Page 112 of Valentine Nook
She spins around from the sound of me laughing at what afucking idiot I am, and her smile hits me so squarely in the chest my mind goes blank.
“Hey.”
I walk toward her, slowly like I’m savoring the time. “What are you doing here?”
“I had extra apples for Thunder and Sunday. When I’m done with Pierre, I always stop by on my way home.”
Of course she does.
“No wonder Thunder’s getting fat,” I tease.
She slaps me playfully in the chest. I grab her before she can step back, wrapping my arms around her and breathing in her scent of sugar and cinnamon.
“Don’t body-shame Thunder.”
I reply by taking her face in my hands.
My chat with Alex this morning has me in my head about her leaving, and I kiss her like it’s the last time I’ll see her.
I want to know how it feels, how I’ll feel to have her in my arms one last time.
I sense the moment Holiday realizes it’s not a quick kiss, her fists gripping my shirt while I hold her. My tongue sweeps around her mouth, tangling us together, melting into one another. My teeth graze her lips, and I swallow her moans, wanting more.
I will always want more.
We kiss long enough for Thunder to snort with impatience at being ignored. When I let go, her eyes take a second to focus while she catches her breath.
“What was that for?”
“No reason. Just because.” I glance at Thunder and clear my throat so she can’t see how bad I am at lying. “I’m going to take him out. Do you want to come on Sunday?”
“Sure, can you wait for me to change? I’ll be twenty minutes.”
I nod. “I’ll get them ready.”
“Okay.” She leans up, plants one more kiss on me, then sprints to her car without another word.
The moment she’s out of sight, Thunder nudges me, rests his head on my neck, and whickers a deep sigh.
“Yes, buddy. I know.”
Alex is wrong. I’m not falling for her.
I’ve already fallen.
CHAPTER 23
Holiday
When it rains in England, itrains.
Miraculously, the roof is holding up.I’ve been staring at the crack in the ceiling, daring it to leak, but so far, it’s been drip-free. I’m not so sure about the windows because they’re taking a beating this morning.
It’s so loud I’m amazed Lando’s sleeping through it. Sometimes he sleeps so deeply that I have to stop myself from checking his pulse. Today, the quiet snoring tells me all I need to know, and when I slip out of bed, he doesn’t stir.
In lieu of a robe, I snatch up the cashmere blanket resting on the chair in the corner, wrap it around myself, and tiptoe quietly downstairs in search of coffee. The last of summer’s petals litter the backyard, rain bounces off the patio as it pelts down, and puddles form underneath the fruit trees.
As I’m staring out of the back doors while the coffee machine whirs and chugs, I’m overcome with a feeling of deep sadness.
