I sniffed the air. “I did not miss that part. I just wanted to be clear on where I stood before I went into the kitchen and devoured them, because there’s a better than good chance I’ll have to forgive you after I do that. And I felt morally obligated to take a stand against your behavior before I forgive and forget.” I pointed one finger at him. “I don’t condone your actions. I’m not going to reward them. And you can’t just do whatever the hell you want, say whatever the hell you want, and then make me cookies and think you can get away with it.” I paused, letting my words sink in. “Sometimes you might have to mix it up with brownies.”
A huge smile spread over Smith’s face. “Duly noted. Now the big question is, do you prefer milk or coffee with your cookies?”
I tilted my head. “It depends. Are they small, crisp cookies or large, gooey ones?”
“Large and gooey.”
“Easy. Milk.”
“Coming right up.”
We sat at the kitchen table with the plate of cookies between us and a glass of milk each.
“You know what I like about you, Reenie?” Smith spoke around a mouthful of cookie. “You have whole milk in your fridge. None of that skim or two-percent crap.” He took a long drink.
“And here I thought it was my sexy body or my scintillating personality.” I bit into a second cookie and closed my eyes. “Oh my God. Smith. I thought you said you couldn’t cook. These are better than sex.”
I heard him chuckle softly. “Oh, baby, I don’t know where to start with what you just said. Let’s start with your sexy body and scintillating personality. The answer to that is, hell, yes. To both. But the milk plays into that, see, because you’re not always starving yourself and pretending to diet. Or really dieting. You look like a real woman, not a stick figure. And yeah, you make me laugh more than anyone I know.”
I took another bite and just stared at him, almost afraid of what he’d say next.
“And I can’t cook, but I can bake. My mom is an excellent baker. She used to make all her own tea-time stuff that ladies like when she had parties. She taught me how to do it. But as for my cookies being better than sex, honey, if you think that, you’re doing it all wrong.”
My mouth went dry, and when I set the last bit of cookie back on my napkin, my fingers were trembling. I tried to take a deep breath, but my lungs weren’t exactly working, it seemed.
“Which reminds me. Did the famous Tim kiss you good night?”
I dropped my eyes to the table. “Do you think that’s any of your business, Smith?”
“Probably not, but I’m asking anyway. Call it my right as your cookie supplier.”
I huffed out a short laugh, but Smith didn’t even smile. His eyes were fastened on my face, as though my answer really mattered to him.
“He did. Sort of. I mean, just a light . . . kiss. Not even. He barely touched me.”
“Ah.” Smith nodded. “I guess that was one way to go. A man kisses a woman like that, it means one of two things. Either he isn’t really into her and just wants to be kind to end the evening, or he does want her, but he’s taking it slow. Building up. Setting the stage for when he gets serious.”
“Really.” I meant for my voice to sound amused, but it came out as almost a whisper. “And suddenly you’re the expert in how and why people kiss?”
“Oh, I’ve definitely got some expertise there. And in this case, judging by how he looked at you when he was here, I’d say it’s more likely the second. He thinks he’s got time to pull you in. Next time, next date, he’ll step it up. A little more of a kiss. Maybe a little tongue. Maybe not.”
I pressed my lips together, as though I were denying Tim access. “You said it was one way to go. You would’ve gone another?”
“Oh, yeah. I get patience. I understand a man who can practice it. But that wouldn’t be me. I figure, if I can hold off on kissing a woman and it doesn’t matter to me that much, or if I can handle just giving her a bland, meaningless kiss, she must not matter than much to me. There’s no spark.”
My eyes widened. “Spark?”
A smile spread slowly over Smith’s face. “You know. The spark. The thing that makes your heart beat a little faster when you see the other person. Makes it hard to breathe for a few minutes when she smiles. And when you make her laugh, you feel like you’d give anything in the world to do it again.” He lifted his hands. “You literally itch to touch her. You look at her skin, her hair, her body, and you think, if I have to go another moment without putting my hands on her, I might die. And when you do finally kiss her, it feels like you never want to stop.”
