Waiting for You_Pine Valley

by Heather B. Moore

  “I didn’t name it,” Seth answered. Since his bag was full, and he’d also filled up Gwen’s, he said, “Let’s go eat. I don’t want you wasting away.” They walked back to the car, and Seth set the bags on the back seat.

  As they drove to their next destination, Gwen asked, “When did you know you wanted to be a chef? I mean, really go for it, culinary school and all?”

  “One summer my dad hired a chef to cook for one of his parties,” he said. “Usually he’d had the parties catered, with the food prepared off premises. My parents had used cooks from time to time when they were at home for longer stretches, but I’d never seen a trained gourmet chef in action. I sat on the kitchen barstool most of the night watching him do his magic.”

  Gwen smiled. “Magic, huh?”

  “Pretty much.” He slowed the car and turned the next corner. “I’ve only been to this place once, but I was impressed. I hope you like Thai food.”

  “I think I like most foods, although I’m not a fan of sushi.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Please tell me you’re not one of those sushi freaks.”

  “Not a sushi freak, although I do like it—maybe I can change your mind.”

  Gwen exhaled. “If anyone could, it would probably be you. But for now, I’m totally up for some chicken massaman.”

  Seth was reeling her in bit by bit, and Gwen could literally feel the pull toward him. She’d wanted to sit next to him at the Thai restaurant, but without a crazy woman named Valentina, there was no real excuse. And although Seth had made it clear time and time again that he liked her, she wasn’t about to drape herself all over him. So she stayed on her side of the table and asked him questions about his time in Paris.

  Seth had been right: the Thai food was delicious. But she managed to talk him out of offering a Thai dish at the restaurant. “Thai food is not the same at a regular restaurant. You need the atmosphere, the waitress who speaks broken English, the décor on the walls . . . it’s all part of the ambiance.”

  Seth nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  Now they were in the car driving back to Pine Valley as the summer sun sank behind the western hills, casting the sky into a riot of colors. The air conditioning was on low, and Gwen felt relaxed, even sleepy. But the last thing she’d do was fall asleep in Seth’s car—because what if she started snoring or drooling?

  The car suddenly listed to the side, and Seth let off the gas, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. “Hang on,” he said as he eased onto the shoulder of the road.

  Gwen sat up straight, suddenly alert. “What’s going on?”

  “Feels like a flat tire.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Seth put the car into Park and climbed out, then walked over to the tire on the front passenger side. Gwen climbed out as he squatted to examine the tire. Even from her angle, she could see it was flat.

  “Dammit.”

  Gwen laughed; she couldn’t help it.

  Seth looked up and frowned at her.

  “Sorry.” She raised her hands. “It’s just that your Mr. Perfect Car isn’t all that reliable.”

  Seth rose to his feet, his brows still furrowed, which only made Gwen laugh more.

  “Do you know how to change a tire, boss?” she asked. “Or should I do it?”

  “I can change my own tire,” he muttered.

  So Gwen leaned against the car, her arms folded, while she watched Seth change the tire. She’d never seen him in a sour mood, and she found it quite entertaining. She was also impressed that he really did know how to change a tire. Fifteen minutes later, they were on the road again.

  “So . . .” Gwen started.

  “Don’t say it,” Seth bit out. “I had the tires rotated and balanced a couple of weeks ago.”

  “You probably ran over a screw or nail at the homeless shelter, so it was only a matter of time. Or maybe it was that gravel area by the farmer’s market.”

  Seth gave a short nod.

  A few moments passed in silence, and Gwen began to wonder why a flat tire would put him so much out of sorts. He was overreacting. Maybe this could be his one great flaw that would make it easy for her to stop dating him.

  “Hey,” she said. “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, but his jaw was clenched tight.

  Since he was driving with his left hand, she slid her hand into his right hand. “I’ll stop teasing you about it if it will make you feel better.”

  He didn’t smile or laugh. Instead he exhaled, and his fingers curled around hers. “My best friend flipped his car in high school because of a flat tire. He didn’t make it.”

  Gwen looked over at him, her throat tight. “Wow. I’m so sorry. Was it a Mercedes?”

  “No . . . a Land Rover.”

  Gwen took a breath. “Your car is definitely the safer car out of the two. For one thing, it’s not top heavy.”

  “Yeah. I know,” Seth said. “That’s why I got it. But what if you’d been driving like you did a few weeks ago—would you have known what to do?”

  “Let off the gas,” Gwen said. “Steer slowly to the side of the road.”

  Seth glanced over at her. “Yep. Good.”

  Gwen fell silent, deciding to let his emotions play out.

  But when they arrived at her place, Seth was still quieter than usual. For some reason, it didn’t annoy Gwen like she thought it would. She wanted to somehow help him, console him. But it had been years since the accident, so how did she go about it?

  “I think you need some processed sugar and tons of preservatives,” she said as Seth pulled into her parking lot. She didn’t know if he was going to drop her off in front of her building or park and walk her to the door.

  But she had his attention now.

  “That sounds toxic,” he said, and his tone was lighter than it had been.

  Gwen spread her hands. “I’ve been eating the stuff for years, and it hasn’t affected me.”

