by Kelly Moran
She laughed. A husky, smoke-filled sound that did nothing for his attempt at control. “Problem, Drake?”
“Yes,” he mumbled against her skin. “I’m trying to take things slow here, but you smell good. And look good. And sound good. And feel good. Do I need to keep going?” He lifted his head, staring into her pretty eyes. “And taste good.”
He kissed her, first her upper lip, then the lower. Tilting his head, he licked the seam of her mouth and was granted entry. Stroking his tongue against hers, he slid one hand under her head and let the other drift. Up her side, beside her breast. Such small, perfect breasts that would fit in his hands. He grazed his thumb across her peaked nipple and her mouth parted wider in a gasp.
Loving her responsiveness, he groaned. She arched under him, sliding her good parts against his until he was blind, deaf, and dumb to anything but her. Blood raged through his veins, pounded at his temples, roared in his ears. Her fingers teased his nape, clenched his short hairs, and heaven help him, he rocked his hips. Need tightened his muscles and put restraint just out of reach.
To draw a much-needed gulp of air, he kissed his way across her cheek and to her jaw. “Since we have softball today, and I’m assuming you want to visit your mom first, we should resurface.”
Breaths uneven, she unhitched her legs from around his ass and dragged one heel up his back, grinding his erection more snugly with the motion. Mercy, she was nimble. Her fingers trailed down his sides, dipping into the waistband of his shorts and pausing. Meanwhile, her tongue and teeth worked his throat, sending his lungs into asthmatic fever.
“I cry uncle.” Before he became incapable, he rolled off her and sat at the edge of the bed. The room spun. “I’m going to borrow your shower and crank it to deep freeze. I’ll make you breakfast after.”
Grinning, she stretched her arms over her head, causing her shirt to ride up her taut belly and thrusting her breasts toward the ceiling. “I don’t eat breakfast.”
He bit down another groan. “Coffee, then.”
She yawned, and even that was cute. “My hero.”
Kneeling on the mattress, he leaned over her. “By the way, we’re going on a date tonight.”
Her eyes popped out of their sockets. “What? Why?”
“I told you I wanted to date you.”
She sighed. “Yeah, but—”
“Save your breath.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you at the game. And I’ll pick you up here at six.”
Leaving her steamed and confused, he took a cold shower, fed her cat, started a pot of coffee, and headed out to relieve Flynn of his dogs.
By the time he made it to the field, he was dying to be near her again. See if she was still pissy and how many times she’d try to worm her way out of tonight. Seemed she was okay with inevitable sex, with sleeping with him, but dating was another story. Part of him couldn’t blame her, not with her mother’s condition hanging over her head. But if they were going to do this, they’d do it right. She deserved to get all the things on her list, and though she may have abandoned those dreams, he wouldn’t.
Standing next to the dugout fence with Flynn and Cade, pre-game warm-up going on around them, Drake watched Zoe chatting with Jason, Parker, and Gabby by the third base line.
Some of the humidity had passed with the overnight rain, but the sun was hot in a cloudless sky. Off in the distance, fog at the base of the Coast Range was beginning to dissipate and sea salt hung on the breeze to mix with damp grass and pine. Not a bad day to play ball.
“What did she say about the test?”
Drake’s gut sank with Flynn’s reminder. “She hasn’t done one. She’s going to make an appointment this week.”
Cade nodded. “Are you okay?”
“The better question would be is she okay.” He rubbed his neck, unable to fathom Zoe declining like her mother. All that kept running through his mind was not her, not her, not her.
Flynn sighed and stared ahead. “I don’t know what I’d do if it was Gabby. You must be going out of your mind.”
That about summed it up. Finished with the conversation, Drake strode past the fence, looped an arm around Zoe’s waist, and hauled her against his chest until her toes dipped off the infield grass.
“Excuse us, please, guys.” He headed toward the bench.
She frowned as he carried her. “What are you doing?”
