Gift Wrapped (19 page)

“I don’t know what to say, Davis.” Her gaze dropped to the small note. “
‘Stay.’
What does that mean?”

“It’s a verb, the opposite of go or leave. An action word with no action.”

She didn’t smile or giggle at his intended joke. Just quietly asked, “But what does it
mean
?”

“I met you at my least favorite time of the year. Christmas, the season devoted to celebrating family relationships, which I no longer have because I walked away from a line of cold, competitive assholes more interested in one-upping each other than having a warm feeling about anything. Add to that, the fact that my house had been robbed, and I was in a foul mood to end all foul moods. Until I spotted you.”

Her eyelids fluttered, then she met his eyes again. “That was a great night.”

“One of the best.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss over her lips. “I invited you to my house, planning on a few fun hours together. Didn’t take me long to realize one night with you wouldn’t be enough. By the time we got back from your parents’ house Christmas Day, I knew I wanted to keep seeing you until you left town. I thought it’d be safe, getting involved with you that way, without any pressure to commit to ‘more’ down the road.”

“I really hate your family for souring you against meaningful relationships.”

“Yeah, well, you un-soured me.” The edge of the paper rasped his palm as he covered her fidgety hand with his. “I want you to stay here and see what happens between us.”

“Here, meaning…?”

“In St. Catherines.”

“I’m moving tomorrow. I start at my new position on Tuesday.”

“But you don’t have to. Your current store doesn’t have a replacement yet, and your apartment hasn’t been rented.”

“I—” Long, soft curls tumbled forward, over her shoulder as she shook her head. “This is big, and I need a few minutes to collect my thoughts,” she said, shimmying out of reach, then off the bed. “Meet you in the kitchen?”

“Yeah, of course.” He collected his clothes from the floor and leaned in to steal another kiss before giving her the space she’d requested.

She was right, this was big. A step he hadn’t planned to take—ever—but one that felt natural with Brinn. He’d kind of sweated writing that message ten days ago. Because, what if? What if things went south between them before the tenth day arrived? It’d been a risk. But each day, the lingering doubts faded a bit more.

Admittedly, leaving this question until the eleventh hour wasn’t the wisest plan. And asking her to pass up a promotion, even temporarily, was a lot.

With her skills, another opportunity wouldn’t be far off. Hell, she might even end up at the other mall here in St. Catherines, running her company’s newly renovated flagship store. She’d already mentioned the possibility of returning someday, as retail managers often bounced from store to store. Hopefully she’d rather stay and wait it out than leave and bounce her way back.

In the kitchen, he pulled on his boxers and jeans. Got to work assembling their dinner on plates. Pouring the wine. Lighting the candles. How many times had his parents used words like
romantic
and
dreamer
about him? More than he could count. They’d been right, even if they’d tainted the characteristics with negativity and sarcasm.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here.”

He looked up from grating fresh Provolone over their meals. After everything they’d just done in his bedroom, his cock ought to be down and done for a while. Not the case. One look at Brinn in black leggings and a formfitting, pale-blue top that showed off her curves and his dick was wide awake.

“Come, sit.” He pulled out a chair and nodded at her plate. “I think you’re going to like this.”

“That’s a given. Everything you make is mouthgasm inducing.”

“Hell of an endorsement.” He took the remaining seat. “But I can’t take all the credit for the food. I have this new muse who inspires me.”

She smiled from behind the glass of wine she’d just sipped. “What does she do to inspire you?”

“Gives incredible head, tastes like heaven when she comes on my tongue, has the sexiest tits in the world,” he said, winking.

“Ah. So your muse is a porn star.”

“She could be.” He slid his hand from her knee to the top of her thigh while leaning in to kiss her neck. “But she’s currently all mine.”

Brinn’s expressive face held no secrets. At least not from him. She had several smiles, from sultry to sweet, with all kinds of emotions in between. Right now, none of them graced her pretty face.

