Love Unforgettable: Love in San Soloman - Book Three

by Wells, Denise

“Well, that’s it. I mean, if you were him, would your actions be trustworthy?”

  “Pinkie, the man pretty much saved my life, I’d owe him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Okay, except that you’re not me in this scenario, you’re him.”

  “Okay.”

  “So?” I ask.

  “So . . . are you saying I didn’t answer correctly?” he asks. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this. Remi is much better than I am.”

  “She doesn’t want my advice,” Remi says, taking another bite from her taco and swinging her legs lightly under the table.

  “You don’t?” Chance clarifies. I shake my head.

  “Well,” he says. “What does your gut tell you?”

  “I hate that question.”

  “Okay.” He grabs his other container of food and opens it and eats a few bites. “So, I’m Trevor and the question is, ‘am I trustworthy’?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, no. Probably not.”

  His answer hits me like a lead ball straight to the stomach. I set my food aside, no longer able to eat.

  “Why?” I squeak. I clear my throat and try again. “Why?”

  He takes another bite, then swallows before answering. “It’s a basic tenet of human relationships. Anytime you are questioning the integrity of the other person in the relationship with you, there’s a reason for it. The reason why you ask other people about it is because you don’t trust that your feelings of mistrust are valid. But they always are. It’s just your mind trying to fight it because you want it to be different.”

  I’m floored.

  I look at Remi, I know my mouth is hanging open and I don’t really care. She just nods at me in agreement. It’s not so much that I thought Chance wasn’t capable of such deep and pragmatic thought, or else that’s exactly it. But also, I think he’s just summed up why I’ve made every mistake I’ve ever made in a relationship.

  “So, he’s going to leave me again?” I ask Chance.

  “I can’t tell you that for certain. All I can say is you are right to listen to that nagging part of you that is questioning him right now.”

  “Now I’m sad.”

  “Oh, Pinkie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad,” Chance rushes to say.

  “It’s okay. You didn’t make me sad. The situation makes me sad and there’s nothing I can do about that.” I look to Remi, feeling pathetic. The look she returns is equally pathetic.

  “Can I still give him the benefit of the doubt?” I ask to no one in particular.

  “Honey, you can do whatever you want,” Remi says coming over to give me a hug.

  “I’m gonna go now, if that’s okay.”

  “Call me if you need anything?” Remi confirms. I nod in agreement.

  “I am sorry, Pinkie,” Chance says. “Dinner was amazing, thank you.” I smile at him.

  “Hey,” Remi calls as I’m about to shut the door. I turn back and look at her. “He gets out of here tomorrow, so we’ll be at my house.” I dip my chin in acknowledgment, then leave to go clear my neighborhood grocery store out of ice cream and junk food. After which I will go home and cuddle with all seven of my dogs at once. Hands down, the best, most fool-proof cheer-up plan known to man.

  Chapter 16

  Cole

  If you were to ask me whether I was deliberately following Lexie right now to what I think is the supermarket, I would categorically deny it. But she’s heading to that side of town, so I’m hoping my guess is correct and once inside I can casually rub my cart up against hers.

  Now, before you go getting the wrong idea, I’m not stalking her or anything. I happened to be at a stoplight about to turn left in one direction, when I saw her catty-corner to me about to turn left in another direction. One quick U-turn on my part, and we’re in business.

  I park a few spots away from her and wait until she’s entered the store before I go in. I can’t just go following her in the store, that’ll look like I’ve planned the whole thing. My strategy is to casually bump into her in the aisle and act surprised.

  She may be my first lightning bolt, but this ain’t my first rodeo.

  I start at the far end of the store, figuring I’ll wind my way up and down each aisle until I see her. But by the time I reach the middle of the store, with nary a hide nor hair of her, I start to panic. I pick up the pace, round the next corner at a near jog, and sure enough, there she is. I slow way down, which now feels about like shoveling salt with a toothpick in comparison.

  “Well, hey, neighbor,” I say.

