Somebody Like You: A Darling, VT Novel

by Donna Alward

  Aiden reached behind his seat and took out a pack. “Hope you don’t mind dinner to go.”

  A picnic. He’d packed a picnic. She couldn’t help it, she was charmed. She couldn’t imagine a better date than a picnic, particularly one in a park like Red Rocks. It was big enough that there was privacy and peace and quiet; Lake Champlain was right here and there were walking trails throughout. If she remembered right, one path led straight from the parking area down to a picnic spot.

  “It depends,” she said, teasing a little. “Did you do the cooking?”

  He chuckled. “No way. I’ll confess, I did see Willow today. This morning, actually. I sent her on a little recon mission.”

  “And she helped you. That Judas.”

  “She’s only a Judas if you have regrets. Do you?”

  She looked over at him as they walked. “No. I know I’m outside a lot of the day, but it’s still a limited environment. Getting out like this is perfect. And if she’s responsible for what’s in your pack, that’s even better.”

  He nodded. “She even loaned me the bag. You should see this thing. It’s totally tricked out.”

  She laughed. And as they walked down the path toward the lake, he reached over and took her hand. She let him. It felt good, her hand inside his. It felt right, and exciting. She’d always thought that when she got to be a certain age—she was on the downhill slide to thirty now—she’d be beyond those sorts of breathless moments from something as simple as holding hands. She wasn’t and it felt amazing.

  As her fingers twined with his, she had the urge to stop right there in the middle of the path and kiss him. To be with him, to make that statement of togetherness. Goodness knows she felt it on the inside; that sense of belonging and accepting of each other. It was fear that held her back. Fear of seeming foolish, of making more of their relationship than it was, of moving way too fast emotionally than she was ready for.

  “You’re quiet,” he observed, squeezing her fingers.

  “I’m just thinking. This is really nice, Aiden. The grass and the trees and the lake, and I swear I let out a big breath and my stress just melts away.”

  “That’s the general idea.” They reached the picnic spot and picked a table. There were other people around, but no one else at the picnic area at the moment, and Aiden slid the pack off his shoulders. She noticed now that two straps along the front held a blanket. He unbuckled the fastenings and shook it out, then put it on the table as a tablecloth. “Unless you prefer the ground,” he said.

  “The table’s fine.” Her stomach rumbled at the idea of food. “So what have you got in there, anyway?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  He started unpacking. There was a bottle of something sparkly and lemon-looking, as well as two plastic stem glasses. Plates, knives, forks, and napkins came out of little compartments in the front section of the pack. The food was in the main part, and Willow, being the person that she was, had packed everything in reusable containers.

  There were pita triangles, fresh hummus, herbed cheese, a dish of Willow’s famous bean salad, another dish of a salad that appeared to be made of tomatoes, cucumbers, and roasted corn, and a last one containing sliced turkey breast. Aiden put it down with the others. “Willow made a point of letting me know this is free range turkey and that the herbs are from her own garden.”

  “She’s something, isn’t she?”

  “I wanted something nicer than takeout from the Sugarbush.”

  “It’s gorgeous. And I’m starving. What’s in the bottle?”

  “Lemon Italian soda.”

  “God, that sounds good.”

  They sat on opposite sides of the table and dug in, helping themselves to portions of Willow’s delectable cooking. While they ate, they chatted about work and little happenings around town. Nothing heavy, nothing serious. A couple of joggers passed by on the path; an older couple walked by with their two spaniels who seemed particularly interested in a chattering squirrel in a nearby tree. The soda was slightly sweet and tart, and once Laurel’s plate was empty, she rested her elbows on the table and relaxed. “That was so good.”

  “I slaved all day,” Aiden joked, and they laughed. “Seriously, though, there’s dessert. Do you want it now or save it for later?”

  “We could always go for a walk first. Maybe stop and get a coffee or something on the way back to Darling and have it then.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  They packed up the picnic together, and Laurel folded the cloth while Aiden zipped up the compartments. The sun was still well in the sky but the air had cooled a bit, and they walked the pedestrian path down toward the lake.

  It was a popular spot, though the size of the park lent a certain privacy as they only occasionally met other walkers, many with dogs on-leash. The early summer weather meant the trees were in full leaf, creating a sibilant canopy above their heads as they strolled. On their left, the lake glittered, gray-blue and immense.

  “I always find it crazy how many people still jump from the cliffs into the lake,” Laurel said. “I’m scared of heights, so that wouldn’t be me anyway, but so many people have been hurt. You just don’t know what’s down there, under the water.”

  Aiden thought for a minute. “You know,” he replied, “I think there’s something about the unknown, about the risk, that lures people. Especially younger people who think they’re invincible.”

  “Like you were?”

  “Maybe.” He smiled over at her. “I first thought about being a cop because it seemed exciting to me. If I’d only known…” He laughed. “Most days my job is boring as dirt. But I have to always be on my guard because it’s also unpredictable.”

  “Traffic stops and loitering?”

  “Don’t forget shoplifting. And graffiti.”

  “I guess in all the latest with the vandalism, I kind of forgot that Darling isn’t really a place for violent crime, is it?”