  Seth quirked his mouth.

  “Well, I’ll let you be the judge of that,” she continued. “If you dare, you can come up and try what I have in the freezer. Or you can go home and wash all your vegetables, then watch Netflix by yourself.”

  “Netflix?”

  She shrugged. “Or whatever restaurant owners do on their nights off.”

  Seth pulled into a parking spot and turned off the car. “You’re on.”

  For some reason, this made Gwen’s heart soar. She’d managed to distract him, and now that she had him coming into her place, she second-guessed her motivations. It would put them in a private situation—after they’d already kissed a few times—and after Gwen had been letting her guard slip more and more.

  “I can’t guarantee the sterile state of my kitchen,” Gwen said as they walked to her door. “But I probably keep most of the health codes.” She unlocked her front door and flipped on the interior light.

  “Then you’re lucky I don’t work for the county health department,” he said, his tone even lighter.

  Gwen led the way to the kitchen and flipped on another light. Then she opened the freezer and pulled out a carton of red velvet ice cream.

  “That looks like it will do some damage,” Seth said with a straight face.

  “I hope you don’t mind eating out of the carton.” Gwen opened a drawer and pulled out two spoons. “It’s better that way, and I’m sort of a purist.”

  “I don’t mind.” Seth grabbed a spoon and dug out a rather large scoop.

  Gwen watched in awe as he popped it into his mouth.

  “Not bad,” he said after a moment, then dug in for another scoop.

  “Hey.” Gwen clinked their spoons together, knocking his to the side. “Save some for me.” She scooped up a similar-sized bite and put it in her mouth. Then the brain freeze struck. She dropped her spoon and cradled her head with a moan.

  Seth laughed.

  “Not funny,” Gwen ground out. She kept her eyes closed until the pain passed, and when she opened them again, Se
th was washing his spoon in the sink.

  “Giving up already?” Gwen asked.

  He flashed her a smile. It was nice to see that smile again. “I’m kind of full from dinner. Not that this isn’t really good.”

  Gwen put the lid on the carton and set the ice cream back in the freezer. “Admit it, this is too low-class for you.”

  Seth turned off the water and crossed to her. He stopped right in front of her so that very little space was left between her and the fridge.

  “I think I’m going to make you ice cream tomorrow,” he said in a low voice, his fingers brushing against hers.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “You know,” she started, “you don’t always have to one-up me in the food department. I mean, we can eat fast food once in a while. Or ice cream out of a carton. Maybe even a Twinkie.”

  His mouth quirked. “I’m not opposed to Twinkies. They’re kind of an American tradition.” He tugged at the edge of her shirt, and the ends of his fingers rested on her waist. His hazel-green eyes seemed to look right into her soul. “And you might be able to talk me into fast food on occasion.”

  “You’ll have to prove it,” she said, in a more breathless voice than she intended. “I’m not sure I’ll believe it until I’m a witness.”

  “Deal.” Seth’s hands moved behind her waist and pulled her flush against him.

  “You know, not everyone can date a gourmet chef,” she said. “Some of us have to settle for store-bought.”

  “I’ll cook for you anytime you want.”

  It was perhaps the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. “What about the rest of civilization? Maybe you could start boxing up some of your creations and shipping them out.”

  Seth chuckled. “That would defeat the purpose of using fresh ingredients.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Gwen’s heart pounded at his nearness, and she only wanted him closer. She moved her hands up his arms, then rested her hands on his shoulders.

  “What are your lunch plans tomorrow?” he asked, his gaze moving to her mouth. “I have a recipe I want to try in my kitchen.”

  “Should I be offended you don’t want to cook here?”

  “Don’t be offended.” He kissed her then, and she wondered how it could keep getting better and better. His kisses were slow, as if he was cherishing each and every one. One of his hands moved up her back, and goose bumps spread across her skin.

  She moved her hands behind his neck, finding his skin warm.

  When he pulled away, so they could both mercifully breathe, she said, “Are you making me ice cream?”

  He chuckled. “I was thinking more of a vegetable soup that would be paired with eggplant breadsticks.”

  “Ew.”

  Seth laughed and pulled her into a tight hug. “Don’t jump to conclusions without trying it first.”

  Gwen breathed in his clean spicy scent. “All right, boss. I’ll withhold judgment until tomorrow.”

  He released his grasp but kept her in his arms. “Did you just have a birthday?”

  Gwen felt the warmth drain from her face. She knew what he was talking about without turning around. On top of the fridge, she kept a small basket with birthday cards in it—birthday cards and other letters her parents had sent her. Even though she wasn’t on speaking terms with her parents, she hadn’t thrown out the letters her parents had sent. She hadn’t opened them either. She’d stopped reading the letters because they only made her angry. Instead she’d stashed them on top of the fridge and mostly forgotten about them.

  “My birthday was in March,” she said, thinking of how to change the subject. Well, she could always start kissing him again.

  “You don’t open your mail?” He released her and moved around her. “Oh. They’re from your parents?”

  The return address labels on them made that clear. Gwen chewed on a fingernail—a habit she’d long since kicked, she thought. “Yeah. I told them to never call me again, so they write me instead.”

