Page 33 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

His eyes widen in surprise. “You did?”

Staring at the notepad, I start scribbling the title to the lists, one for him and one for me.

“Yeah, I did it online a few years ago.”

“How come I never knew this? What is it in?”

“English,” I reply. “I actually finished my last class on the ten-year anniversary of my mom’s passing.”

You can almost hear the silence resting between us. “She’d be so fucking proud of you, Laney.”

When I lift my eyes to find Fletcher staring down at me, something passes between us, but I can’t put a name to the feeling. “Thank you. I’d like to think so too.”

“Just so you know, I’m still counting those thank-yous.”

I roll my eyes and head back to my chair. “Let’s get this done, shall we?”

He lets out a heavy breath and then makes his way over to the table, taking the seat next to mine. When our knees brush, I move away, but he pulls my knee back to his and rests his hand there.

My body temperature instantly rises.

Clearing my throat, I try to focus back on the reason we’re here. “So, we have less than seventy-two hours until this party, and no concept of a plan. My dad said we can have it at the winery, which I think is better than the ski lodge. But we need a theme, food, decorations, games…”

Fletcher blows out a breath again. “Okay, let’s do a Vegas theme…”

“Is that because you would have preferred to be there right now instead of here in Blossom Peak?”

The corner of his mouth lifts as his thumb rubs my kneecap, his eyes locked on mine. “Actually, I’m rather enjoying my time in Blossom Peak.”

Is he talking in general, or right at this moment, here with me?

It doesn’t matter, Laney. Focus.

“Oh. Okay, well Vegas would work,” I continue, bypassing his comment while simultaneously trying to decipher it. “Elliot would love that.”

Fletcher chuckles to himself before sitting up tall in his seat, his hand still on my leg. “That’s what I’m thinking. We can have poker and blackjack tables, slot machines, and everything in black, gold, and red.”

I drop my pen to my notepad. “Great ideas, but uh—how do you plan on getting all of this stuff by Saturday, Fletcher?”

His smirk grows. “You’d be surprised what you can get done when you know people and have a credit card with no limit, Laney.”

I know his comment is meant to make me feel less stressed about the situation, but all it does is remind me of how different his life is now—how when he goes back to Charlotte after this wedding, that’s the kind of reality he returns to.

That’s why you need to focus on the here and now, Laney. Stuff like that doesn’t matter.

I pick up my pen and finish my note. “Okay then. You’re in charge of all of that, and I’ll handle food and games.”

“I told you, we can do poker—”

“We need something else too, not just cards.” Tapping my chin with my pen, I think for a moment, but ultimately shake my head when the ideas don’t come. “I’ll think of something.”

“Do you want me to get alcohol too?”

“Obviously we’ll have wine, but I’m sure hard liquor and beer would be good to have too.” I scribble the details of what we discussed and who is responsible for what in the two separate columns. “Anything else?”

“Does Rhonan still drink Pappy Van Winkle?” Fletcher asks, surprising me.

“Uh, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him drink bourbon in a long time. Although, after the other night, I’m sure he could use a glass.”

“What happened the other night?”

I put my pen back down and lean back in my chair. “Sunday night we had dinner at his house with my dad, and he’s trying to teach Ellis how to ride her bike without training wheels. Let’s just say it’s not going well.”

Fletcher laughs. “I see. Well, I was thinking I could grab a bottle for us boys. I don’t drink anymore, but…”

“Wait. You don’t drink? Like ever?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Haven’t since I got drafted.”

“But…why?”

The tilt of his head should alert me to the reason, but when his words follow, all they do is remind me of our history. “Come on, Laney. I’m sure you already know the answer to that question.”

“You’re not him, Fletcher.”

“And I never will be.” He stands from his chair, pushing a hand through his hair since he didn’t wear his signature hat tonight. “I just didn’t want to risk it.” When he glances at the clock on the wall, he sighs. “It’s getting late.”

I didn’t realize it’s been almost two hours since he arrived, but that really shouldn’t surprise me.

Time always passed slowly when Fletcher and I talked years ago.

Last week, I would have told you that being in his presence would have felt like being stuck in a time warp where everything slowed down, but honestly?

Each time Fletcher and I have been together since he arrived in town has felt like it’s slipped away in a blink of an eye.

Even our little rendezvous at the bar the other night and in my office on Monday wasn’t long enough.

“Oh, yeah. It is.” I take a picture of the list and send it to him. “There. Now you have a copy of what we agreed to.”

“That wasn’t necessary, but thank you.” He moves for the front door, and as I watch him, I remember what he said yesterday.

The text messages. The flirting. Fletcher promised he’d touch me again, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen anymore.

Disappointment builds in my chest—and even though I want to believe it’s only because I’ve been thinking about him making me come again since it happened the last time in my office, the reality is that part of me doesn’t want him to leave for other reasons—reasons I shouldn’t be thinking about.

Before I can catch myself though, my libido takes the reins of my mind. “So that’s it? You’re just leaving?”

With his hand on the front door handle, he turns to look at me over his shoulder. “I mean, we have the details of the party decided. Is there something else we were supposed to do tonight?”

Our eyes lock, but after a few seconds, I break the stare. Shaking my head, I turn away from him. “Forget it.”

Suddenly, he’s at my side. His fingers wrap around my upper arm, his skin warm and his touch possessive, but not overly so. “Use your words, angel. You’ve got to tell me what you want. I’m not a damn mind reader.”

Closing my eyes, I prepare to speak. “I—I thought you were going to make me…”

“Make you what?” His hot breath skates across the skin at my neck.

“Come.”

“You thought, or you want? Be clear, Laney.”

He’s giving you the chance to speak up, Laney, just like you decided you were going to from now on.

With much more conviction, I straighten my spine and say, “I—I want you to make me come, Fletcher. Please.”

I can practically hear his smile. “Attagirl. Now let me take care of you, angel.”