  Lame, Cole. Really lame.

  She looks up in surprise, “Hey, Cole. Hi. Wow. How are you?”

  “Doin’ right good, especially now that I’m seein’ your gorgeous face.”

  She blushes slightly and looks down. I’m a little addicted to the blushing, not ashamed to admit it.

  “Whatcha getting?” I lean over so I can see in her cart.

  Ice cream, Pop-Tarts, tortilla chips, Coke, cookies, cheese in a jar . . .

  No wonder she’s so little, she eats like crap.

  Frozen pizza, candy, and tampons.

  Well, that explains all the crap.

  “Oh, I . . . um. Gosh. This is embarrassing,” she stammers and gestures to the cart.

  “No need. I got sisters.”

  She looks relieved. “Oh, well, good . . . I guess. So, uh, what are you getting?” She leans over to glance in my still empty cart.

  “I, uh, I’m not familiar with this store yet, still trying to get my bearings with the layout and such.”

  Good recovery. Keep it going.

  “That’s not your dinner, is it?” I ask.

  “No, not really. It’s more of an eating my feelings sort of thing.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Or at least it will be.” She smiles weakly.

  “Why don’t I make you dinner?” I propose.

  “Tonight?” Her voice squeaks a little bit when she asks.

  “Yeah, sure, tonight. That’d be just great.”

  Way to go, Cole!

  “Uh, well, I kind of already ate, but I didn’t really finish it all. I’m not hungry, but if I go home, I’ll eat all of this.”

  “Please let me save your digestive system from all of that,” I say with a grin.

  “Yeah, um, okay. Sure. What time?”

  “How ‘bout you give me an hour or so to get my groceries and get home and prepped.”

  “Sounds good, I’ll see you in about an hour.” She turns her cart around and walks away from me. I take a minute to watch her walk and then notice that I’ve sighed. Like a little girl.

  Jesus, Cole. One little lightning bolt and you are falling to pieces.

  “Maybe so, but I reckon it takes a real man to admit that to himself,” I mutter aloud then set about gathering the essentials for what I’m hoping will be a fabulous meal.

  * * *

  The doorbell rings, it’s been a little over an hour since I last saw Lexie.

  Perfect timing.

  I wipe my hands on a towel and walk through the main room to answer the door.

  “Wow, sweetness,” I tell her. “You are . . . I have no words. You look beautiful.” She’s changed into a shirt that falls off her shoulder on one side, and a different pair of jeans that I’m betting make her ass look all kinds of delicious, with a big buckle belt, and some kind of complicated strappy sandal on her feet.

  I approve.

  I lean in to kiss her on the cheek and get a whiff of her perfume. Or else it’s just her natural smell. She smells sweeter than vanilla ice cream on cherry pie.

  “You look pretty good, yourself,” she replies with a smile.

  I’d changed into a fresh button-down shirt, but hadn’t had time to tuck it in, and I’d just rolled up the sleeves. Plus, I’m still barefoot.

  She follows me down the entryway and through the great room into the large kitchen.

  “It smells amazing in here,” she says. “W
hat is that?”

  “That, little lady, is my specialty. However, this is the best I got, so when we have dinner again I’ll have to take you out, so we aren’t eating the same thing twice in a row.” I wink at her. She smiles big back.

  “I thought you said you cooked best for two,” she reminds me.

  “Well, I gotta admit, I didn’t think you’d remember that.” I try to look chagrined, but inside I’m just tickled pink that she remembered something I’d said at the Mexican restaurant. “To answer your question from before, I’ll be serving a mesquite grilled flank steak, roasted rosemary potatoes, grilled asparagus, garlic bread, and a garden salad.”

  “You did all that in that last hour?”

  “I did. Do you think I’m amazin’?”

  “I do,” she laughs. “What can I do to help.” I walk around the large center island and get back to where I was prepping veggies.

