Page 28 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls (Ivy Falls #3)

PIPER

Delicious Friction

It was the first time in over a month I’d had a day off from all my jobs. I glanced around my apartment, my gaze lingering on the spot where Ford and I kissed last night.

He’d surprised me. I thought the minute we were through the door, his hands would be all over me.

If I’d made all the guys I’d dated stand in a police lineup, I’d label them pathetic, bad and, of course, utterly chaotic with a dose of potential criminal.

Nine times out of ten I went for door number three.

Ford was the complete opposite. He asked what I needed and let me set the pace.

At one point when he raked his fingers through my hair, I found myself swallowing down a sob.

I’d been dating since I was fifteen and never before had a man been so tender with me.

Paid attention to my cues. Listened when I said what I wanted.

The mid-August sun sparkled through my sliding glass door and I got an idea. After taking a quick sip of coffee, I moved into the hall and knocked on Ford’s door.

He answered a few seconds later and I had to grip the edge of my pajama top. Ford all buttoned up was swoony. Ford with sleepy eyes, unruly dark hair and a day’s worth of stubble was five-alarm fire hot.

‘Mornin.’ He glanced at the dancing cows in hula skirts on my pajamas and that boyish grin of his made it hard to think pure thoughts.

‘I’m curious. How do you feel about lakes?’

He scratched at his hair, making his bedhead even sexier. ‘Lakes?’

‘Yes. You know, big bodies of water. Usually with trees and a shore around it.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, thank you, Miss Wikipedia.’

‘Lake Rainer is a short drive away, and I don’t have to work today. Are you up for a little swimming? Maybe a picnic? I could ask Barb and Susan to throw in some cookies as an extra enticement.’

He stepped out into the hall, the smell of toothpaste on his breath. ‘Bird, are you asking me on a date?’

Date. Who knew a single word could send such a shot of terror down my spine.

‘Uh. Maybe,’ I said, shrinking back.

He tugged on the drawstring of my shorts and yanked me to his chest. Did that move where he slid his hand behind my neck, cradled my head and gave me a kiss so steamy it nearly made my knees buckle. He pulled away much too quickly and pressed his forehead to mine.

‘Sorry. Had to get that out of my system.’

‘It’s okay,’ I stammered, my senses engulfed in his woody scent. ‘The lake?’ I babbled. ‘Sound like fun?’

‘Count me in.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek and said, ‘Come back in half an hour?’

‘That’ll work.’

He gave me a wide smile before saying, ‘Oatmeal raisin.’

‘What?’

‘You said enticement. Mine comes in the form of oatmeal raisin cookies.’

He turned and closed the door before I could sputter out that no one really liked that flavor of cookie.

When we first walked to where Ford’s car was parked near the community bank, I had to swallow a laugh. I hadn’t pegged him as a station wagon kind of guy.

‘Go ahead. Get it out of your system.’

‘I did not say a word.’ My barely contained laughter gave away my amusement.

‘What? It’s a classic,’ he said like he was a little hurt.

‘Ford, exactly how old is this car?’

‘It’s a nineteen-ninety Mercedes and it runs like a dream.’

‘Where did you get it?’ I said, handing him our towels, tote bags and picnic lunch to load inside.

‘It used to be up at our cabin in the Smoky Mountains. I needed a car and asked my parents to drive it down.’

I shook my head and walked to the passenger seat. ‘And who picked the color?’

‘It used to be gold but the car was parked in a dilapidated barn. Between the winter cold, and the swampy summer heat, it turned into this.’

‘Yes, everyone loves a car that’s Creamsicle orange.’

‘Hey, it has character.’

‘Well, as long as this “character” gets us to the lake and back it’s all good.’

He patted the roof like it was a loyal pet. ‘It’ll get us there perfectly fine.’

The car started with a roar. Damn. Maybe it did drive like a dream.

We pulled away from the curb and left Ivy Falls in the rearview.

The way to the lake was all small winding roads shaded by a tight canopy of trees.

I’d forgotten how beautiful and green Tennessee could be in the summer.

How kudzu climbed the trees resembling a slithering snake.

The way the halo of moody sunlight seeped through the broad sway of branches like liquid gold.

More than once he glanced at my hand lying against the seat. By the way he’d behaved like a gentleman last night, it was clear if I wanted his touch I was going to have to make my wishes known. I reached over and threaded my fingers through his and the corner of his mouth happily twitched.