“Hey.” He caught her hands in his. “It’s more than sex.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Something had chased her happiness away, though, and if it was him, he damn sure wanted to know how. “Talk to me.”

“You said ‘currently.’ I’m
currently
all yours.”

“It’s just a word.”

“It’s not the word I need to hear. Neither was ‘St. Catherines’ when I asked you what you meant by ‘stay here.’”

“I’m an intelligent guy, Brinn, but I’d rather hear exactly what’s on your mind than try to read between the lines.”

“Ever since college, I’ve been waiting for Mr. Right to come along. I know it’s old-fashioned, but I want somebody to go home to every night. Somebody I can count on. A man who makes me happy, and appreciates that I make him happy too.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there’s not. What’s wrong is that I’ve made it my number-one priority. After college, I should’ve gone out and found a good position in my field. Instead, I took a going-nowhere minimum-wage job in a retail store, just so I could continue to be with my then-boyfriend. He wasn’t Mr. Right, obviously, but I managed to work my way up to the manager position at the store, so I had that achievement, at least.”

“Same company you’re with now?” he asked when she paused.

“Yes.”

He nodded and waited for her to continue. “Congratulations” probably wasn’t the response she wanted to hear at the moment, even if he was impressed that she’d made something out of next-to-nothing.

“I did well, and my DM moved me to a higher-volume store in a different mall. That’s where I met Liam. He was managing a sporting goods chain store near the food court.”

“More proof that eating at the food court is bad news.”

At that, she laughed. Even smiled briefly. “Then he got bumped to the mall here. A demotion. A couple months later, I requested a transfer so I could follow him, even though it meant managing a significantly lower-volume store. All because Liam dangled the ‘I love you, move here so we can see more of each other and
maybe
live happily ever after’ bait.”

He schooled his face, but inside, he grimaced. His proposal rang pretty damn close to Liam’s. And Davis knew how that attempt at a happily ever after had faired. The asshole had fucking cheated on her. No surprise Brinn was hesitant after being burned.

“I’m not Liam,” he said, brushing the pad of his thumb over her lip. “I’d never hurt you the way he did.”

“I know. But—” Her breath hitched as she bit back whatever would have followed. “I was willing to move down the ladder to be with a guy, then further down if necessary, to avoid seeing him anymore. I was just lucky enough to get promoted instead.”

“Not lucky. You earned it. Because you’re great at your job.”

“Yes, I am. And it’s time I focused on my individual success as much as my desire for a relationship. I need to base my decisions on more than wishful thinking.” A frown played across her trembling lips. “That’s why I’m moving tomorrow.”

Shit. This was not going the way he’d hoped. He released one hand to wipe the tear that’d rolled down her cheek. “Leaving can’t be the best choice if it’s making you unhappy.”

“If I stayed, it would be because of you. Me, hoping this thing between us turns out to be the big love of my lifetime. That’s not a fair expectation of any man, especially one who doesn’t want the same thing. You asking me to forfeit an important career opportunity to extend our status quo for an undetermined amount of time isn’t a fair expectation either.”

“You’re right. But it’s all I can offer right now.”

She threw her arms around his neck and buried her face against his neck. “I don’t want this to be our last night together.”

“Neither do I.”

“Then let’s find an alternative. It’s only a two-hour drive, we can keep seeing each other.”

He eased free of her vise-like hug. Cupped her beautiful face between his palms. “When are we going to see each other, Brinn? I work late most nights. Rarely have weekends off. You frequently put in extra hours, and that’s probably going to increase with the busier store and additional responsibilities. We’d be lucky to coordinate one day a week together. You said it yourself—you want somebody to go home to every night.”

“I wish that somebody could be you,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his.

No point in telling her he wished the same thing. Instead, he showed her, with his mouth on hers. With his hands in her hair. For one more night.

Chapter Eleven

Another day in the bag. That was it, the extent of his feelings about his Friday night shift. He used to leave work feeling pumped and positive, or pissed because the wheels had flown off in all directions. High, low, or somewhere in the middle, he’d always felt
something
about his job. Until lately. Now it all just fell flat.

