Page 87 of Love and Pancakes (Rockland Falls 1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rhenn

She’s not fooling me. In just a short period of time, I’ve learned so much about that woman, including when her smiles are real or fake. That one she gave me before I came into the bathroom? Fake as hell. And don’t get me started on the slight red tint to her eyes and the fact that they were a bit swollen. She’s been crying. Even me – a man who runs as far away as humanly possible from female tears – knows it.

That’s why I had to step away. I don’t want to see her hurt, and watching a tear fall down her beautiful face would certainly kill me.

When did I become this guy?

Yeah, we both know the answer to that one too.

I take a fast shower, anxious to get back out there. Not just because she’s making me her famous lemon zest and blueberry pancakes, but because I don’t want to waste one second with her. Soon, I’ll be gone, and all I’ll have are my memories to keep me warm at night. I might as well get to making more.

With fresh shorts and T-shirt, I step out of her small bathroom and drop the wet towel in the laundry. The process is familiar and comfortable at this point. All of my stuff is already washed, back on my boat, and ready for my trek back home. When I make my way back to the kitchen, I see she already has the pancakes made and in the middle of the table. The syrup is warming in the bowl of water, something I never in a million years would have thought to do before my working trip to Rockland Falls.

We’re both quiet as we take our seats, fresh cups of coffee placed beside each plate. I sip my black coffee, watching her over the rim of my cup as she eats. Or pretends to eat. I think she’s moving her pancakes around on her plate more than she’s eating them.

“So, what’s on the schedule for today?” I ask, drawing her eyes to mine. Those eyes. Those fucking beautiful eyes that are sure to haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.

Marissa clears her throat and paints on a smile. “I thought maybe we could go to the park for a bit. There’s a walking path that Jensen takes a lot, and a clearing that’s perfect for picnics.”

“Sounds great,” I answer. Honestly, it doesn’t matter much what we do as long as I get to spend my last day here with her.

We chat lightly through breakfast, but there’s a heavy air in the room that’s filled with dread and finality. I hate it. Almost as much as I hate the thought of leaving tomorrow. Nothing about my old life is as appealing as it was before. Sure, I have a great job and a thriving dojo that I love, but what about the rest of it? It means nothing. All of it. Everyone who came before her.

Pushing away those gloomy thoughts, I polish off the best fucking pancakes I’ve ever had. I know what you’re thinking. They’re pancakes. What could make them so amazing for such a daring proclamation? They’re light, fluffy, and a bold combination of flavors. Plus, there’s the woman who makes them. They’re as delicious as she is.

I help her clean up the mess, silently working side by side to tidy up her space. When the dishes are clean and drying and the floors swept, I reach for her hand and pull her against me. “I’m yours for the rest of the day. I don’t care what we do. I just want to spend it with you.” Just before my lips claim hers, I see the flash of pain in her eyes. This goodbye is going to be hard on her, I can tell. I hate that I’m causing her pain.

After kissing the hell out of her, I reluctantly pull away.

“Let me grab some tennis shoes and we can get ready to go,” she says, heading off to her bedroom.

I go over to my overnight bag and grab a fresh pair of socks. Once my shoes are in place, she comes out of her room, her own feet covered in pink and gray walking shoes. “Ready?” I ask, extending my hand. She readily takes it, grabbing four water bottles from the fridge and placing them in the bag I didn’t even notice she had packed.

“Ready.”

Together, we head out the door and off to our first excursion of the day.

* * *

“This is beautiful,” I state, taking a long pull from one of the water bottles and handing it back to her for another drink.

“I don’t come through here much, but my brother does. It’s a bit more rugged than I like,” she says with a shoulder shrug.

The walking path from the park turned into a pretty hearty workout. We’ve snaked our way through the woods, walked up steep inclines, and wound our way along the river. We’ve actually found ourselves at the waterfall, but this time from the opposite side. The rocks are jagged and slippery as the water rushes past, making it too dangerous to be on the cliff, so we just stand there, both of us breathing heavy from the trek up, and watch the rushing waters.

“Let’s sit and rest for a bit,” I tell her, taking the backpack off and setting it on a flat rock. Marissa retrieves the food inside and hands me a Ziploc baggie. “What’s this?” I ask opening the package and pulling out the sandwich. When I realize what it is, I can’t help but laugh. “PB and J?”

“Only the best PB and J sandwich ever made! The jelly is fresh from a farm on the other side of town. We’ve been serving it at the bed and breakfast for years. You seem like the type who would appreciate blueberry rhubarb jelly.”

My mouth waters as I take my first bite. “Holy shit, that’s amazing,” I say right before taking my second bite.

“Right? It’s my favorite of all her jellies. Well, that and apple butter.”

I moan in pleasure as I think about all the ways she could use apple butter for breakfast. “I love apple butter. My grandma used to make it when I was little.”

“Sooo good,” she moans as she takes her first bite.

---