I was mesmerized, a hot mess of electrified nerve endings and yearning pulse points. If Smith so much as moved toward me, I was certain I’d jump him. Knock him onto the kitchen floor and . . . well, I was pretty sure what would come next would be strictly NC-17.
“If it had been me in that car with you, I’d have started out slow, probably. I’d have taken that route. But I wouldn’t have stopped there. After I’d brushed a kiss on your lips, I would have pulled back, stared into your eyes for the space of a few heartbeats, and then I would have leaned forward and taken your mouth again. But this time, there would be nothing gentle about it. I’d have opened your mouth, used my tongue to stroke the inside of your lips, all the time holding your face in my hands. Your tongue would begin to tangle with mine, both teasing and thrusting, and I’d lower one hand to press against your back, so that your . . . chest was plastered into my body. I’d spend an endless amount of time learning every part of your mouth, and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. When we finally broke apart, because we had to breathe or die, it would be like we’d never touched before and we’d be on fire for the next kiss, just by looking at each other.”
For several intense moments, there was silence, only the faintest sound of my rapid breathing breaking the spell Smith had cast over me. Then he pushed back his chair and stood up. I thought he was coming for me. I hoped he was. I wanted him, and more than that, I needed him.
But he walked past me, opening the door to his apartment and disappearing through it before he closed it softly behind him.
I didn’t move from the table for a long time.
MAUREEN WAS GONE BY THE time I got up the next morning. She was covering Saturday morning hours, since I was taking our on-call for the weekend. I went downstairs, nabbed two cookies from the plate still sitting in the middle of the table, and helped myself to a glass of her milk, since I hadn’t bothered to buy any perishables for my own kitchen yet.
I propped my back against the counter as I ate, staring at the table and thinking about last night. I hadn’t meant to go that far. Honestly, the cookies were a peace offering because I knew I’d pushed too much with Tim the dweeb, and I wanted to show her I was sorry. It was important to me that in my quest to win her heart, I didn’t lose sight of my friendship with Maureen, and I had a little, when Tim had come to pick her up.
But then she’d been so quick to forgive, so clearly smitten with my cookies—and who could blame her, I made a hell of a chocolate chip cookie—and we’d somehow gotten on the topic of kissing. The next thing I knew, I was giving voice to one of the fantasies I’d been harboring for the last decade.
Watching her as I spoke had been . . . God. It had been a seduction itself. Her eyes had gone soft and warm, her face was that perfect pink that I absolutely loved, and her lips . . . I wondered if she’d realized that she’d run her tongue over her lips as I talked, or that they fell slightly apart. The rise and fall of her chest under the silky black shirt she wore was enticing. I could just see the swell of cleavage, and if I’d gone on talking, I might’ve mentioned licking that tempting valley between her perfect breasts.
I was so hard by the time I’d gone silent that I wasn’t sure I could make it upstairs. And part of my brain, a part that grew louder with each heartbeat, asked why in the hell I’d go upstairs when Maureen sat in front of me. I knew, knew it on a soul level, that if I’d knelt in
front of her chair and pulled her face to mine, we’d have ended up in her bed. Or maybe even just on the kitchen floor, although it was a cold linoleum and probably pretty uncomfortable.
But I couldn’t do it. Sex couldn’t come that way, not before I’d talked to her, told her how I’d felt for too many years and made her admit that she felt the same. So no matter how much I wanted her—and dammit, I did want her, more than I could remember wanting anything or anyone before in my life—I had to rein it in. Be cool. Which meant getting the hell upstairs before it was too late.
I puttered around the house most of the day, finishing up my unpacking and organizing a few last things in the apartment. It felt like home, I realized as I looked around. It felt right. I had a feeling Maureen living downstairs was a big part of it feeling so right, but that was okay. The brave and optimistic half of my brain could see us making this our home for the long-term, making what was now my apartment part of the main house again. Maybe kids’ bedrooms up here, along with an office for both Reenie and me. It felt so possible that I could see it: raising babies on this land, working with one another, coming home together, making love every night in her big bed downstairs and building a family here in this house that had seen so many generations before us.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I grinned when I saw my brother’s name. “Hey, Fox! To what do I owe this tremendous honor? Is Boston still standing?”
