.”
We grab our bags and head up the stairs, Marshmallow in tow. Zach leads us over the landing I saw through the window and I pause to catch a glimpse of the outside.
The view from the landing is gorgeous. Their yard is massive and beyond that is a line of trees, brown and orange, the colors of fall. It’s like something straight out of a painting.
“I think I love it here.”
“Beautiful, huh?”
I nod and he grabs my hand, tugging me up the rest of the stairs. We turn off at the first door on the right.
“This is us. I don’t have my own room, so we’re staying in the guest room.”
There’s a massive bed in the center of the room with a lilac comforter across it. An older, worn dresser sits off to the side and a few paintings of flowers hang on the walls.
“Did you pick the comforter?”
He slides his eyes my way in warning as he lets Marshmallow out of his cage. “Don’t even start.”
“So you love lilac, huh?”
“Delia…”
“It’s such a hot color, Zach.”
He stalks toward me and I retreat until the bed hits the backs of my knees. He’s right in front of me, that devilish grin of his plastered across his lips. He gently lays a hand on my chest and pushes me back.
I land on the bed and he crawls on top of me.
“You’re a shit starter, Delia.”
“And you fall for my bait every single time.”
“If you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask.”
“Kiss me, Zach.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s fulfilling my request. His lips are gentle and unhurried. Then they aren’t, now hard and fast, his tongue sliding against mine as his hips begin to rock into me.
I use my hands to explore him, running my fingers through his hair and down his broad shoulders. I push my way under his shirt, lightly raking my nails down his back. His hand disappears under my shirt, fingertips ghosting along my skin until he has a handful of boob.
His fingers play at my nipple and I let out a soft moan. My hands push at his shorts until his erection springs free. I wrap my hand around his length, stroking him until I have him panting in my ear, knowing he’s right on the edge of release.
He springs up, his mouth set in a grim line, glaring at the foot of the bed where Marshmallow sits, staring at us both.
I snicker as Zach mutters and pulls his shorts back up.
“He touched my ass cheek, Delia. Your hand was on my dick and he touched my fucking ass cheek.”
I shake with laughter, tears running down my cheeks as I watch Zach stand there and glare at an innocent baby goat.
“Stop laughing! This isn’t funny!”
“Oh, Zach, that’s where you are dead wrong. It’s hilarious!”
Huffing and puffing, he storms out of the bedroom, flinging the door shut behind him. I continue to lie there on the bed, laughing.
A few seconds later, he’s barging back into the room.
“I have a boner. I can’t be out in the hallway with a boner in my parents’ house. That’s just wrong.”
“How do you still have a boner?”
“Because I was about to come all over you, Delia! That’s how! You can’t be like, ‘Boner be gone!’ and it just goes away. That’s not how dicks work—they don’t deflate on command.” He throws his hands up in the air and begins pacing the short length of the room.
I can’t help but laugh again, truly amused by how worked up he is.
“You done?” I ask, rising up on my knees and beckoning him my way.
He makes his way over to me, his bottom lip sticking out. “Maybe, but I think I’m traumatized.”
“I’m s
ure you are. Now, why don’t you give me a tour of the rest of the house? Will that distract you from your trauma?”
He shuffles his feet. “It’s worth a shot.”
I roll my eyes, climbing off the bed and taking him by the hand. “Come on, you big baby.”
He scoops Marshmallow up and deposits him in his cage, glaring at him the entire time.
We exit the room and Zach leads me downstairs.
“The rest of the upper level is bedrooms, and I am not showing you the room where my parents have sex.”
“Zach!”
“What? I’m just saying”—he shudders—“hard pass for me.”
We round the bottom of the stairs and hook a left.
“This is the living room. We don’t use it.”
“We do too use it!” Rose calls from the kitchen.
Zach eyes me and shakes his head in the negative. “It’s all for show.”
“There are no pictures on the wall. I figured there’d be photos of you and your brother.”
“No one wants his ugly mug on their wall.”
