The Promise of Rainbows

by Ava Miles

  When her hand settled on his chest, he stilled. He became aware of his heart, the one that seemed to beat to a different cadence whenever she was around—like the opening chords of a love song.

  His arms came around her. “I can’t seem to help wanting to hold you and kiss you after waiting so long.”

  She returned his embrace, resting her head against his chest. “I know what you mean.”

  He nestled his head into her neck for a moment, inhaling her scent—exotic and floral all at the same time. “I even missed you after I left you,” he whispered. “Is that crazy?”

  “I missed you too,” she said, burrowing even closer. “So I guess we’re both crazy.”

  Jake pulled back so he could see her beautiful face. Crazy in love, he wanted to say, but he didn’t want to make assumptions there either. The pace of their courtship hadn’t been normal, and while he might know she was his true north, he didn’t want to assume he was hers.

  The wind blew around them, and Susannah shivered.

  “Come in. I shouldn’t have kept you in the doorway.”

  After he shut the door behind her, he helped her with her coat and the sight of her dress pretty much had his mouth going Saguaro-cactus dry. It was a red sheath of a thing that clung to her slender body in all the right places.

  “Goodness me,” he declared. “You leave me breathless.”

  The smile she gave him was so full of light he imagined the stars would be envious.

  “That was the plan. This is a date, after all.” Then she turned and gasped. “Oh, my heavens! You have candles. Where did those come from? Because I know we didn’t buy them. And flowers!”

  He put his arm around her waist because he could. “I had some help. Come see.”

  As he led her into the den, she reached for his hand and all but melted into his side. “You did all this? Today?”

  “As I said, I had help.”

  She stopped in the center of the den, and the glow from the candles touched her face. “This is beautiful, Jake. More than I could have imagined.”

  He touched her face with his free hand. “I wanted our official first date to be special. You…deserve…well, hell, everything good in the world, Susannah. I want to be worthy of you.”

  She kissed his palm. “You are, darlin’.”

  Hearing her call him that made his legs a little unsteady, like they got when he won a music award. “Come see what someone else cooked up for dinner.”

  She laughed. “Hired out, did you?”

  “I’m not terrible in the kitchen, but you deserved better tonight.”

  Leading her to the kitchen, he couldn’t help but take pride in how much the house was transforming. Before Susannah, he’d barely had a frying pan to his name. Now he had everything a famous chef could ask for.

  “Oh, you have appetizers,” she gasped. “Good heavens! Is that lobster on those canapés?”

  He lifted his shoulder. “When I asked the chef for fancy, he suggested lobster. I hope you like it.”

  “What’s not to like?”

  She raised his hand and spun in a circle, and he caught her to him and led her into a two-step. After seeing the tears she’d shed for him, it made him happy to see her this light-hearted.

  “I forgot to put on some music,” he said, pressing his cheek to hers as they danced.

  “We seem to be doing okay.” Her steps matched his easily, and he led her into another turn. It was effortless. They danced like they’d been together for fifty years.

  “I’ve pretty much fallen head over heels for you,” he whispered against her ear, unable to keep the feelings in any longer. “I feel about you like I feel about one of my songs.”

  She pulled closer to him. “I feel the same way.”

  They danced a little while longer, and then he finally pulled away to serve her some food.

  “You must be hungry,” he said, handing her a plate.

  “These all look so tempting,” she said, studying the tray. “Besides the lobster, what else do we have here?”

  “Gruyere cheese puffs and a honey and fig chutney over some kind of homemade cracker.” He’d had the chef write down the menu in case he forgot.

  She popped one of the puffy things in her mouth and made an ummm sound, which was erotic enough to make his ears go red…and for other things to happen. He grabbed a few onto his plate to distract himself, thinking he’d have to eat a truckload of these little things if they were the main meal. Thank God his appetite had returned.

  “The chef prepared a cream of asparagus soup and a root vegetable salad for the first courses.” He glanced over to where they sat on the counter. “I hope you don’t mind us serving ourselves. I didn’t want to have anyone in the way tonight.”

  “I’m glad there’s no one else here. That would make me feel weird anyway. Let’s get our plates filled and sit in front of the fire.”

  He glanced over at the dining room door. “I have a table prepared for us all date-like.”

  “Do you now?” she asked with an impish grin. “Let’s go see.”

  When they entered the dining room, she turned and hugged him again. “Did you buy out the florist?”

  “Pretty much,” he said, not wanting to admit he’d actually bought out two of Nashville’s finest.

  She halfway skipped over to the three-foot-tall arrangement of roses in pink, red, and white displayed on the side board they’d found together. Plucking a pink rose out, she lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply.

  “You did that earlier,” he said, stepping closer to her. “That’s how I knew roses were your favorite.”

  “You’re pretty observant,” she commented, tapping the rose against his chest. “And handsome. Have I told you that tonight?”

  His eyes dropped to her mouth. He couldn’t help it. “No, but I like hearing I please you.”

  “You do,” she said softly.

  Their gazes met, and he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her properly. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you in the doorway. But I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me messing up your lipstick before our date started.”

