Page 54 of At First Smile

I open the door to find him on the porch, a pink pastry box in his hand.

The emotions from the call with my mother are replaced by a giant grin.

Wes’s velvety baritone is utterly distinct, allowing me to recognize his voice, but I adore how every time he greets me, he identifies who he is, so there’s no mistake.

“This is for you.” He opens the box.

“Is that…”

“A baklava croissant from Bread.”

Bouncing on my feet, I take the box and gesture for him to come in. “So sweet… but you’re going to have to help me eat this. Did you come all the way out here just to bring me this?”

“Nope.” His tone is teasingly playful, like a child who knows a secret.

My eyebrow arches. “What shenanigans are you up to?”

“Being the best damn best friend ever.” He pulls out his phone. “I have a message for you.”

“Hey, luv.” Rowan’s low timbre drifts from the phone’s speaker.

“I promised my girl I’d take her out tonight, and I always keep my promises.

Wes is here to take you for some pampering before he brings you back for our date tonight.

I know you hate not having all the details and you can be mad at me later for that, after I spoil you, of course. ”

The promise in the almost rumbly way he says “spoil you” zings right to my core.

“But I will let you know that everywhere you’ll be going is someplace you know very well. See you soon, luv.” There’s an unmistakable grin in his voice.

“Alright, gorgeous. Let’s go.” Wes offers his arm and I take it.

While surprises aren’t my fave, a girl could get used to this. Wes first delivers me to Amarpreet’s, my favorite day spa in town, for a pedicure and a blowout. Just as the stylist is putting the finishing touches on the loose waves she’s styled my auburn hair in, JoJo appears.

“What are you doing here?” I blink.

She holds up a large shopping bag and points to my body. “You don’t think you’re going to wear that on your date, do you?”

True. Yoga pants and a tank top aren’t my standard date night outfit. Though I’m pretty sure I could show up in one of the flannel Little House on the Prairie style nightgowns Aunt Bea used to wear and Rowan would still find me attractive.

In the changing room at Amarpreet’s, JoJo helps me with the sexy red lace strapless bra that matches the barely-there panties. Rowan may have paid for this, but this selection is pure JoJo.

Dolled up, I stand in front of the mirror. A red satin dress hugs my breasts and hips and the sweetheart neckline accentuates my ample cleavage, thanks to the bra’s gravity-defying push-up power.

“I would bang you so hard,” JoJo purrs, patting my behind.

“I can’t believe Rowan roped you all into whatever he’s planning.” I bend and slip on the red kitten-heeled shoes JoJo brought with the outfit.

“Of course. You deserve all the sweet stuff. Not just after the dog bite but after everything with Alex. I know this summer has been a mix of the amazing and not-so-amazing.” JoJo takes my folded, discarded clothes and slides them into the shopping bag atop the bench in front of the lockers for patrons.

“Rowan’s plan… This is just all so much.”

“Sweets, it’s never too much when you love someone. Rowan loves you. We love you.”

A satisfying sensation cocoons me. This amount of love is like a decadent dessert.

It’s sweet and delicious, but I’m scared too much will churn in my belly.

So much of the foundation for my understanding of love was built by my mother.

Even with our strained relationship, I know she loves me.

We’re going to forge a new path, but for so long her love had been focused on fixing and taking care of me.

My friends and Rowan’s love envelops me in the knowledge that, though they may take care of me, they love me as I am. Still that foundation is strong. An uneasiness creeps up my spine, but I smooth it away with each caress of my palm over the dress’s smooth fabric.

“Hey.” JoJo moves up beside me, placing her palm on my shoulder. “What’s going on there?”

“Just trying to figure out where the date is. You know me, I like all the details,” I say, hoping the lie isn’t evident.

“So, we’re just going to pretend you’re not freaking out about something?”

Groaning, I toss my head back. “Why am I friends with a filter-less social worker?”

“Because I’m fabulous.” She shimmies her hips.

“But since you were attacked by a dog, I’ll give you a get out of being social worked free card.

Though, I will remind you it’s far healthier to process things.

Your choice; emotional health” …she lifts her right hand… “or denial.” She lifts her left hand.

“Denial, please. This dress is far too pretty to be upset in.”

“Fine.” She sighs. “Can we at least talk about what sexy business you have in store for your man tonight?”

“If we can talk about why you haven’t read Gillian’s letter?” I challenge, waggling my eyebrows.

She points her pink-tipped finger. “If we’re not processing your stuff, we’re certainly not processing mine.”

“Why, Ms. JoJo… are you now swimming in denial river?”

“I’m a social worker, we’re in everyone else’s shit so we don’t have time to deal with our own.” She laughs. “Now, let’s get you to your man.”

Entering the house, my heels click against the hardwood floor.

JoJo and Wes dropped me off saying my date would meet me inside to escort me to the final location for the night.

A blended aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate fills the room.

The quiet hum of an acoustic guitar drifts in through the open windows.

“Rowan?” I call, stepping further into the living room from the foyer.

“Hey, luv,” he greets me.

The breath wooshes out of me. At the edge of the kitchen island, Rowan leans in a dark suit. GB, in a silver bow tie, sits beside him, his head tilting between us.

“You look… Wow. Just, wow.”

“Not nearly as gorgeous as you,” he murmurs, closing the distance between us. His big hands come to my hips and pull me against him.

“What you do to suits,” I purr, running my uninjured hand along his muscular arm, taking in how the fabric hugs his defined physique. “You have to wear a suit before and after all your games, right?”

His hands trail up my body and swipe across my wicked grin. “Something tells me, you’re going to enjoy the hockey season.”