“Zach…”
“Fine. We don’t do pictures around here. I know homes are typically full of them, but my family is big on the ‘no posed moments’ thing. Every now and then we’ll snap a candid shot, but we tend to live in the moment most of the time.”
“I think…I think I kind of like that. It’s sweet, but what happens if one of you…”
“Passes?”
I nod. “Don’t you want that keepsake?”
Zach shrugs. “I guess? I have two photos of my mother, plus my memories. It doesn’t sound like much, but I cherish them more than anything. It kind of forces me to keep her in my heart, keep her in my mind so I don’t forget, you know?”
“You’re going to make me sad, and I don’t want to be sad.”
“I’m sorry. Let’s keep going. I’ll show you our real living room. Maybe my dad’s back there and you can meet him.”
We travel through the next room, the dining area. Rose has the table already set and I have to chuckle at her arrangement.
“I think I really like your mom. She uses paper plates instead of fancy dishware on Thanksgiving—less to clean up. Smart lady.”
“She likes to keep it real. By the way, she’ll be eating dinner in those pajamas she’s cooking in. That’s why I’m in basketball shorts. I bet you ten bucks my dad is in sweats.” He eyes my outfit of skinny jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a black cardigan. “You’re way overdressed.”
“I’ll have to remember to change before dinner then.”
“Probably a good idea. We kind of do this thing where we try to eat all the food and not leave any leftovers—like, at all.”
“Are you telling me I can eat to my heart’s content and not have to feel embarrassed about loading my plate over and over again?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“I love this family.”
He snorts and pulls me through the closed double doors.
Sitting inside what I assume is their “real” living room is his father, and he shoots off the couch the moment we walk in.
I was right—Zach’s dad is a total hottie.
I elbow Zach and quietly say, “Told ya he was smokin’.”
“Stop. It.”
“Zach, my boy, come here.”
His dad folds him into a big hug, the two holding on to each other for a moment. I won’t lie, my heart does a little flippy thing watching them together.
They pull apart and Mr. Hastings turns my way.
“Delia, it’s lovely to finally meet you.”
“Likewise, Mr. Hastings.”
“No, no, Jack is fine.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re Jack, and…”
“She’s Rose.” He grins, and he has the same dimple his son does. “Yeah. It’s kind of a funny story.”
“Not this again. He loves it when people connect the dots,” Rose hollers from the kitchen.
“What, babe? It’s a good story!”
Rose appears in the doorway and leans up against it, eyeing her husband. “Go ahead—I know you’re dying to.”
“So,” Jack starts, “we met in grief counseling.”
“That, uh, sounds…”
“Utterly heartbreaking?” Rose offers. “I know, sweetie.”
“So there I was, sitting in the chair my parents forced me into. I was a young twenty-something widower and couldn’t even haul my ass into the shower more than once a week. I needed therapy, so my family stepped in.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I mutter. “Both of your losses.”
Rose holds her hand to her heart and Jack nods, acknowledging my sentiment.
“It was my third week, her first day. As usual, we had to go around the room and introduce ourselves, explain why we were there. I stood in front of the mic and—”
“He said, ‘I’m Jack. I’m here because I smell like ass and my family is sick of my shit. My wife’s dead and so am I. That’s all I have.’”
My heart crumbles at the words, but I listen with rapt attention as Jack picks the story back up.
“I take a seat and we go through a few more introductions. I’m barely hanging on to reality and can’t pay a lick of attention. Then she”—he nods his head toward Rose—“saunters up there, and all hell breaks loose.”
“Stop it. It wasn’t that awful.”
“You snotted all over the podium, and me. It was horrific.”
“Well if you hadn’t—”
“Shh! You’ll ruin the best part. Anyway, she’s up there and says, ‘My name is Rose.’” A shit-eating grin breaks out across his face. “And I yell, ‘There was room on that board!’”
“And I burst into tears.”