“Shut up, loser.” That was what passed for brotherly love, and I laughed.
“Okay. How’re you doing? Everything good?”
“Yeah, same old. How about you? Bored out of your mind in Podunk yet?”
“It’s only been a few weeks, Fox. I just finished unpacking. But no, so far I love it. The practice is challenging but good. The apartment is perfect for me. And this town is pretty damn amazing. I can’t wait for you and the family to come see me.”
“Ana says we’re coming the week between Christmas and New Year’s, so get ready. She wanted me to ask you if there was a decent hotel in town. She couldn’t find anything with a recognizable name closer than Savannah.”
“No hotels, I don’t think, but we’ve got room for you here. It’d be more fun, anyway.”
“I’ll let her know.” He was quiet for a second. “It’s really okay down there, Smith? You’re not just shitting me because you’re afraid I’ll give you a hard time?”
I laughed. “I’m not shitting you. It’s really okay. More than, actually. I was just standing here looking around, thinking it feels right.”
“Uh huh. And how’s Maureen?”
“She’s good. We’re getting along well, and the partnership is a win so far, too. They’ve got terrific facilities and a receptionist who pretty much runs the show. No complaints.”
“Have you told her you’re in love with her yet?”
“What now?” I nearly dropped the phone. “What did you just say?”
“Isn’t that really why you moved down there? Because you’re still pining away for the girl you never had the balls to ‘fess up to back in college?”
“Why the hell would you think that?” I’d never shared with Fox or my parents any inkling of my feelings toward Maureen.
“Oh, come on, little brother. How blind do you think I am? You always had that look in your eyes when you said her name, and you just had a new spring in your steps once you made the decision to move to Georgia—”
“Ana told you, didn’t she?” My sister-in-law was a very perceptive woman, and I could see her noticing small changes in me.
“Yeah.” He admitted it readily, laughing. “After you left, she told me what she suspected. And it made sense. I started to think about when I visited you down at school, and how you used to act around her. It all added up.” He paused for a minute. “Is that why you and Felicia ended things?”
“It was part of it.” There was no sense in not being honest about it now. “Felicia told me she suspected there was someone I was in love with, but it wasn’t her. But that was only part of it.”
“I get it.” Fox sighed. “Love’s a fucked-up thing, isn’t it? You can convince yourself that one person’s right for you, when all along there’s someone else.”
I felt a sense of unease. “Fox, you’re not talking about you and Ana, are you? Everything okay with you two?”
“God, no, Smith. Everything’s good with us.” I could hear in his voice that he was being straight with me. My brother might have had many faults, but I’d never doubted his commitment to Ana. “I was thinking about before we got married, when Mom and Dad were pushing me not to stay with her. And how glad I am that I didn’t listen.”
“Me, too. I can’t imagine what you’d be like if you didn’t have her. Even more of a prick than you are, I guess.”
“You’re not wrong.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice. “So you didn’t answer my question. Did you tell Maureen how you feel?”
“Not yet. Not quite yet.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s a little complicated, but don’t worry. A plan’s afoot. And if I haven’t told her by the time you get here, you and Ana have my permission to smack me and then tell Maureen yourselves. Deal?”
“It’s on, little brother. Okay, I gotta run. The kids are waiting for me to take them to swim at the parentals’ house, and Mom just beeped through on call waiting. She’s probably chomping at the bit for me to get there. Talk later?”
“You know it.” I pictured my brother, standing out on his patio talking to me while Mila and Jason clamored to get going. I wasn’t homesick at all, but I did miss those kids and Ana. And even my brother and my parents. “Give Ana and the little ones kisses from me, and tell Mom and Dad I said hey. I’ll try to call them tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll pass on the message. Take care.”