  “You can sit your pretty little bottom down and enjoy a pre-dinner beverage, I’ll be throwing the steaks on the grill soon, and we’ll eat shortly after that.” She takes a seat on the other side of the kitchen island, allowing me to look at her unabashedly, seeing as she’s right in my line of vision.

  “I didn’t think I was that hungry, but smelling this, I’m famished,” she says.

  “I hope it lives up to your expectations then.”

  “This place is amazing. I’ve not been here much, really if at all. Most of my time has always been spent at work, in the downtown tasting room, so having everything now within walking distance of my home is different.”

  “That your place I saw closing shop downtown? Love-something?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yep. Lovestone. It’s bittersweet. We are opening a much nicer and larger tasting room and shop on property. Bubbe, sorry, Mavis and I just did some remodeling and building. And everything is beyond my wildest dreams. It’s also more in line with what is expected of a ‘winery.’” She uses air quotes for the word winery, but I’m fairly certain I know what she means. “The little downtown location I built-up on my own,” she continues. “A lot of blood, sweat, and tears. So, it’s hard to leave it. Plus, it was close to the water and to both Kat and Remi’s houses. Out here is a bit more remote, and more removed.” She gets up and walks around the great room with her wine glass, looking at everything.

  “I can see where that might be difficult,” I tell her. “I like the nickname, bubbe, by the way.”

  “It’s not a nickname. Or maybe it is. It’s Hebrew for grandmother. Though we aren’t related by blood, she’s the closest I’ll ever have.”

  “No blood grandparents?”

  She shakes her head and comes back toward the kitchen. “My mom was raised in the system and never knew her parents. My dad’s parents died when I was young. Neither had siblings. It was always just my parents, my twin brother, and me. The three of them died a few years ago in a plane crash. They were all together and coming to see me. Jesus. Why am I telling you all this? I don’t even like to talk about this. It still hurts. So much.” Her voice breaks just a little.

  I go around to her side of the counter, pull her into my arms, and hold her tight. Her body shakes slightly, it takes me a second to realize that she’s crying.

  “It’s supposed to get easier,” she sniffles. “But it never has. Not one day goes by that I don’t miss them. Ohmigod, why am I crying? This is so embarrassing. It’s just my period. You already know I bought tampons, so I can totally tell you that. I always cry right before my period.”

  She laugh-snorts into my chest. “That’s not true at all. I cry at all kinds of things. All the time. Some kind of over-feeling, emotional freak here. It’s so pathetic.”

  “Hey, sweetness, don’t say that.” I lean back slightly so I can catch her eye. “Don’t you ever make excuses for havin’ feelings, you hear me? Feeling is love. Love is the purest, most genuine, and unselfish thing you can ever give to another person. That’s sacred, not pathetic. Just like you cryin’ ‘bout it. Nothin’ wrong with tears. Didn’t Mavis ever tell you ‘what soap is for the body, tears are for the soul’?”

  “No.”

  “It’s a Jewish Proverb.”

  “I like it.” She sniffles some more. “I think I got snot all over your shirt. I’m so sorry. I should go clean up.” She tries to push away from me, but I’m not ready to let her go yet.

  “We are havin’ a moment, sweetness. I’m not tryin’ to progress our relationship too quickly or nothing. But I am near covered in your bodily fluids and, well, I think that’s deservin’ of some after the fact hugging before you run off to clean up.”

  She giggles, which is what I was going for. Then she turns her head to the side and leans back into me, which is what I was hoping for.

  “You feel good,” she says. “It’s weird, I feel so comfortable with you and I don’t know why.”

  It’s ‘cause you’re my lightning bolt.

  I take a chance and give her a light kiss on the top of the head then let her go after another quick squeeze. She looks up at me and smiles, then runs her fingers under her eyes. “Ugh, I must look a mess. Where’s the restroom?”

  “You look beautiful. And it’s down that hall, first door on the left.”

  I return to prepping dinner. She looks refreshed when she comes back out.

  “I took a quick peek in a couple of rooms, I hope you don’t mind. This place is fantastic.”

