by Barb Curtis
Since the night she’d read Tim’s heartfelt post the week before, they’d connected on some deeper level. They weren’t jumbling words or snickering over sexual innuendo anymore. The proverbial ice had been broken, and hopefully the crack would never fill in again.
Still, in the privacy of Tim’s kitchen, with one thing leading to a sensational other, he’d kept it PG. He could’ve cleared the kitchen table with one sweep of his arm, but instead they’d spent the night cuddling on his couch, just talking. Not that she was complaining. The night moved their relationship forward in a way that she wasn’t sure would have taken place had they just ripped each other’s clothes off.
She’d probably never stop replaying his confession to having feelings for her over in her head. And he’d been honest about his hang-ups, which she had to give him credit for. He’d been dragged through the dirt by Melissa, and Emily would have to remind herself to be patient and understanding of the fact that he wasn’t ready to just dive headfirst into another relationship.
A bouquet of pink roses stood on the counter at Tesoro. Tim had them delivered in the afternoon with a card that said Looking forward to tonight.
She grabbed them and locked up shop to go upstairs and get ready for their Valentine’s dinner. Other than the fact that it was one of her most profitable events of the year, Emily wasn’t overly into Valentine’s Day. Most years it had been nothing but a reminder that she was still single.
So tonight was about giving Tim a glimpse of what he’d been oblivious to all these years. She’d bought a killer red dress that matched her mani-pedi perfectly, and all those shoes he’d wondered if she ever wore? He was about to see the best of the best.
Because her nerves had her a bit on edge, she poured a glass of wine and turned on some music while she primped. She took some time, styling her hair into chunky waves, and applied a sexy smoky eye. In her dimly lit bedroom, she slid her feet into strappy stilettos and took one last look in the full-length mirror as he knocked on the door.
Tim was smiling when she opened the door, but his smile vanished as his eyes traveled down the length of her and his mouth gaped open. “Wow. You look amazing.”
“It’s not too much red?” A rise of confidence prompted a little spin around so he could fully appreciate the dress and the black stockings with the sexy seam up the back of the leg.
When she faced him again, he shook his head, eyes still trailing up and down. “No such thing as too much red.”
She dug her black coat out of the closet, and he helped her into it.
When they stepped out onto the street, he placed an arm around her. “The sidewalks are a little icy. Thankfully, we don’t have far to walk.”
They rounded the corner to Nightingale Street and strolled toward the inn, holding hands. Inside, they were seated at a small table near the window. A single white rose stood in the center of the table, and the server lit a candle. Tim ordered a bottle of wine while Emily browsed the menu.
He glanced up from his menu. “I hope you don’t mind, I went ahead and ordered our first course ahead of time.”
Emily blinked a couple of times. He’d ordered for her? Damn it, she hated when guys did that. It was so presumptuous. How could he not know that would infuriate her?
She darted her eyes away. How did she hide her disappointment? “It’s, um, it’s fine,” she managed, her voice sounding small.
Tim’s lip twitched ever so slightly, and he rubbed a hand across his mouth. “Good. I love choosing what my date is going to eat.”
Of all the…Did the guy even know her at all?
His shoulders started to shake, and then laughter tumbled out of him. “I’m just messing with you.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “For a second there you thought I’d turned into a total ass, didn’t you?”
A rush of breath tumbled out of her followed by laughter. She pressed her forehead into her palm. “I was in shock that you’d order for me.”
“No kidding, I could tell by your gaping mouth.” He tipped his head back, laughing. “I’d never do that to you.”
The inn was the perfect place for an intimate dinner. Tim filled Emily in on Leyna’s apology, and she was glad her friend had cut Tim some slack. The incident with the picture was hardly intentional, and he’d felt awful. Then they chatted about their week and the growing number of syrup producers contacting them to express their interest in taking part in the festival.
At the end of their date, they stood outside her door, fingers linked together, and he kissed her until she felt like she was floating. God, she wanted to grab the lapel of his soft jacket and drag him inside her apartment. But what if sleeping with him changed everything?
