Her body shifted, angled toward me. “How about a tour of your place?”
It was the last thing I thought she would say but the first thing I wanted to hear. “My place is a disaster.” I warned. “It’s still a construction zone.”
“I want to see.” She cajoled.
“C’mon, then,” I said, holding out my hand, hoping she would take it.
She did, a smile lighting her face.
I’d parked around the back of Loch Gen since I’d worked this morning. We jogged around the back, and then I loaded her giant pumpkin into the bed before driving off. We drove with the windows down. The air was cold, but she seemed not to care. Her fingertips trailed out the window, catching the wind. Golden strands of hair blew around her face, and it was as if she were letting go of whatever seemed to try and drag her down.
The trip to my place was short, and I turned off the road down a driveway that wasn’t really. It used to be, but it was overgrown now, the gravel that used to be here pretty much all gone. It was on my list of things to do, but my top priority was the house.
“It’s so cute,” she said, sitting forward when I drove up.
“That’s not the look I was going for,” I muttered, shutting off the engine.
“It’s like a little cabin,” she exclaimed and flung open her door.
I joined her at the front of the truck, looking at my place. “That’s what it was used for years ago. A vacation cabin because it’s on the lake.”
Amnesia followed my gaze past the house, across the yard to where the lake met land. “What a beautiful view.”
“The lake calls me,” I said simply.
“I can see why,” she whispered.
If you only knew.
Sometimes I wanted to blurt out everything they told me not to. There were moments when I was so sure it nearly spilled out of my every pore. I was tempted to just start talking, spill my guts, and see if anything lit up her eyes with recognition.
I didn’t. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her more.
“The wood is beautiful,” she murmured, wandering to the house and rubbing her palm along the weathered boards.
“Thanks. Most of it is original, but some of it had to be replaced. I found this old barn about twenty miles from here. They let me salvage some of the wood, so I used that to replace what needed it.”
“You did all this yourself?” she asked, gazing up at me in awe.
I loved that look in her eyes. I wanted to see it more.
“Yeah. I had some help. My dad, some of my buddies.”
“I haven’t met any of your buddies,” she said, scowling.
I caught her around the waist. “Because I want you all to myself.”
The smile in her eyes slowly drained away.
“Kiss me, Am,” I told her.
Her lips pressed together. I saw temptation in her eyes. I waited, still holding her. Slowly, she lifted up on tiptoes, bringing her face close.
My eyes shut, lips tingling with want.
“Eddie,” she whispered, still incredibly close.
I opened my eyes. “Kissing doesn’t require talking.”
She smiled. “I’ve never kissed anyone before. What if I do it wrong?”
I laughed. “Kiss me wrong?”
She nodded sagely.
“Baby, there is no such thing as a wrong kiss from you.”
“You kiss me,” she said.
“No.”
Her eyes widened with shock, and she drew back slightly. “What?”
“You want these lips, come get ‘em,” I said.
A stubborn glint came over her expression and so did desire in the depths of her brown eyes. I smiled, and her lips pressed fully against mine.
My heart jackhammered against my ribs and my fingers quaked with need. I held still, though, forcing myself to let her take the lead. Her lips whispered across mine, pulled back, then did it again.
Her hand lay flat against my chest, palm gliding up to curve around the back of my neck, and she pulled me down.
The second her tongue slipped across mine, all bets were off. With a groan, I wrapped her close and kissed her with reckless abandon.
She moaned when my tongue swept deep and my lips slanted across hers.
We kissed until my lungs burned and spots swam before my closed eyes. I ripped away, only because I had to. The sound of our ragged breathing was proof passion burned between us.
“Good Lord, woman,” I drawled. “You can kiss me anytime.”
She giggled, but I knew she was pleased with herself.
The front of my cabin was pretty boring, all wood and windows and not much else. All the stuff to look at was around to the “back,” which was really the front. Houses that faced the lake always looked plainest on the side that faced the road.
The front of my place had a small porch with just enough room for chairs to sit and watch the water. There was a screen door because there wasn’t anything quite like a lakeshore breeze. The inside was pretty barebones because I really was working on fixing it up.
“This is beautiful,” Am murmured, running a hand along one of the cabinets in the kitchen.
“Woodworking is kind of a hobby,” I said.
“You built these cabinets?” she asked, her eyes swinging to mine.
I nodded. “I like to work with my hands.”
Her cheeks pinked, a color that looked very good on her. “The kitchen is gorgeous.”
“I’ve done most of the work in here,” I explained. “And the bathroom, my bedroom. I’m just now getting to the other rooms.”
It was a simple house with a kitchen, a living room, and fireplace. There were only two bedrooms, likely the reason this place stopped renting out and sort of fell in disrepair. Most people wanted larger houses to vacation in because most families were big. But I was just me, and this place was the right price and on the water.
Eventually, I could build onto it if I ever needed more space. The land was the most valuable thing here anyway.
She didn’t go down the hallway or ask about my bedroom, and I didn’t bring it up. Her standing in my bedroom would test my patience anyway. Hell, just having her wander through my house, seeing her here, watching her admire all the work I’d put into the remodel was enough to do that.
She belonged here. With me. This wasn’t just my house. It was ours.
I wanted to tell her that, but I held back.
“Thank you for showing me,” she said, moving to the door, gazing out.
Reaching around her, I pushed open the screen and motioned for her to go outside. On the porch, she turned toward the water, gazing out.
“What’s that over there?” she asked, pointing toward the island.
“Rumor Island,” I answered. “It’s a private island about a mile or so from shore.”
“Someone lives there?” she asked.
“Yeah, a reclusive woman.”
She turned to me. “Why’s it called Rumor Island?”
I smiled. “Why else? There’s lots of rumors about it.”
Her eyes lit up. “Tell me.”
“How about I tell you over dinner?” I suggested.
Her stomach growled. “I could eat.”
I laughed. “Clearly.”
“Maples?” she asked, naming off the place on Main Street she knew. I always brought her burgers and salads from there when she was in the hospital.
I tilted my head, considering. “How about Lobster Shack?”