“This.” He kissed her. Right there in front of God and the whole county. Long enough to turn heads, but swift enough no one had to blush or cover their kids’ attention. He could all but feel two hundred sets of eyes on him from the bleachers.
Jason whistled behind them. “Does this mean I can’t make innuendos about the size of my baseball bat anymore?”
Keeping his gaze locked with Zoe’s, Drake shouted, “Yes.”
“Well, okay. But I can’t promise to keep Parker in check.”
Drake assumed the snort in response came from the aforementioned sheriff. Drake kept walking, staring at Zoe. “No smartass remark?”
Her droll expression was answer enough. “Would you listen anyway?”
“No.”
“Just to be argumentative, we shouldn’t be doing this. Everyone’s watching.”
He glanced over her shoulder to the bleachers, his gaze locking with his mom’s. She had a hand clutched to her chest and the biggest grin in damnation. Pressing her lips together, she nodded in approval.
Drake shifted his gaze back to Zoe. “I disagree.”
They wound up winning the game by one run when Gabby, of all people, bunted, allowing Cade to steal home. Congratulations went around, and Drake packed up his gear, ready to head out.
He caught up with Brent, Miles, and Zoe walking to the parking lot and slung an arm over her shoulders. “Good game. Nice homer in the sixth.”
“My brilliance is to be expected.”
Holding Brent’s hand, Miles paused mid-step. “That was a great kiss pre-game.” He smirked at Drake.
Brent fanned his face. “Totes agree.”
“Don’t encourage him.” Zoe rolled her eyes. “And you are sweaty.” She nudged Drake with her elbow. “So am I.”
He grinned at her. “If you’re able to pry the clothes from my body, you can have what’s underneath.”
A careening gasp from Brent turned several heads their way. “Oh my Gucci. Did you just…did you…?” He released Miles’ hand and skipped toward the area near a popcorn stand where Drake’s mom and two aunts were chatting. “Marie! Guess what.”
Zoe crossed her arms. “I knew it. I knew he was in cahoots with the Battleaxes.”
With a placating smile, Miles patted her arm. “Knowing is half the battle. I’ll go wrangle my boyfriend before he does more damage.”
“Aw. Boyfriend.” Zoe’s full-cocked grin had Drake shaking his head and fighting his own.
Miles winked. “I hear we have you to thank for the suggestion he ask me out.”
“Yep. You can reward me with shoe shopping and tequila shots.”
“You’re on.” He kissed her cheek and followed Brent.
When Miles was out of hearing range, Zoe eyed Drake. “You’re catching on to this flirting thing. Well done.”
He slung his bag over his shoulder. “Wait until tonight. You haven’t seen anything yet.”
“Yeah. About that…”
“Pick you up at six.”
Leaving her staring, slack-jawed, he drove home, showered, and ran his dogs ragged in the backyard. Then he fried some chicken, packed a basket with some other items, and tried fruitlessly to pass time until he could go pick up Zoe.
Christ. He hadn’t been this excited or nervous in a decade. As he drove the back roads to her house, he shut off the radio and put down the windows, letting the wind fill the cab of his truck.
She answered within seconds of
him ringing the bell and wore a…bathrobe. Short, silky, and black. Crossing her arms, she smiled. “I need to know where we’re going in order to properly dress.”
She could wear that for all he cared, but he glanced down at himself. He’d worn jeans and a T-shirt. “Casual is fine.”
“Be right back.”
As she disappeared down the hall, he kicked the door shut. Cotton wove around his legs. Drake gave him some attention and paced the living room with the cat purring in his arms.
Fifteen minutes later, she came out wearing skinny jeans, a loose swoop-neck blouse the same color gray as the speckles in her irises, and black sandals. She’d left her hair down, and he realized the purple color had faded to a barely noticeable violet. Silky waves fell around her shoulders. She’d done something insanely sexy with her eyes, too. Smoky. It made them seem even bigger.
He cleared his throat from across the room. “You look...very nice.” She looked like a siren and he nearly swallowed his tongue.
Her brows raised at his pause, but she said nothing as she gathered her purse and walked to the door.