“I can tell you’re fretting,” he said between kisses. “You don’t have to feel pressured to invite me in. This new thing between us is a curveball neither of us expected.”
He backed up a little and smoothed her hair away from her face, speaking in a low voice. “There’s nothing wrong with taking some time to figure things out. If we end up going there, I want to know you’re really sure.”
She leaned her head against the door, a hand still resting on his warm chest. “I do want to. I just want to make sure it isn’t going to change our friendship or make things weird. Mostly, I want to make sure you’re not going to change your mind—that you’re not just having a momentary lapse of judgment.”
In the dim light of the hallway, he searched her face before taking both of her hands. “You think I’m into you because I’m having a momentary lapse of judgment? Christ, Em, I’d never mess with you that way.” He paused a few seconds before going on. “I can understand your concern after the conversations we’ve had about relationships these last few months. I haven’t exactly hid the fact that I’m…skeptical about happy endings. But please, don’t question my judgment when it comes to you, okay? I might not have all the answers right this minute, but I do know that I had a really great time tonight, and I’d like to do it again.”
He kissed her again and hugged her, which struck her as incredibly sweet. Despite his many declarations that he was done with relationships, he seemed to be cracking the door open a little, which, for now, was enough.
She smoothed her hand over his lapel. “I had a great time, too. You really had me going for a minute though, when you pretended to order for me.”
“I could tell by the panic on your face.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her fingers. “Good night, Em,” he said softly before heading upstairs.
Inside her apartment, she slipped out of her shoes and pulled off her stockings. Because of the busy week of orders, she’d hit that stage of tired where she was functioning entirely on adrenaline, so she looked for something mindless to watch on television.
She pulled her hair up into a messy bun and opted for the sconce lights in the living room, illuminating the brick walls. She chose a bottle of cabernet sauvignon from Wynter Estate and mangled the cork until she got it out.
Ending Valentine’s Day drinking alone was not a first, unfortunately.
Settled on the couch, she picked up the remote and scrolled through the TV guide. Love Actually was coming on the women’s network. Sweet. While the opening credits started, she sipped her wine and pulled a fluffy white blanket around her bare legs.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw her phone light up with a text.
Tim—What are you doing?
She texted him back that she was drinking wine and watching Love Actually.
Tim—Beer for me. Isn’t that a Christmas movie?
It’s a romantic comedy that happens to take place at Christmas. Perfectly appropriate for Valentine’s Day. Never gets old, she told him, and gave him the channel.
Seconds after she replied, he said Thanks with heart eyes.
She pulled the blanket around her chin and got comfy.
Tim—That’s Rick from TWD!!
Yes, she wrote back.
Tim—Is this gu
y for real? He’s secretly in love with the girl his best friend is marrying? #pathetic
Emily bit her lip. Was it pathetic to be secretly in love with someone? She sure hoped not. Her thumbs flew over the screen. Not pathetic, he’s torn apart. He loves her, but thinks he can never have her. Like he’s missed his opportunity.
Tim—Which is crazy. If he loves her, he should say something. Not that I think he should screw over his best friend, but if he never says anything she’ll never know how he feels. He could be robbing her of choices by staying silent.
Hmmm. Interesting perspective. Unsure how to respond, she simply typed I know, right?
Heading to the kitchen for some water, she hummed a tune from the movie that would likely be stuck in her head for days to come. Seriously though, was Tim going to think she was a total loser if he ever found out she’d had a thing for him this long?
Tim kept the commentary going most of the movie. She was getting a kick out of it. Near the end, he sent another text.
Tim—Those cue cards are a rip off of Bob Dylan’s Subterranean Homesick Blues.
Shut up, it’s adorable. You’re distracting me from my favorite part of the whole movie. You know you could have just come down and watched it with me.
Tim—You never invited me lol
Invite him, idiot, urged her inner voice.
Or was that the wine talking?
She bit her lip while she crafted a nonchalant text.
It isn’t too late