‘When was the last time you were at the lake?’ he asked.

I focused on the scenery to help control the complicated emotions churning in my chest. ‘It’s been fifteen years. I haven’t been back since I left Ivy Falls with my family.’

He stayed quiet, and I liked how he didn’t feel compelled to fill the pauses, but waited for me to share whatever part of my past I was ready to reveal.

When he’d come into the café or P&P, I’d catch glimpses of his interactions with people.

He always had an easy smile for Silvio or Barb.

Was quick to pull a book down from a high shelf for Miss Marta or Isabel when they asked for help.

Even when kids approached him on the street, asked questions, he always took the time to give them a thoughtful answer.

For too many years, I’d lived in a world where men chose cruelty over kindness.

I wasn’t sure how to handle someone who led with his heart and not the lower half of his body.

A part of me remained guarded, but every minute I spent with him slowly melted the carved iron bars that surrounded my heart.

‘I was twelve. Beck was sixteen. Our parents had friends with a boat. We went fishing. Swam in the coves. It’s a good memory.’ I sighed. ‘It wasn’t until I was much older that I figured out those were the platinum days.’

He gave me a curious glance. ‘Platinum?’

‘That’s what I call the careless times I had with my parents and Beck. To me, they were more precious than gold. Of course, I wouldn’t know that until we’d lost them.’

Even now with all the years of therapy I’d been through, grief still drew all the air from my lungs.

To this day, there were still times when I wanted to pick up the phone to call my mom.

Tell her about a funny story a kid from the theater had told me.

Explain to my dad how when I worked on blocking, or wrote dialogue notes on my script, hope bloomed in my chest like one of Ferris Johnson’s prize roses.

It was as if my body knew before my brain that this was what I was meant to do.

As if he could read my mind, sense the sadness building in my bones, Ford lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to my skin. It was such a gentle touch that it eased the ache in my heart.

The sun danced through the trees in wide, shimmering swaths as the canopy thinned and the lake came into view. It was the same azure color I remembered. Small waves made by passing watercraft lapped against the dirt and sand shore.

Ford guided the car through the entrance gate and parked near a stone footpath that led to the water.

Once we had all our gear, he slammed the tailgate and immediately reached for my hand.

We walked the long, narrow path. Trees crowded the lane until they stopped at a short set of wooden stairs.

My gaze flicked to the west side of the shore.

It took me a minute but I found what I was looking for.

‘This way,’ I said. We passed young couples lying on colorful beach towels. A loud and raucous game of Spikeball was happening a few feet away. Further down the shore, small tents shaded families from the late morning sun.

Ford hitched up our bags on his broad shoulders as we kept walking. ‘Where are we going?’

‘A special spot.’

We continued our trek until I stopped in front of a beautiful tree with an arched form that looked like nature had made its own umbrella.

‘That’s very cool.’ Ford set down our bags and moved around the tree, examining the thick-barreled trunk and massive swoop of branches.

‘This was my dad’s favorite spot. When we were little, he used to tell Beck and me this tree was magic.

That it only appeared when we set our feet on the shore.

For the longest time we believed him until Beck started reading the Magic Tree House series in school and figured out that a lot of the lore Dad told us came from those books. ’

‘I remember those stories. Jack and Annie. They were the coolest. Getting to go to Camelot and on the Titanic .’

‘I was a little afraid the tree might not be here anymore. Over the years I’ve learned that no matter how much you want it to happen, nothing stays the same.’

He squeezed my hand. ‘Then this can be your reminder that certain things can be tried and true.’

There was such confidence in his voice, and I wondered what it was like to have a normal existence like his. Still have his parents. Sure, his folks acted like jerks, but they were alive.

That pall of darkness I spent a lot of time hiding from crept in from the corners of the lake. The sound of an explosion, roar of flames, played like a movie behind my eyes.

I pulled in a low breath. Reminded myself of where I was. What I’d been through. How I’d learned ways to keep myself calm and steady. I tried to picture that special place again but my mind was a stark black screen so I turned to my senses.

Sand under my feet.

Coconut-scented sunscreen in the air.

And a new and anchoring sound – the careful and steady pattern of Ford’s breaths.

‘Hey.’ He gently wrapped his hands around my waist. ‘You okay?’

‘Trying to be. The memories of this place are strong.’

‘Do you want to leave?’

‘No, I want a picture.’

He gave me a puzzled look. ‘A picture?’

‘Yes, let’s take a selfie.’