In the truck, he passed her a small bouquet of yellow Gerbera daisies. “For you.”
“Thanks.” She stared at them like no one had given her flowers before. Knowing her refusal to date, that might be the case. “These are close to my favorite.”
Drake had to call Brent to learn that tidbit after striking out with Gabby. Brent had not made it easy for Drake to gather intel on something as mundane as flowers. “Good to know.”
She was eerily and uncharacteristically quiet as he drove through town and to the outskirts. A quick glance her way, and he caught her still staring at the bouquet with a cross between a frown and confusion. Suddenly pissed off at her previous lovers, he sighed.
“Do I smell chicken?” She turned in her seat and eyed the basket behind him. “Is that your mom’s fried chicken? Say yes.”
He laughed. “Mom’s recipe. I made it.”
“Are we there yet?”
He laughed again. “Almost.” Taking her hand, he kissed her inner wrist, successfully keeping her quiet the rest of the drive. Any amount of romanticism seemed to render her mute, so he made a note of that for when she started another battle with him over…anything.
Parking near the cove, he opened his door and grabbed the basket. “Wait here.” He walked around the truck and opened her door. She stared at him, unblinking. “Well, come on.”
“You said to stay here.”
He ran his tongue over his teeth. “So I could open your door for you.” Who knew he could teach her a thing or two about a proper date? At thirty-one years old, she should’ve had some semblance of chivalry, right? Apparently not.
“Huh.” Taking his hand, she hopped down.
They walked across the gravel parking lot, through a short wooded trail, and down a set of stone stairs to a small strip of beach. Rocky bluffs jutted on both sides with an inlet area of the Pacific past the shore. Off in the distance, the Klamath Mountains peaked toward the fading daylight, surrounded by fog from the banks. The fisherman piers were off to the left. Huge boughs and masts bobbed in the water, proving the ships were docked for the night.
He loved this spot. Townsfolk knew about this area of the cove but, at tide, the cave next to the manmade staircase would flood, so most didn’t venture this way late in the day. He’d checked the tide calendar, and they’d be good here until at least eight. Even then, they could sit on the steps after dusk.
Setting the basket in the sand, he laid out a blanket, the food, and turned to her. She was standing where he’d left her, on the bottom stair, and biting her thumbnail. His heart twisted in his chest at her nervous tell. One thing she should never be with him was anxious.
The mighty Zoe Hornsby, brought to her knees by a simple picnic.
“Come here.” He held out his hand, waiting.
It took her a beat, but she toed off her sandals and moved in front of him. Her hair whipped around her face with a stiff wind. “This is the spot I painted last night.”
He grunted. “That’s what gave me the idea.” He studied her expression, but she wasn’t giving him anything to work with. “Think we’ll find any crabs sword fighting?”
A ghost of a smile traced her lips, there and gone in a blink. She gathered her hair in her hand to keep it from blowing around and stared past him at the view. Knowing her artistic eye, she was probably mapping a painting. The longer she stood there, the more nervous he became.
“What are you thinking?”
With a breathy laugh, she shook her head. “Never ask a woman that question.” She smiled. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter 19
He’d made fried chicken, potato salad, and sliced watermelon. Drake had even brought along her favorite peanut butter cookies from Sweet Tooth Bakery and a bottle of wine. A picnic. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around it.
Zoe shook her head while sitting on the stone steps near the cove and gazed at the horizon. Tide was coming in, filling the small patch of beach with water. Dusk settled, casting the sky in pink and purple hues and turning the water black. Stars were beginning to wink overhead. With the rocky bluffs surrounding them, it felt like they were the only two people in existence.
Drake O’Grady definitely knew how to plan a date. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was wasted on her. The future was uncertain and, let’s face it, she was a sure thing. When he was ready to be intimate, she’d be there. All she could give him was now. Until she took the blood test and the results came in, they were suspended in a what-if state.