  She played with one of the buttons on his shirt. “Don’t wait next time. I wanted you to kiss me too, but I didn’t know…well…how to tell you. I’m…this isn’t my normal.”

  He lifted her chin so he could see those beautiful moss-green eyes. “It isn’t mine either, Susannah. I know musicians have a bad rap, but I’m not one of those guys.”

  “I know that.”

  The steadiness in her voice assured him that she meant it. “Good. Now let’s eat this fancy dinner.”

  They doled out the soup from the warmer, and Susannah dotted both of their bowls with the delicate greens the chef had left.

  “This stuff looks like shamrocks to me,” he said, hovering close to her because he couldn’t stay away.

  “Watercress,” she said, sneaking a smile at his expense. “It’s good for you.”

  “You’ll probably say the root vegetable salad is too,” he fired back with a drawl. “Back home, we only ate root vegetables when money was tight.”

  “We did too, growing up,” she said, handing him his bowl. “But they’re really popular now. Likely because they contain so many vitamins and minerals.”

  He made a show of rolling his eyes, falling into this easy, familiar rhythm of flirting with her.

  “Take the soup bowls into the dining room, and I’ll serve up the salad,” she said.

  “I don’t want you to get food on your nice dress.” He looked around for a towel, and seeing one, tied it around her waist.

  “Oh, doesn’t that look lovely,” she said, gesturing to her front. “This is what my outfit was missing.”

  He couldn’t resist giving her a peck on her cheek, and when he pulled back, her whole face seemed to glow like those tealights in the den.

  Though he wanted to linger near her, he took the soup bowls into the dining room and positioned them on the dining ro
om table. The dinner plates and silverware were his, but he certainly hadn’t folded the fancy napkins into swans. That was a touch that had been added by the helper his manager had sent over. He grabbed the plates, thinking they would need them for dinner, and headed back into the kitchen.

  “Someone turned our napkins into swans, and I have to admit, it makes me feel a little guilty,” he said.

  She glanced over from spooning out what looked like turnips. “Why is that?”

  “We’re eating grouse for our main course.”

  Her lips twitched. “Swans and grouse might be related.”

  “I know,” he said, setting the plates down in the staging area. “I might have to unwrap those swans before we take the main course into the dining room. I’d hide them in the closet, but we need our napkins.”

  “Unwrap the poor guys,” she said in a serious tone, earning her another kiss. “Come on. I have the salad.”

  “Yay,” he mocked, but he took the salad plates from her. “This had better be good.”

  His manager had managed to hire one of the best personal chefs in Nashville on short notice, but still. Root vegetable salad?

  To Jake’s surprise, the salad wasn’t terrible. The tangy vinaigrette cut the earthy chalkiness he always associated with them. The soup, however, was out of this world.

  “I have to admit,” he said, trying not to rest his elbows on the table like his mama had taught him was bad manners. “I think the watercress adds something.”

  “Me too,” she said, taking another spoonful and sliding it into her luscious mouth. “Personally I love the salad more.”

  “On that, my dear, we will have to disagree.” He pushed his half-eaten salad plate forward. “I’m holding out for the grouse.”

  “Shh…” she said softly. “Don’t say that too loud. The swans might hear you.”

  Since the swans—or what had been the swans—were resting in their laps, he doubted it. “I’ll whisper about the grouse into your sweet, soft ear next time.”

  She twirled her earring and gazed at him, and since he knew the motion was meant to tempt him, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Her eyes were alight when he pulled away.

  “You can whisper into my ear anytime,” she drawled.

  When she resumed eating the root salad, he watched her. The delicate line of her jaw made his fingers itch to trace it. “I like you like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “All relaxed and natural with me. It’s…more than I imagined it would be, and I mean that in the best way possible.”

  She set her silverware on her plate. “Did you used to think about us like this? Together?”

  A feeling of vulnerability washed over him before he remembered she’d seen him at his worst. “Yeah, I did,” he choked out. “A lot.”

  Her hand rested on his forearm. “Me too. And you’re right…it’s even better. I’m glad I’m finally here, Jake. Like this.”

  “I’m glad too, Susannah.”

  And with that confession, he couldn’t help but kiss her again. She didn’t seem to be in any hurry to finish the rest of their meal, so he pulled her onto his lap and kept right on kissing her. Soon they were both breathing hard. He finally felt her push against his chest, and he immediately released her.

  “We should probably finish dinner,” she said softly, but there was a wrinkle between her eyes—one he didn’t quite understand.

  She rose and gathered up their plates before disappearing into the kitchen. He sat a moment, reviewing his steps. Had he done something wrong? She’d seemed to feel as eager as he did. Well, he couldn’t read her mind. Best ask her outright. He followed her into the kitchen.

  The roasting pan holding the grouse sat open before her, and she was brandishing a butcher knife. “Do you want me to do the carving or pick at it yourself?”