“Snot is flying everywhere and she rushes off the stage and out the door. I jump to my feet and race after her to find her sitting in the middle of the parking lot, sobbing into the quiet night. So, I wrap my arm around her and let her wipe her boogers all over me.”
Rose huffs. “It wasn’t that bad!”
“Right, babe. Sure. Once I have her settled down, I ask her if she wants to go out and grab an ice cream with me. She holds my stare and says, ‘There was no way I was sharing that chunk of door with a jackass like you.’”
“And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“You jump,” Jack says.
“I jump,” Rose finishes.
They stand there smiling at one another like fools, love shining so bright in their eyes. It’s the most romantic moment I have ever witnessed.
“I think I’m going to puke,” Zach says.
“I think I’m going to cry. That is the saddest, sweetest story I have ever heard.”
Jack slaps his knee. “Enough of the boo-hooin’. Tell me about you, Delia. You’re a student, yes?”
“I am. I’m in my senior year, journalism major.”
“And how’s that panning out for you? Any leads for when you graduate?”
I slide my eyes Zach’s way. “There may be something I’m interested in.”
“Do you have any siblings?” Jack asks.
“One, an older brother. He’s a teacher on the other side of town, where I live.”
“What does he teach?”
“Middle school math. He loves it.”
“I used to want to be a teacher,” Zach says.
“Really?”
He nods. “I would have had so much fun giving those turds homework.”
“I bet you’d have all the girls fawning over you with those sexy glasses of yours.” I slap my hand over my mouth, my eyes shooting to Jack. “Oh crap. Sorry,” I mutter.
Jack laughs. “Please, honey, he gets his looks from me, and I ain’t no troll.”
“Ain’t no troll my ass,” Rose murmurs before turning away and heading back into the kitchen.
Her husband leaps off the couch, following her and arguing the whole way about how “handsome and sexy” he still
is.
Zach’s grinning from ear to ear, proud of his papa. “And you said I was bad.”
“You’re way worse than that, trust me. Now, how about leading me through those double doors and out to that patio I’m spying. I want to swing on that loveseat thingy.”
We make our way outside to do just that, snuggling up next to one another and enjoying the moment.
“It’s so peaceful out here, so different than where we live.”
“Would you ever want to live in the middle of nowhere?” Zach asks.
“Hmm…probably not. I’d miss delivery too much.”
He chuckles. “Figures.”
I pinch his nipple and he yelps. “You think you’re so smart, huh?”
“I know you, is all.”
“Oh, do you now?” I sit up, eyeing him. “What’s my favorite color?”
“Teal.”
“Did my room give that away?” He nods. “What’s my favorite food?”
“All of it.”
“HA! You’re wrong! It’s brownies.”
“Is it really?”
“Yes. Well…most days.”
“Cheater.”
I shrug. “You know superficial things about me. Name something else.”
“You’re a really good kisser.”
“This is true.”
“You like to be the one to get the last word in.”
“Hm. Okay, okay, keep going.”
“You blush…often. You do this thing when you’re trying to fall asleep where you twitch—scared the shit out of me the first time you did it, by the way. You raise your left eyebrow when you’re concentrating really hard on something, and though you don’t talk about it often, you’re scared of the future, worried you picked the wrong major.”
I blink a few times, sitting there staring at him like I don’t know who he is.
But he knows who I am. He knows me, and my heart is soaring right now. I can feel it; it’s awakening, telling me I could love him, that he could be the one.
Zach leans in. “See, Delia, I know you.”
I nod, my throat full of emotion. I’m scared that if I try to speak right away, the tears I’m barely holding back will flow.
And that shit will only freak him out.
“I know you too, Zach.”
“You do?”
“Oh yeah. You have this smile that lights up your face and a whole different one, a naughtier one that lets your dimple poke through.” I give him a suggestive grin. “That one is my favorite. You also like to have the last word—guess we’re screwed there. You tend to tip the corner of your mouth up when you’re amused, and even though you act cocky, you’re secretly worried everyone will judge you for your nerdiness.”
Texting Box Set: The Complete Series Page 16