And yet her throat grew tight at his gesture. He’d bought her flowers and opened her car door and had even made food for a picnic. She’d known all her life Drake was a rare breed of gallant, but this exceeded expectations. How many times as a teen had she laid in bed dreaming of a date with him? How many stupid fantasies had rolled around in her head after Heather died for just one night with him?
From next to her, Drake poured the last of the wine in their glasses and set the empty bottle in the basket on the steps by his feet. “You’re awfully quiet.”
She took a sip to cool her throat and forced a smile. “How odd you would complain about it.”
“I’m not complaining. I’m concerned.”
“Don’t be. I’m having a great time.” Sighing, she rested her head on his shoulder. Those shoulders had carried such enormous weight through the years, and her gut ached that she might be adding to it.
“Me, too.” He kissed the top of her head and spoke into her hair. “But it’s not like you to be silent this long. Makes me wonder if the end of days is coming. Talk to me.”
“About what?” If he knew what she’d been thinking, he’d get upset or, worse, convince her to backtrack.
“Anything. Nothing. I don’t care.”
Closing her eyes, she smiled and thought about the last time she’d been here. “Did you know that a great way to avoid consuming calories after nine p.m. is to eat a tub of ice cream at eight-fifty?”
His laugh ruffled her hair. “Is that your way of telling me you want ice cream?”
“No. I said the same thing to Gabby when we came out here one night a few years ago with a pint of mint chocolate chip. She’d gone on a date that went horribly wrong. She cried buckets, like Gabby tends to do, and we did some male bashing as therapy.”
“And what great piece of advice did you bestow on our Gabby? Knowing you, there was some snarky opinion involved.”
Setting her chin on his shoulder, she looked up at him. “Of course. But I can’t break girl code to tell you.”
“It all worked out anyway. Her and Flynn are… What does Brent say? Epic?” He took her glass and set it aside, doing the same with his own, then faced her once more.
In the low light, his brown eyes appeared black as midnight and were fill
ed with such amusement, such affection, it stalled the breath in her lungs. Their faces were so close she wouldn’t have to go far to kiss him. A wisp of a smile curved his mouth as he studied her. His gaze drifted over her hair, forehead, cheeks, chin, mouth, and settled back on her eyes. He seemed to be working something out in his head by the way his eyebrows drew ever so slightly together and his lips parted.
“Now you’re the one being quiet. Are you thinking about our next date or preparing to run for the hills?”
“I don’t run. And this date isn’t over yet.” He brushed his nose against hers. “I’m supposed to take you home and kiss you good night on your porch.”
Her heart pounded so hard she was surprised he couldn’t hear it. “No one would blame you for changing your mind.” By the slight edge filling his eyes, he knew she wasn’t talking about a kiss, but rather the whole idea of dating in general.
He stared at her an eternity and then cupped her cheek. “That’s not going to happen. There’s no changing my fucking mind, Zoe.”
Damn, he could knock her off her feet with one sentence. Every time. Her skin heated and she trembled at the intensity in his expression. Desire colliding with irritation. “Then what are you waiting for? Kiss me.”
A low groan rumbled in his throat. “We’re not on your porch yet.” His gaze dipped to her mouth and back up again. “Honestly, I don’t want to drive you home.”
“Where do you want to take me?”
Closing his eyes, he rested his cheek to hers, and when he spoke, his hot breath fanned her ear. “Everywhere.” His lips caressed her neck. “Every damn where.”
Her head rolled back as a full-body tremor coursed through her. Her core throbbed and her breasts ached and she was panting worse than a Cocker Spaniel at a Bullmastiff convention. Needy whimpers rose in her throat.
His lips grazed her jaw as he shifted to the other side of her neck. “You’re not making this any easier with those sexy little sounds, honey.”
“Sorry.”
His tongue traced over her pulse.
“Okay, not sorry,” she breathed. Swear to God, if he didn’t take her home or right here on the steps, she was going to implode. Threading her fingers through his thick, black hair, she forced him to look at her. “How about a compromise? Your house. We can watch a movie and make out like teenagers on your couch.”