Without warning, he wraps his hands around my waist and hauls me up, setting me on the edge of the bathroom counter. I let go a little squeal and he steps in between my legs. He’s even closer to me now and I tip my head back, meeting his troubled gaze.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he whispers. “I want to tell you, but I can’t.”
I touch his face and he leans into my palm, closing his eyes. I study his beautiful face and I’m consumed by the urge to kiss him. Lose myself in him.
“Keeping it all bottled up inside isn’t healthy.” I stroke his cheek and he opens his eyes. “You really should talk to someone.” I’m trying to make him realize I want to be the one he talks to about whatever’s bothering him.
“I can’t.”
“All right. Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.” I drop my hand from his face and prop myself on the edge of the tiled counter, lifting up as best as I can, and press a kiss to his cheek. I want him to know that I’ll be there for him no matter what. I don’t care what sort of secrets he’s hiding—and I have a feeling they’re pretty awful—I want to stand by him and help him.
He might be more trouble than he’s worth but I don’t think so. This man came into my life for some reason. Just as I came into his. Maybe we’re supposed to help each other cope.
Or give each other hope.
~* Chapter Nine *~
Day 4, 1:12 p.m.
She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; she is woman, and therefore to be won. – William Shakespeare
Drew
I took Fable to lunch as a sort of thank you for putting up with my shit. What I did to her last night was inexcusable, but somehow she found a way to forgive me. She’s so good to me I don’t know what I did to deserve her.
Buying her a nice lunch is such a lame attempt to show my appreciation, but it’s all I’ve got. What I really want to do to show my thanks, I don’t think she’d be very receptive to. Despite the sweet kiss on the cheek she gave me last night and the reassuring hug she offered before we both went to bed, they definitely had more of a sisterly vibe than a I’m-hot-for-you vibe.
Too bad, because she’s driving me crazy and I’m having a hard time concentrating. I’d rather take her to bed, strip her na**d and bury myself inside her so I can forget, for at least a little while. I want to map every inch of her skin with my mouth. I want to sit with her in my arms and kiss her for hours, until our lips are swollen and our jaws are tired. I want to know what she looks like when she comes. And I want to be the one who makes her come with my name falling from her lips.
I have never felt this way before about any girl. Ever. I sound like a complete pussy, but Fable overwhelms me—in a good way. And I’ve known her less than a week.
Sometimes, I guess that’s all it takes.
“I love this restaurant.” She looks around after the waitress brought us our plates, the smile on Fable’s face the happiest I’ve seen her since I brought her to this town where I grew up. “It’s so cute. And the food smells amazing.”
Everything in downtown Carmel is what I’d label as cute. It’s got a doll-like feel to it, lots of cottages everywhere and everything’s tiny, all the narrow passages and secret hideaways. It’s like a fairy tale.
“Dig in,” I encourage because I’m starving and ready to take my own advice. I ordered a chicken club sandwich while Fable ordered some sort of Asian chicken salad. I take a couple of bites, so involved in stuffing my mouth full of food, I’m missing out on the look of pure bliss on Fable’s face as she eats.
I set the sandwich on my plate, completely transfixed. It’s ridiculous, my reaction to her. Doesn’t help that I’m horny as hell and everything she does seems to turn me on.
But she’s really enjoying that salad. Her eyes are half-closed and she’s wearing this dreamy expression. She licks her lips, the sight of her pink tongue doing me in and I swallow hard, my appetite for food suddenly gone.
My appetite for Fable comes roaring to life instead.
“This is amazing. Like, the best dressing I’ve ever tasted.” She looks at me, her delicate brows bunched. “Are you okay? I thought you were hungry?”
“Uhh…” Busted.
“You’re not eating. You don’t like it?” Her concern is sweet, but this has nothing to do with a freaking sandwich and everything to do with her. How much I want her.
And I want her pretty damn bad.
For once, I’m ready to just go with this and not worry about the consequences. We’re attracted to each other. She won’t have any expectations, and neither do I. My turbulent past can be pushed away and replaced—at least temporarily—with new memories I can make here with Fable.
“The sandwich’s good.” I take another bite to prove it and she smiles her approval before she starts back in on her salad.
It hits me then that we’re on a lunch date. I’m the most pathetic twenty-one-year old guy alive. I play football, I get good grades in college, I have girls dying to go out with me, and I’ve never really taken a girl on a date. Have no idea how to be in a relationship. My past has turned me off of all that stuff and I’ve let it rule me for far too long.
“Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving,” Fable says after she takes a drink of her iced tea. “Does your family have a big get together or what?”
“Not really.” Well, we haven’t since my sister Vanessa died, but I’m not going there. Too heavy of a topic today. “The last few years we’ve gone on vacation during Thanksgiving.”
“How fun.” Her smile is sweet but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s just saying that because she thinks I expect her to. She sees how f**ked up we all are.
She’s the first person who’s figured that out.
“Besides, most of my dad’s family is on the east coast. My dad is from New York originally,” I continue.
“Really?” She wipes her mouth with a white cloth napkin, then drops it into her lap. My gaze settles on her lips. They’re plump, a pretty shade of pink and I’m dying to taste them again.
It’s like I woke up this morning with sex on the brain. Pretty accurate, considering the morning wood I was sporting. I’d dreamed of her, misty, out of focus images of the two of us tangled in the sheets. She’s consuming me and I’m letting it happen. Reveling in it, really.