Davis scrolled through the preset stations on the radio while making the autopilot drive from the restaurant to his house. Top-forty, rock, club mixes—none of the music grabbed him.

Work rut. Music rut. Must be the time of year. Long, dark days and the deep freeze of February made it hard to be enthusiastic. Time to add something new to the daily grind.

He pressed the search button on the radio and waited for it to find the next signal. He’d start with random musical input. Tomorrow he’d haul his lazy ass out of the house. Shake things up, get out of his rut. Force himself to rejoin the land of the living.

The radio picked up a station and music filled the car. Country—pass. The twang all sounded the same to him. He reached for the button, stopping short when recognition sparked.

Country music had never appealed to him, but he knew this song. Knew it well. Brinn loved it. He’d copied it from her playlist and they’d swayed to it in his bedroom. He’d undressed her while it played, then laid her on his bed and made her come with his fingers and mouth. Fucking beautiful, his Brinn. Sweet yet so damn sexy. He wasn’t about to forget this song. Or her.

They’d said their goodbyes three weeks ago. They’d texted since she moved, but each time, the exchange got shorter. Less personal and more awkward. His last attempt at communication had been one way, when he messaged her but didn’t receive a reply. On Valentine’s Day. The silence told him plenty. So did the fact that he’d counted the days without contact.

Shit. Yeah, they’d clicked. A lot. Inside the bedroom and out of it. But it was a month of his life. He should’ve moved on already. He should at least
want
to move on.

The dashboard clock read 11:20 as he pulled into his driveway. Late, but not crazy late. Several inches of powdery snow had accumulated since he left for work mid-afternoon. Normally, he’d take ten minutes to shovel the sidewalk in front of his house and the neighbors’. Right now he didn’t give a shit about anything other than getting inside and on the phone.

He locked the front door and shrugged out of his coat. His on-the-fly toss missed the mark, sending his coat and keys sliding off the arm of the leather couch to hit the floor with a light thud. He liked things orderly, but right now he couldn’t care less about the pile on the living room floor. Or anything other than connecting with Brinn.

In his bedroom, he propped the pillows against the headboard and settled in on top of the duvet. To text or call. A text would be easier. Pose the question, wait for her answer, go from there.

Easy was good. Familiar. Keeping it simple had been his MO with women for years. But nothing about his next move was familiar or usual. He’d never pursued a woman after walking away. He’d never had this hole in his life after he let one go.

Fuck it. Since he was going down a new road, he might as well use a new approach. He brought up her contact info and tapped the “call” icon. Generic ringing on his end, but two hours away, on her end, birds were chirping. And that made him smile for the first time all day.

“Because it’s a joyful sound, and I hope all the calls I get are happy ones,”
had been the reason she cited when he asked why she’d chosen the sound for her ringtone.

He’d never met anybody as genuinely optimistic as Brinn. The quality made her naïve at times. A bit unrealistic in her expectations, maybe. But it was also part of her spirit. Her vitality. Characteristics to which he’d quickly become addicted during their time together.

On his end, the phone rang a third time. Shit, maybe he’d called too late.

“Davis…hi.” Brinn’s sweet voice filled his ear halfway through the fourth ring. “This is a surprise.”

That was on him. Standing in the door of her new apartment, she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face against his neck. Instead of saying goodbye, she’d suggested for a second time that they keep things going, try a long-distance relationship. He’d shut her down. Not in a dick way, but a very final rejection nonetheless.

“I was driving home from work just now, flipping through the stations on the radio, trying to find something good to listen to. That country song you like came on. The one that was playing when I undressed you. The night before you moved.”

“Burnin’ Bed,”
she whispered.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“I’ll always remember that night.”

“So will I,” he said. Two hundred kilometers separated them, yet the air charged as if she were beside him on the bed, staring into his soul with those big blue eyes of hers. “I want to see you, Brinn. I have tomorrow night off. How about I come up and make you dinner?”

“I can’t.”