Page 107 of Faking It with the Firefighter

I still couldn’t quite believe that she’d invited me over, that she actually wanted to see me.

Seconds ticked. I checked the window, but Winston was a no-show. I knocked again. My palms were sweaty against the paper grocery bag and against the plastic bouquet wrap. Had she changed her mind?

Then the door wrenched open. Abigail stood on the other side, her head surrounded by a halo of flyaways, her white T-shirt splashed with countless tomato sauce stains. She looked harried, her eyes wide and worried.

I couldn’t help my smile. Abigail looked perfect, as always.

“You came,” she said, then gulped. This wasn’t the arms-open reunion that I’d hoped it would be—but I was willing to fight for what I wanted. She moved away from the door. “Come in.” The moment my feet hit her wood floors, my shoulders dropped and a wash of peace went over me. I closed the door behind me.

“I brought you these. The colors reminded me of your tree,” I added a little lamely, dipping my head toward the oak tree Winston had used as a refuge.

Abigail smiled, but it looked a little forced. Was she regretting inviting me over? Had I misread things, and the flowers were presumptuous?

“Is everything okay?” I asked, ready to rip the Band-Aid off. If she didn’t want me here, I’d rather hear it now, even though everything in me rebelled at the thought of leaving.

Abigail let out a long sigh and let me in. She pointed over her shoulder at the kitchen. “It’s just that the dish I made is…inedible.” Her head dropped, throat bobbing as she swallowed. “I wanted to do something nice. I wanted this to be an olive branch, but I—I messed up.”

We both heard her unsaid word:again.

The thumping of my heart became violent. Here was a beautiful, courageous woman, putting herself out on the line for me. Thinking of me. Putting in the effort for me.

I reached out, lifted her chin, and looked into those big, beautiful brown eyes. “That’s really sweet, Abigail.”

Her cheeks went pink, and she bit her lip. “It would’ve been if I’d remembered to set the kitchen timer. And I stained my shirt. I’m a scrappy mess, Rex.”

Iglanced at the smeared tomato on her shirt, which did nothing to smear her natural radiance, and I grinned. “I happen to like it when you’re scrappy. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Rex,” she chided. Her soft brows perked up as her voice softened. Her cheeks flushed for a moment before she took a breath and looked away. “Well, unless you have dinner in that paper bag, we won’t eat tonight.”

“Oh, in this bag?” I said. “We could call it dinner.”

“Is it wine?” she asked. “Because I’ve already opened a bottle.”

“It’s stovetop popcorn with all the fixins.” I let her peek into the brown paper bag.

That’s when it all changed. Abigail looked from the grocery bag to me, and her eyes shone like tears were coming. “You brought me flowers and popcorn?”

“None of that microwave garbage,” I added.

She gulped. “You did say you were going to show me how to make it on the stove.”

“See? I keep my promises.”

Her chin wobbled. “And you’d be okay with eating popcorn for dinner?”

“Abigail. I would eat rocks for dinner if it meant I could eat them with you.” I took a deep breath, ready to proclaim my love for her over and over—then I felt something warm swirl around my leg. It was Winston snuggling up to me.

I bent down and scratched behind his ears. He leaned into my hands until I hit the spot by his whiskers. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he was smiling. “When you said he missed me, I thought that was code for you, but I’m starting tothink you were telling the truth. He’s never been this friendly.”

“I think it’s his way of saying, ‘Thank you for getting me out of that tree,’” Abigail said.

“Any time, Winston,” I said and stood back up. “So, should we get this popcorn started?”

Abigail’s brows drew together, her gaze incisive. “You really don’t mind?”

I set the bag down and moved closer. Abigail softened when I ran my hands down her arms and tangled my fingers with hers. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t throw me out and tell me to never see her again.

Hope sprang to life in my chest.

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