“Financially, I get it,” he said. “I do. But emotionally? That’s going over and above with their expectations.”
She met his gaze. “Says the man who bought his mom a house and keeps his grandpa in sight and takes care of him. So tell me how exactly we’re different?”
“My mom was always there for me,” he said. “Always. I had to practically drag her out of her run-down dump into the house I bought for her because she didn’t want me to spend my money on her. She never does. Two years ago for Christmas, I gave her something she never had, something she always wanted—a retirement fund. What did she do? She changed it into my name.” He shook his head. “So last year I tried to outsmart her. I bought her something I knew she’d always secretly dreamed of—an all-expenses-paid vacation cruise to a bunch of Greek islands.”
“I take it she didn’t go.”
“Nope. She cashed it in and donated the money to my favorite charity.”
She stared at him and then laughed a little. “I think I’d like her.”
“And she’d like you,” he said. “But my point is that she spent most of her life dirt poor. She’s never had it easy, but at no point in our lives has she ever dumped her entire life on me and made me responsible for her. I don’t have siblings, but knowing what I know about her, she’d never let me take on responsibility for them either.”
She closed her eyes. “I wasn’t going to let you in,” she whispered.
“I’ve had my mouth on every inch of your gorgeous body,” he said. “And vice versa.” At just the memory, his glasses fogged up and his voice fell an octave. “So it’s a little late for that.”
She blushed and bit her lower lip. “You know I didn’t mean physically. I meant . . .” She tapped her temple.
Yeah. He knew. And he’d been sure of the exact same thing. But when it came right down to it, his brain wasn’t always in charge. His heart was.
And no matter what, watching her walk away was going to suck.
“Your mom sounds like she’s a really strong woman,” she said.
“She is.”
She shook her head. “My mom isn’t like that. For as long as I can remember, she’s been the victim, and she enjoys the role. I stepped in early because she needed me and . . . well, she’s never stopped needing me. Emotionally, financially, mentally.”
Her mom, who should’ve known better, had early on handed over her reins to Colbie, who’d been far too young to take it all on. But take it on she had, giving up her own childhood in the process. Spence was starting to understand the depth of her sense of responsibility, as a woman, a daughter, a sister, a writer. “Not your job,” he said.
“I know. And I never meant to create a codependent relationship, believe me,” she said. “I just wanted to help.”
“And you have. And more than with just your family.”
“You mean Jackson.”
“He cheated on you?” Spence asked, trying to get a bead on what she might still feel for this guy.
She blew out a breath. “I made more of what we had than it was. I had a very longtime crush on him and mistook friendship and business for love. It wasn’t.”
“And now he’s using that friendship and business to manipulate you into returning before you’re ready.”
She shrugged.
“Colbie . . .” He took her hand. “Don’t let it do a number on you.”
She laughed softly. “Baby steps.”
“Baby steps,” he agreed and kept ahold of her hand.
They ate, and when they were done, Spence pulled Colbie up.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Your list.”
“We did everything on my list,” she said and finally gave him a real smile.
He returned it. “There’s something you forgot to put on the list. Trust me?” he asked, not sure she would or why he wanted her to so badly.
But when she looked at his outstretched hand, nodded, and put hers in his, he felt like he’d won the lotto.
“What are we doing?” Colbie asked as Spence pulled the ’57 Chevy truck into traffic.
“You’ll see,” he said enigmatically.
Okaaay. Her phone buzzed.
Spence glanced over at her.
She sighed and pulled out her phone. “It’s a text from Kent. He wants to know how to run the washing machine.”
“Better late than never.”
She typed out a response and put her phone away. “Hope he separated his colors from his whites.”
“Rite of passage, making that mistake—which he’ll only do once.” Spence took a street that was a straight-up hill, the likes of which she’d never seen before, even in San Francisco, and that was saying something. They parked in a large lot that appeared nearly empty and then . . . they took a trail.
In the middle of the city. It was boggling.
She looked at Spence ahead of her, leading the way in his wrinkled cargos that fit across his very nice ass. He craned his neck and caught her ogling, flashing her a smile. He wore a backward baseball cap and his prescription aviator sunglasses lenses were dark.
The sexiest, hottest geek she’d ever seen.
“Where are we?” she asked, mesmerized by the 360-degree vista they had at the top, as well as the huge white concrete cross protruding out of the ground.
“Mount Davidson,” he said. “It’s the highest point in the city, which at 938 feet isn’t all that high compared to the rest of the planet but it’s what we’ve got.”
“And the cross?”
“People come here at Easter for an annual prayer service. They illuminate the cross.” He’d grabbed his beat-up duffle bag from his truck and worn it on a broad shoulder to walk up here. Now he opened it up and took out a small drone, along with a control panel.
It took him no more than two minutes to have the drone in the air, broadcasting to an iPad fitted to the controller. Colbie didn’t know what to look at first, the drone rising and dipping in the sky like an eagle, the tablet sending them the dizzying, glorious images in real time, or the man himself at the controls like he’d been born to it.
He stood there, feet spread to brace against the wind, concentrating on the tablet screen, monitoring the craft’s progress through its onboard camera.
And then he handed her those controls.
“What? No—” She tried to take a step back but he just shoved the controller in her hand and let go, so that if she didn’t take it, the thing would’ve fallen to the ground. And so would the drone, and she couldn’t even imagine how expensive it might be. “Some ditch! Spence!”
His head was tipped back, his gaze on the drone in the sky. “Going to want to accelerate between now and five seconds from now,” he said casually.
He was crazy. “I know your brain can handle like fifty things at once, but mine tops out at around two. Anything over that and it all shorts out.” She waggled her fingers beside her head in a gesture to indicate her brain was frying.
He laughed.