“No way! I’m not pulling those stitches,” she replied, but he lifted her out of the truck, setting her feet on the ground with just one arm.
She laughed and pulled back as soon as she had her balance. “Okay, lead the way.”
He looked down at her. “How often do you let a man take you out into the woods to a place you don’t recognize?”
Abby looked up at him, all amusement gone. “Never, Zeke. In fact, in the past, I wouldn’t even allow a man to drive me to a date. I generally met my dates at the restaurant or coffee shop until I felt more comfortable with him.”
He stared at her for a long moment before he said, “So, what makes me different?”
She frowned thoughtfully, not exactly sure how to answer his question. “I can’t explain it. You’re just…different,” she admitted with a slight shrug.
There was a silence as they absorbed her words and the meaning behind them. Then Zeke lowered his head, brushing his lips over hers tenderly. Zeke took her hand and led her deeper into the woods.
After several minutes of walking, Abby heard the rushing water. “What is this place?” she asked.
“Wait for it,” he said, a teasing note to his voice. “It’s just around this bend in the path.”
They turned on a barely used path and…! “Oh Zeke!” she whispered. Right in front of her was a small waterfall that flowed over large stones, surrounded by weeping willows that draped softly over the banks, the long tendrils of the weeping willow branches dipping gracefully into the water. Because the days were longer, the sun still dappled through the leaves, but it wasn’t hot. Although it wasn’t too cool either. The temperature was perfect for a spring picnic.
“This is amazing!” she whispered, leaning her shoulder against his side, unconsciously needing to touch him, to feel the strength of him against her side.
“I’m glad that you like it,” he replied. He pulled a blanket out of one of the bags and spread it out over the grass. “Have a seat.” He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of wine, several types of cheese, a loaf of crusty bread, grapes, and a tin of cookies. Homemade cookies!
“This looks wonderful,” she told him, taking each of the containers and peering into them as soon as he handed it to her.
“Good. I hope you’re hungry.”
For the next two hours, they sat on the blanket sampling different cheeses and bread along with grapes, talking about their lives and preferences, laughing at teenage foibles and college aspirations. When she’d had enough, he finally handed her the container of cookies. “I don’t know what kind you like, so take your pick.”
Abby removed the lid and discovered several different types of homemade cookies. “Who made these?” she asked, debating over what looked like a caramel cookie versus a peanut butter cookie.
“I did.”
She’d just picked up a peanut butter cookie when he said that. Unfortunately, she couldn’t read his expression, and he popped a cookie into his mouth, so she couldn’t determine if he was serious.
“No, really,” she urged, nibbling on the cookie, then pausing as she let the creamy taste wash over her. “Oh, this is delicious!”
“Cinnamon,” he explained.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I add cinnamon to the cookie dough before I bake them. Makes all the difference.”
Her eyes widened, but she wasn’t sure if she should believe him, or if Zeke was pulling her leg. “Um…”
“It’s true,” he assured her. “I also put brandy extract into my chocolate chip cookies. Makes them much better.”
She swallowed, and looked at him again. “You’re serious. You baked these cookies?”
“Sure. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you’re a guy! And a hulk-guy! I just can’t picture you baking.”
He shrugged. “I’m an excellent baker. Especially bread. I love experimenting with bread. It’s pretty complicated, and yet, there are generally only a few ingredients. But if just one thing goes wrong, or the ingredients aren’t incorporated at the right time, in the right order, the bread is a failure.” He popped another cookie in his mouth, and leaned back on his elbows. “I make my own pizza crust too. I can make it and freeze it, then just pull it out in the morning to defrost in time for a pizza dinner. My crust is much better than anything you’ll find at a takeout place. And bread? Seriously, there’s nothing better than fresh baked bread on a Saturday morning. Sometimes, I’ll make the bread on Friday night and leave it to rise overnight. Then all I need to do is put it in the oven the following morning and wait for it to bake.”
She twisted around, listening to him but still struggling to believe he baked. “Right,” she laughed, assuming he was teasing her.
Zeke chuckled as he watched Abby take another cookie out of the container. He suspected that she didn’t believe him, but that was okay. He knew exactly how to convince her. As soon as she got over this need to hold off on a more physical relationship, he would implement that plan. Until then, he was truly enjoying talking with her, spending time with her. She had a great smile and was a great listener.
“Did medical school teach you to be a good listener?”
She was startled by the question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he said, reaching out to tug her closer, “that you’re so easy to talk to. You really seem to care what another person is saying. Did they teach you how to listen while in med school or is that something you grew up with?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “I learned it from my father.”
“He was good at telling stories?”
Abby rolled her eyes and, for some reason, his gut tightened in anticipation of whatever she was about to say. “I guess you could say that. My father was a Navy SEAL and couldn’t talk about what he was doing when he disappeared. From a very young age, I learned to listen to what he wasn’t telling me. I’d watch his facial expressions. I seemed to know when he was lying to me. And as I grew older, I learned to distinguish when he was lying because he couldn’t tell me something, and when he was lying so that he could tease me.”
“You didn’t get along with your parents?” Zeke didn’t mention that he wasn’t allowed to tell her a lot of what he did either. When he left on a mission, there was absolute secrecy to protect her as well as the team. If anyone even suspected that she might know where he and his teams had gone, she would be in danger.
He made the decision right then that he wouldn’t lie to her. He might not be able to tell her the whole truth, but Zeke didn’t want her to have any reason to distrust him.
“Oh no! I got along with them fine. Better than fine!” She grinned. “I wasn’t one of those moody, rebellious teenagers. I got good grades, took advanced classes, and gave them plenty of bragging rights.”
“And probably dated plenty of boys too.”
She snorted. “Did I mention that my father was a Navy SEAL? Everyone in my class knew that and every one of the boys was terrified of what my father might do to them if they even glanced in my direction. So no. I didn’t date much in high school. Only a few of the boys were brave enough to approach me and, of those, none of them were brave enough to make a move on me. My curfew was nine o’clock on the weekdays and eleven o’clock on weekends. That meant that I was usually home by ten forty-five on any date I went on because the boys were terrified of what my father would do if I came home late.”