  “Occasionally, but not often. It has the same problems as anywhere else. Mom thinks I’m itching to go be a city detective or something, but I’m not. I just want to make a difference. Writing a ticket for illegal parking or telling some kid to stop skateboarding on private property … sometimes it feels futile.”

  Laurel looked over at him for a long time. Where was the cocky, self-absorbed boy she’d known? “You grew up into a good man, Aiden.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I do. I mean, I actually wanted to hate you. And I don’t.”

  “I’m really glad to hear that.”

  Their steps shuffled over the path as they slowed to an ambling pace. “So,” she asked, “tell me how you want to make a difference.”

  He didn’t even pause. “You know the vagrant in town? George?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I try to help him when I can. He won’t talk about himself, and I don’t pry. Everyone has a right to their own story, you know? But I’ve taken him shopping for clothes at the goodwill. I’ll buy him a meal now and again. Make sure he gets to the shelter for the night. I wish I could help him get his life back, but he doesn’t seem really interested in that. So I just do what I can.”

  What a softie he was turning out to be. She could tell by the affection in his voice that he really had a tender spot for this George guy. “You are helping him. You look out for him. You can’t make people do something they don’t want to do.”

  “I know. It’s just … when I get a call from one of the businesses, saying he’s hanging around, I want to tell them to find some compassion, you know?”

  She put her hand on his arm. “Know what? I think the number one thing a cop is supposed to do is be there to help people. Sometimes the smallest things have the biggest ripple effects. Don’t sell yourself short, okay?” She slid her fingers off his arm, more words sitting on her tongue. She was too embarrassed to speak them, though. The truth was, hearing Aiden talk like this made her want to be a better person … and up until now she’d been pre
tty squared away with herself. But maybe she had a long way to go.

  Maybe, just maybe, she’d been thinking about herself and her problems and her life a little too often.

  She was still pondering it when a distinct cry came from above them, a loud, laughing call. Both of them looked up immediately. “There,” Aiden said, pointing at a rather dead spruce tree about fifty yards away. “Halfway up. Look.”

  She squinted and searched for a few seconds, but then a motion caught her eye. A large bird hopped around the trunk of the tree, his scarlet crown announcing his presence. “That’s the biggest woodpecker I’ve ever seen.”

  He laughed quietly. “It’s a pileated woodpecker. I had one go over my head once and I thought I was being dive-bombed by an eagle or something. They’re huge.”

  The woodpecker drummed at the tree, his beak pounding out a rhythm that was far deeper and more resonant than the usual woodpeckers she heard. “And beautiful. Oh wow.”

  She must have said it too loudly, because he launched himself off the tree and flew away, his wings making whooshing sounds.

  “Shoot,” she whispered, disappointed.

  They walked on, looping through the park. They saw squirrels and chipmunks, a couple of chickadees darting from place to place, and at a small inlet they found a pool of ducks, diving and bobbing. Aiden pointed out toward more open water and she watched as a loon disappeared beneath the surface completely, coming up again several seconds later and several feet away from where he’d gone under. They stood for a long time and watched, Aiden behind her with his arms around her. His body kept her bare arms warm in the cooling evening, and when the loons sent up their plaintive, beautiful call, she let out a contented sigh.

  She’d needed this. More than a picnic with his family or fireworks. She’d needed a walk in nature, a simple meal, and easy company. She’d needed him, she realized, and it scared her to death. She didn’t want to need anyone. And yet how could something that felt so good for her be a bad thing?

  “You want to head back now? I’ve got some sort of brownie thing in this pack that’s in desperate need of a hot chocolate to go with it.”

  “I guess.” She leaned into his embrace. “In a minute. This is so perfect.” The waves lapped rhythmically on the shore.

  “I always liked it here. We can stay as long as you like. I thought you might be getting cold. Or tired.”

  “Both,” she admitted. “But a little longer. I like watching the ducks.”

  They stayed until the shadows lengthened and Laurel started to shiver in the cooling air. Then they turned away from the lake and walked the remainder of the trail back to the parking area, then out to the gates.

  “So,” he said, starting the truck. “Good time?”

  “A very good time. Best date I’ve had in … well, I don’t remember when. I haven’t really dated since the divorce.”

  He grinned at her. “And here I thought I couldn’t top Memorial Day.”

  “That was pretty good, except for the embarrassing ending.” She raised one eyebrow. “Did you catch much grief about it at work?”

  He nodded, then focused on making a U-turn. “A fair bit.”

  “Do they really think you’re straight and narrow?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Not exactly. But I wouldn’t want you to be too good. That’s a bit boring.”

  “I can be bad when I want to be.”

  That swirl of attraction was happening again. His words, paired with the memory of the other night, added a tension to the atmosphere of the truck. “Don’t I know it,” she murmured.

  He turned his face to her briefly. There was an intensity in his gaze that sent little flames of desire licking all over her. “You do realize,” he said huskily, “that there’s nothing I want to do more right now than pull the truck over and show you.”

  Her mouth went dry. “But you won’t.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  There was relief that rushed through her, but at the same time the tension remained. She wanted him. She longed for him, and he was over there and she was in her seat with her seatbelt on like a good girl, and why on earth did this drive seem to take so long?