  When she didn’t elaborate, Seth turned to face her. His eyes were intent on hers, yet filled with compassion. And possibly understanding. Except he didn’t understand.

  “What happened between you and your parents?” he asked.

  She released a sigh. “It’s a long story.” She faked a yawn. “And it’s late.”

  He stepped close to her and ran his fingers across her jaw, then behind her neck. She stilled and felt the light caress spread throughout the rest of her body. “You don’t have to tell me, but if you want to, I’m here to listen. And I won’t judge you.”

  The irony of his statement made her eyes sting. She turned from him and walked into the living room. Sitting on the couch, she grabbed one of the throw pillows and hugged it against her chest.

  Seth didn’t move from his spot in the kitchen for a moment, as if he was undecided about what to do. Then he joined her on the couch and draped his arm behind her.

  Gwen leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. “So . . .” she started in a quiet voice.

  Gwen was finally opening up to him, and Seth wished he could help her in some way, comfort her. Even though her issues with her parents had been going on for years, the pain in her voice was still raw. Sitting on the couch together, with his arm around her, was a start.

  “After my grandma died,” Gwen continued, “and after I returned home after running away, things didn’t get much better.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “The teenage years are hard enough without having to lose your grandma.”

  She nodded. “My parents never changed, no matter what I talked to them about. They kept up the façade of always trying to keep up with the neighbors. It seemed that they’d do anything they could so their friends kept thinking we had the perfect little life. My home life was no refuge, and I had tired of the same attitudes at school and among my friends. I guess I buried myself in schoolwork twenty-four-seven.”

  Seth brushed his fingers against her shoulder. “You had to have pretty good grades to get into Stanford in the first place.”

  “But still, it was my parents’ dream, not mine.”

  “I can relate.”

  “Yeah.” She peered up at him. “But somehow you’re still speaking to your parents.”

  “I’ll be the first to admit it hasn’t been easy.”

  “You’re a stronger person than I am, I guess.”

  “Hey.” Seth lifted her chin so that she was looking at him. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”

  She raised her brows and smirked. “You’re just trying to get brownie points.”

  He lowered his voice. “You don’t like compliments, do you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, then . . .” He kissed the edge of her mouth, then pulled back. “I’ll take any brownie points you want to give me.”

  She linked their fingers and looked down at their clasped hands. “I think my biggest flaw was thinking that the grass would be greener on the other side. Once I was moved out to go to college, life only became more frustrating.”

  Seth listened as she told him about her college roommates and their lifestyle. She told him about the drunk parties, the guys crashing wherever, whenever, and the academic cheating going on.

  “I guess I learned pretty quickly not to trust anyone.” Gwen shrugged, although Seth knew she was being far from flippant. “Both my family and friends only cared about themselves and creating some sort of image they felt obligated to uphold. I didn’t get why they were all chasing some unrealistic ideal.”

  Seth was quiet for a moment. Most people were chasing something, but he could see where Gwen was coming from. “I think it’s the motivations that are bothering you. I mean, what’s your motivation to go to a five-star restaurant every day to serve food?”

  Gwen met his gaze, and he was tempted to kiss her again.

  “Now we’re going to psychoanalyze me?” she asked.

  Seth
smiled and brushed a bit of her hair from her forehead. “I’m curious.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Um. I don’t like being a boss. I like the flexibility. I like the hours. I like the variety. No two nights are the same.”

  “Fair enough.” He paused. “And what about next year, or five years from now?”

  She straightened and tugged her hand away from his. “Are you trying to get me to reveal my five-year plan?”

  “Do you have one?”

  She scoffed. “You sound like my parents.”

  He grasped her hand and drew it toward him again. “Maybe they’re not so bad, then.”

  Gwen narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t pull away. “You’ve never met them.”

  He knew he was taking a risk, but he’d taken a lot of risks with Gwen. “I hope to meet them someday.”

  She stared at him.

  “I mean, I hope that you’ll reconcile,” he continued, “you know, after you read their letters. Then you can introduce me.”

  “Seth . . .”

  “I know.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I’ve jumped about ten steps ahead.”

  She gave a small smile. “Well, if I ever reconcile with them, I’ll give you a call.”

  “And I’ll answer that call.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure you will. You keep following me around.”

  He turned her hand over and linked their fingers together. “Am I bothering you too much?”

  She exhaled softly. “Not so much anymore.”

  He laughed. “What?”

  “I mean, I guess you’re growing on me, and . . . you’re not who I thought you were.”

  “Hmm.” Seth moved his hand up her arm, then settled his hand on her shoulder. He brushed his thumb against the pulse of her neck. “So, are we going to keep hanging out?”

  The edges of her mouth turned up. “Maybe.”

  “I like your ‘maybe’ a lot better than your ‘no.’”

  She lowered her lashes and said in a coy tone, “Well, you did name a dessert after me.”

  “I should have done that months ago,” he whispered, then moved closer. She didn’t move, so he closed the distance and kissed her softly. It was a light kiss, but he lingered, and she kissed him back, keeping things equally tame.