Page 42 of Wrecked for Love
“Can I open my eyes now?” she asked, her voice full of excitement.
“Nope, not yet!” I grinned, guiding her out of the truck and carefully along the path. “Okay…now open.”
She opened her eyes and gaped, speechless. Her gaze swept over the small series of twinkling lights I’d strung between two trees, the lights crisscrossing above us like stars. In the center of it all stood a table covered in a crisp white cloth, perfectly set with a vase of yellow roses at the center. The cutlery and dinnerware were laid out just so, as if waiting for an intimate feast.
“Elia…this is so sweet and incredible,” she said, still taking it all in. My full name, spoken in her soft voice. There was something about the way she said it tonight—it felt special, like hearing it for the first time all over again. This time, it felt doubly so, like she was seeing all of me in that moment.
Her eyes drifted to the side, noticing the bottles of wine set neatly on a small wooden cart, the covered ingredients hinting at the barbecue to come, and the cushioned chairs with throw blankets draped over them, ready to ward off the evening chill.
She stepped closer and trailed her fingers along the edge of the table, the lights reflecting in her eyes. “You really went all out for this, didn’t you?”
I grinned, tipping my hat slightly. “Well, you don’t take a prize mare out to pasture. Come, sit down,” I said, pulling out a chair for her. “Want a blanket?”
“Yes, please.”
I draped the blanket around her shoulders, ensuring she was snug before I stoked the fire. Once satisfied with the flames, I returned to the table and stood beside it with the bottle cradled in my hand, my thumb and fingers expertly balanced on the neck like a pro sommelier. “Red or white?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
I raised a brow. “Miss Chili Pepper, following my lead? Now that’s a twist.”
She shot me a grin. “Hey, I’m letting you steer tonight. Better take advantage while you can.”
“Red it is.” I poured the Syrah, the wine swirling into the glasses. Taking my seat across from her, I raised mine. “To following the lead.”
She paused, her eyes flickering in the glow of the fire. “To letting go.”
Our glasses met with a soft clink, and through the shimmer of the wine, her smile reached me—genuine, unguarded.
Letting go.What did she mean by that? Control perhaps. Or was it something else? The secrets she hadn’t yet voiced? Either way, if she wanted to let go, I’d follow, letting her set the pace. The last thing I wanted was for things to spiral—unraveling truths we weren’t ready for—and risk losing her altogether.
We eased into comfortable chatter, and I asked her how she was settling into Buffaloberry.
“It’s been good. Working at Paul’s has given me a nice routine. And the shelter—the animals help keep me grounded,” she said, absently tracing the rim of her glass with her finger.
“Mr. Gunn?”
She hitched a shoulder. “Well, he’s grown on me. He’s got a good heart. Besides, bedside manner doesn’t count for much when you’re surrounded by anxious dogs and finicky cats.”
“True,” I said, cocking my brows. “And how’s The Willow?”
“The Willow? It’s like the place I always dreamed about. You know, the kind of spot that’s always been a little abstract in your mind, but the moment you walk in, you justknowit’s home. I thought I was done fixing it up, but now I think I might spruce up the second bedroom a bit.”
She was clearly in love with the place. Her face lit up every time she talked about it. If this date went well, I’d be running out of excuses not to spend time with her there. And I was determined to make sure it did go well. Starting with a safe question, even if the second bedroom wasn’t exactly my favorite subject. “That’s nice. What are you using the room for?”
“I’m turning it into a study. The views are magnificent,” she said, her eyes brimming with ideas.
Ah, the views. I knew them all too well. Logan and I used to crash in that room when we were kids, back when his grandma was still alive. We’d stay up way too late, talking about the world beyond Buffaloberry. Funny thing, though. When the time came for us to leave, neither of us ever did. The town had us in its grip, always had. But the house hadn’t been the same since Logan’s grandma passed. The Willow had remained our escape—until the day I found Tessa in that bedroom. Even more tragic, it had been my little brother, Noah, who found her first. I really wished he hadn’t—that day had truly broken him.
“I guess it’s hard to get a bad view in Buffaloberry Hill,” Claire said.
“You’re right about that,” I acknowledged, getting up with a grin. “Ready for the appetizer?”
“Absolutely!”
I grabbed the plates. Earlier, I’d whipped up something quick and refreshing. “Here we go!”
“Oh, yum! Is that ceviche?” Claire perked up.