  “Ah…I don’t know,” he said, hooking his thumbs into his jeans, unsure for the first time in the evening. “They don’t look rightly big enough to carve, although the chef told me they were the finest grouse on the market. Ah…red grouse, I think. From Scotland. He said to chew carefully because the shot might still be in the bird.”

  Her horrified look might have made him laugh if these unwelcome nerves hadn’t already formed a knot in his belly.

  “Well…then we can just plate these as they are and hope neither of us has to make an emergency dentist appointment in the morning.”

  She turned back to the main course, arranging the grouse on the plates and then adding portions of wild rice and garlic spinach to each one. When she thrust the plates out at him, he took them, but only for a span of a second. He shook his head and set them aside. If he didn’t say anything now, it would be like taking a step back, and that was the last thing he wanted to do with her.

  “You and I seem to be pretty in tune with each other, so do you want to tell me why you have a line here—” he touched the spot between her brows playfully, “—after we kissed in there? And don’t tell me it’s because you’re excited about the grouse.”

  She seemed to hold her breath for a moment before letting it out slowly. “Things are…well, moving fast between us. I didn’t want you to have…any…oh, good heavens.” She closed her eyes and pressed her finger to the very spot he’d touched moments ago.

  “Surely after everything that’s happened, you can tell me what’s going on,” he said softly. “Come on, now. Why don’t you hold my hand? It can’t be all that bad.”

  As they linked hands again, forming that now familiar but no less thrilling connection, he noticed the pale pink dotting her cheeks.

  “I’m not sure if there’s ever a good time or way to say this,” she said, “but with the way things are heading between us…well, you need to know.”

  His body tightened like an over-strung guitar, trying to guess what in the world had her so riled up. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m…” She gave a nervous laugh. “I’ve been saving myself for marriage.”

  It took him a moment to comprehend what she was saying. Then he blinked. “Oh…”

  “And…I know it makes me weird and old-fashioned in this day and age, but I still believe it’s the best way for me.”

  He fought the urge to rock back on his heels. She was a virgin. Holy hell. He hadn’t really thought about it, but he supposed he should have considered it a possibility. She was a church-going preacher’s daughter. He knew what the Good Book said about pre-martial sex even though he didn’t see what all the fuss was about. If two people cared about each other, he didn’t see why they should be judged for having sex. But he respected other people’s opinions. Right now, he especially respected hers.

  “I don’t think that makes you weird,” he said, easing closer to her. “It might be a bit counter-cultural, but who the heck cares? Your values are your values. You should always do what you think is right.”

  She was biting her lip, gazing at him steadily. “But you understand what this means, right?”

  He might have eaten turnips earlier, but he hadn’t fallen off the turnip wagon. “Yes, I understand, and I won’t press you.”

  Right now, he didn’t rightly know how far their…intimate interactions could take them, but he figured she would tell him when the time came.

  “You don’t need to be concerned about it, honey,” he said, raising her hand so he could kiss the back of it. “I’ll never press you or make you uncomfortable. But you’ll…ah…need to give me some parameters, I expect, from time to time.”

  She flushed prettily at that statement and looked away. “Ah…of course.”

  He took her into his arms without any pressure so she could relax again. Her shoulders looked as tense as his felt.

  “It’ll be fine,” he said, rubbing her back.

  “You don’t mind? I mean…I was so afraid to tell you.” She pushed her head against his chest. “I was afraid to disappoint you.”

  It was like someone was clutching his very heart. “Have you
been worrying about this all afternoon? Susannah, you could never let me down. How could you even think it after everything we’ve been through?”

  She blew out another deep breath and finally looked at him. “I thought you might want to…have sex tonight.” Then her eyes rested on a place over his shoulder. “After today.”

  He let out a sigh and tipped her chin up to look at him. “I was going to let you set the pace. I care about you and how you feel. Your values…they make you who you are. That could never disappoint me, and I’d never want to change you.”

  “I’m glad you can understand,” she said, although she still seemed to be struggling to breathe.

  He kissed her softly on the lips. “Don’t give it another thought. We’ll figure it out.”

  “Good,” she said, giving a shaky laugh. “Because I really like having you hold me and kiss me.”

  Yeah, so did he. He’d just have to restrain the urge to want more than that. Moving forward, he’d have to be even more sensitive to her moods and wishes when it came to touching her. There was no way he was going to hurt her or let her down by making her uncomfortable.

  “I like that too. Now we should eat before that red Scottish grouse thing needs to be microwaved.”

  She nodded, and he let her grab the plates since she all but lunged for them. It was clear she was anxious for something to do with her hands.

  And darn it all, he had to admit that part of him liked knowing she hadn’t been with another man. He took a moment to dream that he might be worthy of marrying her one day. That he might be lucky enough to make love to her and be her one and only for the rest of her life.

  Setting aside thoughts of the future, he followed her to the table, and they dug into the grouse. Truth be told, it was more like spearing the little guy. There wasn’t much meat on it, but what was there tasted pretty good. There was a trace of game meat, but thankfully no shot. He polished off his sides in an effort to fill his belly, hoping dessert would be more robust.

  She was still picking at her meat all delicate-like, and he took a moment to watch her.