  “Mi casa es su casa,” I say.

  Literally, if you want it.

  “How about I give you the grand tour after dinner?” I ask.

  “Sounds good,” she grins.

  I’ve set out three bottles of wine for her to choose from. Which in and of itself is a tizzy attack ready to happen. How in God’s green earth do you offer a winemaker wine? That’s like trying to buy me a new pair of boots. It’s too personal a choice for someone else to make.

  I clear my throat. “I’m going to have a Jack and Coke. Would you like a cocktail? Or some wine? And before you answer, I want you to know that it’s really hard to offer a winemaker wine without feeling self-conscious, so go easy on me.”

  “I’ll let you in on a little secret about me,” she says, standing on the foot rest of her stool and leaning over the counter, as though she’s going to whisper.

  I’m entranced.

  “It’s really nice to just sit back and enjoy a glass of wine and not have to think too hard on dissecting or comparing it.” She sits back in her seat and then points to the bottle of red I couldn’t figure out how to pronounce.

  Pinot Noir.

  “Coming right up. Just as soon as you tell me how to pronounce it.”

  She laughs. “It’s Pinot Noir.”

  “Pee-no Nawarr,” I repeat.

  “Perfect,” she says. Somehow, I doubt that, but I’m going to let her humor me, so I feel a little better about myself. Selecting wine for a woman you are trying to impress is an incredibly humbling process.

  She follows me outside while I put the steaks on the grill. “Ohmigod, if this were my yard, I’d never want to leave,” she says.

  “I accept,” I say.

  “You accept what?” she asks.

  “I accept your proposal. I will make this your yard, you’ll never leave, and we will live happily ever after.” I wink to show I’m kidding even though I’m not. She laughs. A big laugh. The kind that’s not so good for a man’s ego when he wasn’t making a joke.

  “You’re funny,” she says after a minute. But in that way where I’m not sure it was a compliment.

  * * *

  Our conversation through dinner stays light, easy, and a little flirty. When I give her a tour of the house, she lets me hold her hand. Lexie loves the house, which makes me beyond happy, and when I suggest a nightcap by the firepit outside, she says yes. We stretch out on a double lounger, her with a blanket and me on my own. But she snuggles close, holds my left hand in her right, and rests her head on my shoulder.

  I breathe a big sigh of content; pre
tty sure I could stay like this forever.

  “You like me, don’t you?” she asks.

  “I do,” I admit.

  “Why is it so easy for you to just admit it like that?”

  “I’m just statin’ a simple fact, sweetness. It does me no good to lie about it or play games with you.” I don’t tell her yet that she’s my lightning bolt. I fear that would scare her away at this point in our not-quite-a-relationship.

  “I should probably tell you that there’s a guy,” she says.

  I feel my stomach bottom out and my blood run cold. Until I realize she must be referring to the veterinarian that Mavis doesn’t like. Except, in all truth, knowing that does little to make me feel better. It’s still competition, and he’s in my way.

  “Okay,” I say hesitantly, wondering where she’s going to go with this.

  “He’s been my ex twice now,” she sighs.

  “As in you’ve broken up twice and gotten back together?” I clarify.

  “Yes,” she says. “Only the second time it wasn’t so much that we broke up as it was that he just left without a word.”

  “He left you?”

  She nods.

  “Without a word?”

  She nods again.

  “Why?” I can’t help but ask.

  She lifts her head and shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know. But now he’s coming back, and he says he wants to be with me and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Because he’s hurt you before?”

  “Yes. And, I don’t think I trust him.”

  “That’s tough,” I say, then I lift our hands and kiss the back of hers.

  “You know, I like you too,” she says with a sigh, laying her head back on my shoulder.

  My inner self roars in triumph with fists raised and legs pumping doing an end zone victory dance.

  Then she crushes me.

  “But I think I love him.”

  Chapter 17

  Lexie

  Cole goes completely still and stiff when I tell him I think I still love Trevor.