“ So much .” I bat my lashes. “Where are we going for our date?”

“Follow me.” Threading his fingers between mine, he guides me towards the patio door.

Stepping out, I gape. Strings of lights zigzag above us and wrap around almost every surface. The back garden radiates in white light, allowing me to take in everything.

“What is this?” My cheeks almost hurt from the intensity of my smile.

“I wanted to take you somewhere that you’d feel comfortable to get around without Cane Austen.

I got Gillian to make all your favorites.

” He motions to the food-laden patio table.

“It’s not the taking you out that I planned, but technically we’re outside, so I figured this counts. I hope this is ok.”

“It’s so ok.” My mouth meets his.

The first few chords of a slow version of “I Wanna Dance with Somebody Who Loves Me” begin to play, pulling my attention away from Rowan. My gaze falls onto a man, an acoustic guitar in his hand, tucked into the backyard’s corner.

“Hey, Pen,” the man says as he continues to strum his guitar, his familiar voice tickles my memory.

“Harley?” Blinking, my eyes jump between Harley and Rowan.

“I called in a favor.” His voice is filled with amusement.

“You flew Harley in to play a private concert for us?”

“Michigan Ed Sheeran has grown on me.” A smirk punctuates his tone. “Dance with me, please?”

“Yes.”

Rowan leads us down the two steps from the patio to the little brick walk that cuts across the center of the small yard.

In the middle, beneath the twinkling lights, he holds me close.

His fresh scent melds with jasmine from the garden and the cool ocean breeze.

Looping my arms around his neck, I nuzzle into his collarbone.

His palms rest at the small of my back. There’s something perfect about the way we fit together.

“I remember the first time we danced.” His fingers rub lazy circles against my back. “From that moment, it was clear I was always meant to dance with you,” he says softly.

“I love you so much,” I whisper.

“As big as the moon.”

My head tips up, a chuckle escaping. “What does that mean?”

“Dad would say to Mam that his love for her was as big as the moon. It always seemed a little cheesy, but I don’t mind being cheesy with, or for, you.”

“As big as the moon.” Rising to my tiptoes, I press my smile to his.

After our dessert-only dinner and more dancing, Harley leaves.

Rowan scoops up the platters of treats and returns them to the kitchen.

GB snores on the couch. Plates clank as Rowan puts the leftover brownies, cookies, and cheesecake away.

Leaning against the counter, I soak into the domesticity of this.

In such a short period, this has become my life. Not the surprise romantic evening with an impromptu concert and decadent sweet-filled dinner, but one with this man. Going to bed together. Waking up together. Just doing life together.

“Rowan—” The stampede of my heart almost drowns out his name. “Do you want to move in with me?”

He turns and stares at me, a Tupperware container half-filled with cookies in his hand.

“You’re here all the time and…” Raking my teeth against my bottom lip, I huff a breath. “What am I doing? It’s too soon. I’m sor?—”

“Not too soon,” he cuts in, his words rushed and breathless. “Yes.”

“ Yes ?”

“Yes!” He places the container down and rushes to me, arms wrapping around my body.

“You don’t think it’s too soon?” The question is partly to make sure he’s sure and also to reassure myself. Despite the anxiety pulsing along my nerve endings, a calmness settles over me.

“Luv, I’ve been ready to move in since our first date, so as far as I’m concerned this isn’t soon enough.”

A loud giggle escapes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you.”

I grin. “Ditto.”

“Now if you don’t mind, I need to properly celebrate this occasion.” He spins me, pressing me against the wall. With a nip to my lips, he slides up the dress’s skirt.

“Rowan,” I moan as his mouth drags down my neck. “I like your way of celebrating.”

He traces kisses down my body. Kneeling before me, he looks up, the light catching his eyes. His stare almost caresses me like worshipping hands. With a slow teasing movement, he drags down my barely-there underwear.

“Tripping hazard,” he says, shoving them into his pocket.

My laugh is stolen by a breathy moan as he nips and soothes with kisses along my inner thighs. Gripping me, he hooks both my legs over his shoulders and inhales deep at my core.

“So goddamn sweet.” His pleased groan rumbles against my bare center before he takes his first lick.

Despite having had me many times, somehow each time he devours me as if he’s never tasted nor will ever consume anything so good again. His tongue laps against me like a thirsty man, drinking up every last bit of my pleasure.

“Oh god!” I cry, my fingers yanking at his thick dark hair.

Body still trembling, he lowers my shaky legs to the ground. But they’re not there long. Within seconds, he unzips and pushes down his pants and boxers. He hoists me up, my legs wrapping around him. Pressed against the wall, he drives into me.

“Christ,” he groans, moving inside me. “It’s like this sweet little pussy was made just for me.”

“It is… I am.”

“And I’m made for you… Only you.” His fingers bite into my hips and he raises me higher on him, thrusting up hard and deep.

Body taut, I cling to Rowan as he fucks me with almost relentless but somehow indulgent drives. He rasps sweet praises in his sexy Irish lilt about how good I feel and what a good girl I am. The tension builds at my center.

“Ohhh,” I whine.

“I got you, luv.” His fingers move between us and stroke my clit.

“Yes!” Shuddering, I slump against him.

His movements turn fast and uncoordinated as he chases his release. “Fuck!” he cries, spilling into me.

For a moment we remain there. Me tight against the wall. Him holding me. Our ragged breaths are the only sound.

“Oh my god, do you think GB saw that?” I say breathlessly.

His head twists. “Yep.”

“We’re terrible dog parents.”

Laughing, he cups my cheek. “I love you, so much.”

“As big as the moon.”