“Will do. And Fox? Thanks for calling. I’m really glad you did.”
He was quiet a minute. “Me, too, Smith.” And then I heard the click ending the call. My brother wasn’t one for long drawn-out goodbyes.
Now that the apartment was in order, I was itching to get out and cruise around the area a little. For the past week, I’d only gone from the house to the office and back again, with the exception of the night we’d gone to Meghan and Sam’s house. I wanted to get a better feel for the town and the surrounding farmland, particularly since I might be called out at any time to one of the farms or outlying homes.
I fired up the ‘Vette and hit the open road, using my GPS to keep me oriented. The town of Burton itself was busy, as I’d expected on a Saturday afternoon. I cruised past Kenny’s Diner, the elementary school where I figured both Meghan Reynolds and the infamous Tim Clark worked and down the main drag, which featured several shops and other businesses. When I followed that road out of the town proper, I noted several farms with horses or cows, all of whom would be clients of ours, I suspected. As Maureen always said, when it came to vets, we were the only game in town.
A few minutes later, a huge building rose out of the fields. It was surrounded by a large parking lot, and neon letters on the roof proclaimed its name. Aha, this was the Road Block, Mason’s place. I considered turning in and taking him up on his offer of a beer, but I decided against it. I wasn’t ready to stop driving yet, and having a beer this early in the afternoon when I wasn’t with a group of guys at a football game or a party felt pathetic.
I’d circled around for another five miles when I spotted the same farm stand I’d seen on my first day in Burton, on my way to Maureen’s house. A few cars were parked in the small gravel lot, and on impulse, I pulled in, thinking I could bring home some fresh vegetables to stock my fridge.
“Smith Harrington. What’re you doing out and about on this beautiful day?” Meghan Reynolds stood with her hands on her hips as I climbed out of my car. “And my God, I love your car. Seriously love it. What year is it? ’66?”
“You’ve got a good eye. It’s a ’65. And thanks.”
“Did you restore it yourself?”
; “Every last piece of rust and every single bolt. My blood, sweat and tears are in that baby.”
“Well, it was worth it, because she shines.” Meghan tore her eyes away from my car. “So what can I do for you? We’ve got some peaches in, just picked this morning, and if you need tomatoes, you’ve come to the right place. They’re coming out of my ears right now.”
I laughed. “I’ll take some of them off your hands, for sure. I have to admit, I had no idea this was your place. I thought you were an art teacher.”
Maureen smiled. “I am. The farm stand gig came to me by marriage. This is Sam and Ali’s farm, and the stand’s been running for generations. I don’t usually work here, but I’m covering for Ali today, because she didn’t feel well. And Sam’s in the fields, of course.”
“Gotcha. Well, show me what you’re selling. I’m a sucker for produce, so it’s your lucky day.”
Meghan gave me a guided tour around the small stand, and I had to admit that I was impressed. In addition to their own fruit and vegetables, they stocked locally-made jams and other delicacies as well as gift baskets that featured all those items.
Once I’d filled a hand basket to near-overflowing, Meghan carried it to the check-out table. But instead of ringing me up, she cocked her head. “So tell me, how’s everything going with Reenie? I know she went out with Tim last night. What happened?”
I hesitated. “She did go out with him. I think they had a good time. I, uh, I might’ve been a little bit of a jerk before they left, so I made her cookies to apologize.”
If I’d expected Meghan to be mad at me for the jerk part, I’d underestimated her. She only nodded. “Making cookies is always a good way to say you’re sorry. And did it work?”
“Yeah, better than it should have, probably.” I thought again of her face at the kitchen table. “She was very gracious. Of course, my cookies are damn good.”
“I guess I’d have to be the judge of that, and I’m always willing to be a test taster. Keep that in mind. Have you been doing what I suggested? Courting her? Wooing her? Showing her that you love her?”
Always For You (Always Love Book 1) Page 10
