“Sure, I get it, a gentleman doesn’t talk about his lady.” He nodded in understanding but his grin was literally from ear to ear. The big idiot.
I felt myself return his smile. I just couldn’t stop it. That was definitely Annabelle’s fault.
“She’s not my lady.” I don’t know why I felt compelled to correct him, but there was a part of me that resisted staking a claim on her, because if I did, I was sure I’d lose her just like I’d lost everyone I’d ever considered my own.
His smile vanished. He raised one eyebrow at me and said, “A man waits a lifetime for a woman like Annabelle. For your own sake, do not fuck this up.”
“There’s nothing to fuck up,” I said. “I don’t do long term and Annabelle knows that.”
He stared at me for a moment and then shook his head, saying what he thought without actually saying it. In Jackson’s opinion, I was too stupid to live.
I thought about defending my position. The old me would have. I would have insisted that no relationship was meant to last more than a season, but it hit me then that I wanted this one to last the three months and possibly more. I had a feeling it would take me at least that long to get enough of whatever this crazy energy was between us. I felt a flash of anxiety at the note I’d left for Annabelle this morning.
It had lacked finesse, endearments, or any sort of charm whatsoever. If I were her, would I show up here at seven, not knowing what to expect? I thought of her with her carefree smile, gypsy eyes, and goddess body. Yes, she would show, because she was reckless and impulsive and I really lo—liked, I really liked that about her.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got this.” I didn’t have shit. I knew it and I knew Jackson knew it, too. Naturally, I did what all damaged men do when faced with uncomfortable emotions. I ignored them. I rose to standing, pleased to see that my leg felt stronger than it had in ages. Had sex been what was missing? I liked that theory. “Come on, let’s get to it.”
We spent the morning working out, and I pushed myself harder than I had ever dared before. I only caught myself smiling stupidly at nothing once or twice, okay four times but that was it. I swear.
* * *
At seven minutes past seven, I glanced at the clock for what must have been the hundredth time. She was seven minutes late. I glanced down at the guest house, looking for any sign of Annabelle. The lights were out. The place was empty. It could be she hadn’t gotten my note. Or maybe she was blowing me off. Perhaps for her, last night had been a one and done. The amount of unhappiness I felt at the thought was unbecoming, to put it mildly.
I had given the Guzmans and Jackson the night off, assuming that Annabelle would be here with me. When I’d asked Lupita to make a dinner for two that I could heat up later, she had beamed at me, like I hadn’t just asked her to do extra work, and set right to it.
Directions on an index card in her neat hand sat on the quartz countertop, while the prepped food had been stored in the refrigerator until it was ready to be cooked. Salmon on a bed of rice with asparagus, melt-in-your-mouth Parker House rolls, and a papaya mousse for dessert. I really didn’t deserve that woman despite how much I paid her.
I glanced at the clock. Seven ten. She was standing me up. I was sure of it.
I paced, not caring if I had another stroke and my leg gave out and I fell on my face. It would just be a physical manifestation of the emotional angst I was in. In the living room, I slumped onto my couch, feeling defeated and a little depressed. Had last night not meant the same thing to Annabelle that it had to me? What did it mean to me? I slapped that thought away as soon as it flitted into my head.
I was debating what to have with my double portion dinner for one, whiskey or beer, when there was a soft knock on the front door. I bolted upright, did a quick finger-comb of my hair, and smoothed down my shirt.
Christ, I was nervous. I hadn’t been nervous around a woman since I was in middle school and had the misfortune to be in Ms. Madison’s algebra class. There wasn’t a heterosexual boy in that class who didn’t crush on her. It was a wonder any of us were able to pass a class where our hormones ran rampant, leaving us scrambling to find x while wondering y we even had to. Punny, I know.
I strode to the door, not even thinking about my leg, my arm, or my potential for another stroke. I just wanted to see her.
I yanked open the door and there she was. Breathtakingly lovely in a navy dress with a pretty scarf, her hair twisted into a knot on the top of her head.
“Hi.” Her voice was soft. “Just so I know, is this the moment when you kick me out for fraternizing with my landlord?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. I had no idea what she said. I was too busy staring at her, taking in every bit of her from the stray curls that framed her face to her cherry red lipstick to the dress that hugged her curves the way I wanted to.
“What?” She looked stricken.
“Huh?” I shook my head. “No, wait, oh hell . . .”
I couldn’t stand it, the whole two feet of space between us, anymore. I reached out and snatched her close and then I kissed her. Everything in my world clicked right into place the moment my lips met hers.
She was sweet, effervescent Annabelle, and if I could drown in her, I would. I slid my mouth down the side of her neck, tugging her scarf out of the way. Her fingers dug into my hair and she pulled me back and kissed me as if she’d been waiting for this moment all day. A low moan sounded in her throat. It was the same sound she’d made last night, and it hit me like a trigger.
I pulled her into the house and pushed her back against the closed door. I had no idea if we kissed for minutes or hours or days. If I could have spent eternity like this, I would. When she finally broke the kiss, we were both breathing heavily, and I could feel my heart racing in my chest. For once, it didn’t cause me any panic. I knew why it was beating so hard. It was because of her. It just wanted to be near her. I totally understood.
“Come on,” Annabelle said. She grabbed my hand with hers. “We have to go.”
“What?” I asked. “But I have dinner.”
“Is it already cooked?” she asked.
“No, just prepped,” I said.
“Good, then it can wait,” she said. “Come on.”
She grabbed my hand in hers and dragged me out the door.
“But where—”
“Trust me,” she said. She didn’t give me a chance to think it over. She pulled me through the door and into the night.
She walked beside me down the steps as if afraid I might collapse and fall at any moment and she’d be there to catch me. I glanced at her. She was on the tall side but she was not muscular. I would squash her like a bug. When we got to the bottom of the stairs, she stopped in front of a black Jeep. She opened the passenger door and said, “Sorry I was late. I was out picking this bad boy up. Get in.”