  “When I start something with you,” he said, “I intend to finish it. Alone. Without interruptions.”

  Melt. Puddle. Right then and there.

  “Aiden,” she whispered. “Don’t…”

  The exit to Darling appeared on the right and he slowed, precisely to the speed limit posted on the sign for the ramp, so controlled. Until she looked at his hands, clenching the wheel. It wasn’t just her. He was feeling the same urgency, and it only added to the fragile excitement. Fragile because this was all new …

  “Rory’s probably home at my place,” he said, stopping at a stop sign.

  “I don’t have a roommate,” she replied, breathless. The invitation was clear.

  Were they going to do this? And what was “this”? She didn’t want to think about it too much. Didn’t want to analyze it or worry about it. She just wanted to focus on the moment. He looked over at her once more and it was like a jolt of electricity passed between them.

  She remembered feeling like this once before, with him. They’d been in his car and it had been dark and they’d looked at each other in that moment before he first kissed her. She’d felt like she might burst out of her skin, wanting him to finally like her “that” way. And when they’d kissed, when he’d touched her, it hadn’t mattered that they were seventeen. He’d been the first boy she’d let go that far. The first boy she’d wanted so much that she’d nearly thrown caution to the wind, caught up in the intensity of the moment.

  They were grown-ups now. Smarter, hopefully wiser. As a high school senior, it had felt risky, daring. As an adult, it simply felt …

  Inevitable.

  Neither of them had said a word for the last few minutes. Aiden pulled up in front of her house and shut off the engine. There was no question of him dropping her off and driving away; he got out at the same time she did, and he grabbed the pack from the backseat before following her to the door, their footsteps beating a fast tattoo on the stones.

  Her fingers trembled as she fumbled, trying to put the key in the lock.

  “Relax,” he said from behind her, his voice a sexy, low rumble that turned her on even further.

  “My hands are shaking,” she admitted, and he put his fingers over hers.

  “We’ve got all night.” He guided the key home and turned the lock.

  Laurel could barely breathe as they stepped into her little foyer. The last time they’d stood here he’d pushed her against the wall and kissed her silly. This time, though, she turned around and he’d put down the pack. And instead of coming to her, he stood there and waited.

  “Your call,” he said. “You know what I want, Laurel. So come take what you want.”

  She was no good at this kind of thing; she didn’t know what to do. As if he read her mind, Aiden spoke again in that hypnotic timbre that turned her all hot and liquid.

  “Do what you feel like doing and stop overthinking. There’s no wrong move, here.” He paused, then added, “Just touch me.”

  Touch me.

  She pushed off her shoes so that she was in her sock feet, and took the three steps necessary to be directly in front of him. And then she did what she really, really wanted to do. She reached for the button on his shirt, the one right at the hollow at his throat. She slipped it from the buttonhole and released the next one, and the next, and the next … until she pulled the tails out of his jeans and finished with all the buttons and his shirt gaped open.

  Then she finally touched him.

  His chest rose and fell quickly with a sharp intake of breath. Laurel ran her fingers down his pecs, over his taut abs, which he sucked in at her feathered touch. She pushed the light shirt off his shoulders and it dropped to the floor behind them, and she was sure that there was never a sexier picture than Aiden Gallagher standing shirtless and in jeans
. He was taller than her by several inches, which put her lips just about even with his chest. She took advantage of the height, rubbing her lips over the warm skin, using her tongue to flick at the tiny nipple while her hands ran over his shoulders, touching, tasting.

  “You’re so hard,” she murmured against his skin.

  “You’ve got no idea,” he replied hoarsely.

  And because she was feeling brave, she slid one hand down to the zipper of his jeans, pressed it against his very obvious erection. “Oh, I think I do,” she answered.

  “Laurel.”

  “Yes?” She was licking his chest again, and his breath shook. She loved that she might actually have the power to shake his hold on his control.

  “We didn’t have dessert yet. And that’s what I’d really like.”

  She lifted her head. “Dessert? Are you serious?”

  “Very.” His gaze burned into hers. He reached down into the pack and took out two containers. “Come to the kitchen with me.”

  She followed him, watching the rear view with new appreciation. His strong shoulders tapered down to a narrow waist and hips. The other night she hadn’t been able to see the flex and form of his muscles, but she could now and marveled at them. The last thing she cared about was dessert, but she was afraid to speak up. Aiden seemed so much more sure of himself than she did. She could follow his lead.

  He put one dish in the microwave and turned it on, then opened the other to reveal two perfectly square, chocolate brownies.

  “Forks?”

  Her body was still humming and he was asking for forks? She went to a drawer and took out two. “Just one, I think. And a spoon,” he amended.

  The microwave dinged. He took out the dish and she realized it was fudge sauce. He poured half the bowl over the brownies. Then he dipped in his fork, cut a small corner, and offered it to her.

  She tasted it. It was moist, sinful heaven.

  “You got a bit of sauce right here,” he said, and before she could react, he kissed the side of her mouth, licking away the chocolate at the corner.