Although I don’t know if there are cornfields in Colorado. The temperatures don’t seem conducive to it, but I don’t have a fucking clue.
“I thought we’d start the night here.”
“Here?”
She nods. “Yes. I want to bake something together. Pasta with some other things I have planned. And then I want to take you to Pop’s for dessert after.”
“Funny because I think I’d much rather make you dessert.”
She rolls her eyes at me, playfully swatting at my chest. “In case you’ve forgotten, you have to work for that, Mr. Hunter. You better get to it.”
I kiss her cheek, gesturing for her to lead the way. She tugs on my hand, pulling me toward the back kitchen. “I really thought the roses would work in my favor. I made your Ms. Lori search her entire stockroom to make sure I got every red rose in the place. I’d actually asked for pink ones since it seems, you know…” I look around her cafe, which has pink in every direction. “You really like pink.”
When we get to the back room, I find a little table placed in the corner. There’s a candle at the top with the table already set.
“I could’ve done all this,” I note, missing her touch the moment she lets go of my hand. It falls awkwardly to my side as she heads to a cabinet. I look back to the table, upset that she had to do all of this. That wasn’t my intention when I told her to pick. I just thought she might want to choose the location—not set up and plan out an entire meal.
“You could’ve, but I wanted to. To start the night, I didn’t want to share you with anyone. There’s still so much I don’t know about you, and I don’t want to go somewhere public where everyone will be stopping at our table to snoop every two seconds.”
“I was wildly unprepared for how interested people are. That Rosemary was something else earlier.”
She laughs. “A little advice for you. Everyone here knows everything about anyone. If you take it public—and even sometimes when you don’t—people will find out. If you wanted to keep us a secret, it’s too late. Rosemary has already called up her bunco friends, book club ladies, and probably half her bible study.”
“Do you think I want to keep this a secret?”
She places the flowers on a large, narrow table on the far side of the room, getting them out of the way for whatever she has planned. My heart races in my chest, anxious to hear her answer. Is she stalling? I don’t want to keep it a secret. At least, I don’t want to go out of my way to hide anything. I’m sure men fall at her feet in this town. I want them to know to look away. She’s mine.
Is she, though? It’s still too fresh to say that, but I don’t give a damn. I’ve tasted her, gotten to know the parts of her she doesn’t share with the world, and I want her as my own.
I feel awkward, standing in the middle of her small kitchen, waiting for her to answer me. Maybe I’ve misinterpreted things. We haven’t had any conversations about what we are, but it might sting a little to find out she’d rather keep whatever is developing between us a secret from this town that she loves. I’d be proud for them to know we’re seeing each other.
Are we seeing each other?
“Do you want to keep this a secret?” I press. Fuck. My heart beats so fast. Why am I so anxious? Why do I care? This hasn’t ever happened. It feels like everything hangs in the balance as I watch her with bated breath, fully realizing that I might care about her far more than I’d anticipated.
“I’m not sure what this is.”
“I’m not either,” I confess, scratching at my chin. Do I lay it all out on the line now or keep my cards close to my chest? I never want to be the one to admit how I feel first. I like to watch people, read them, to see where their head is at before giving them any indication of what’s going on in my own head. It’s something I’ve done with work for years. I’ve never had to do it with a relationship because I’ve never cared enough. Taking a deep breath, I make my decision. And if it backfires, I’ll just do the simple thing and pack up and head back to Manhattan, never to return to Sutten again. Maybe avoid Colorado altogether. “But I want more of this. More of you. More of us. And unless you want to, I don’t have anything to hide. I want you, shortcake. In an intense, ferocious way I’ve never wanted anyone else.” Another deep breath in. “And it’s actually really fucking unnerving.”
“Good,” she whispers, her voice so soft I almost miss it.