“Yeah. My mom was from there, too.” I frown. I don’t want to think about her either.
“Have you gone back and visited?”
“Not in years, but yeah. My grandparents live in a walkup in Brooklyn. It’s a totally different way of life there.” I’d like to go back. My grandma and grandpa are still alive but they’re old and they might not be around much longer.
But they don’t really like Adele so we didn’t go see them much.
“I’d love to go there sometime.” She sighs wistfully. “I’ve always wanted to see New York City.”
“It’s an experience, that’s for sure.” I wish I could take her. Totally presumptive of me but I’m compelled with the need to make her happy. Show her stuff that I know her life won’t allow her to see.
“Tell me something,” I say when we’re finished eating and waiting for the waitress to bring us the check.
“What do you want to know?” Wariness flits in her eyes and it calls to me. We’re more alike than I ever thought and I find that reassuring.
“How did you get your name?” When she frowns, I continue. “Fable. You have to admit, it’s pretty unusual.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks turn pink, like she’s embarrassed, and she drops her gaze to the table. “My mom. She’s…different. When I was born, she took one look at me and declared me a wise soul. Supposedly she knew without hesitation I’d have many stories to tell. At least, that’s what she told me when I was around five. My grandma said the same.”
“A wise soul, huh?” I study her and those big, fathomless green eyes are looking right back. She does seem so much more mature than other girls I know our age. She’s dealt with a lot more too. It’s like she takes care of everyone. So who takes care of Fable? “Do you have a lot of stories to tell?”
She slowly shakes her head, her cheeks darkening to crimson. “My life is infinitely boring.”
“I doubt that.” I find her mysterious. She puts on a front, like she’s tough and takes no shit but I get the sense that there’s a giant vulnerable side to her.
“If you’re referring to my supposed sexual escapades, really. Totally boring. There’s nothing to tell. Most of the stories floating around out there aren’t true anyway.” Her mouth is screwed up so tight after that statement, her lips practically disappear.
I’m momentarily taken aback by what she said. I’m trying to get to know her, not pry into her private business and her sexual past. I’m certainly not ready to go there yet. I don’t know if I ever will be. “I don’t care about any of that.”
“Yet it’s precisely why you chose me to be your fake girlfriend.” The hurt in her voice is unmistakable. By choosing her, I’ve hurt this already damaged girl. The fact makes me feel like shit.
“I’m not going to lie. You’re right.” Reaching across the table, I take her hand in mine and entwine our fingers. Hers are slender and so very cold. I give them a squeeze in the hopes I can warm them up. “But now, I’m really glad I chose you.”
Her gaze meets mine once more, stark and wide and I feel like I just bared my soul. “I’m glad you chose me too,” she admits, her voice so soft I almost didn’t hear her.
A rush of emotion burns through me and I try my best to keep it easy and light between us. But inside, I’m reeling. We make small talk and I pay the bill yet all I can think about is her. How much I want her. How easy she’s snuck into my life and I can’t imagine her out of it.
Completely crazy.
Plus, whatever happened last night eased the tension between us and we’re a lot more open with each other this afternoon. So open that when we leave the café and head up the steep sidewalk toward where I parked my truck, I grab her hand and she lets me hold it.
Like we’re a real couple.
“Smells like rain,” Fable murmurs and I glance up at the sky, notice the dark, swollen clouds hanging low.
“Yeah, it does.” The first drop hits the moment I say the words and she smiles and laughs, the sound sliding over me, twisting me up inside. I love the sound and I want to hear her do it again.
Fat raindrops start to fall and we stop and look at each other. I tighten my hold on her hand and we start to walk faster, as if we can escape the rain as it comes down harder and harder. Until we’re in the middle of torrential downpour and we’re getting soaked to the bone.
“How far did we park again?” she asks. The rain is coming down so hard, I can barely hear her.
“Way too far.” I went to a public lot so I wouldn’t have to worry about the parking meters and now I wish I hadn’t done that. The sidewalks are already virtually abandoned, the rain is really starting to come down in sheets and we still have blocks to go.
“Maybe we should duck into a store and wait it out for a bit,” she suggests.
That would work, but I see a better solution. Dragging her with me, I slip inside a narrow alleyway that I know leads to an artist’s studio and gallery. The alley is completely covered overhead, thick ivy growing along the sides and across the trellis that’s built there. It’s dark and safe from the rain and little white twinkle lights have been strewn amongst the ivy in preparation for the upcoming holiday season.
It’s downright magical and I notice how Fable stares up at it in wonder, her lips parted, her eyes wide. She turns to look at me, her long blonde hair sopping wet, her cheeks sprinkled with raindrops. Without thought, I reach out and wipe the droplets away with my thumb, first from one cheek, then the other. A tremble moves through her and she presses her lips together, her gaze dropping to the ground.
“Cold?” I murmur. I’m overwhelmed with the need to touch her, to keep on touching her. She’s somehow become my lifeline.
Fable slowly shakes her head, lifts her gaze to meet mine once more. “This spot, it’s so pretty. Are you sure it’s okay if we hide out here for a few?”
“Yeah. Definitely.” I pull her into me because I can’t resist and she comes willingly, staring at my lips. We’re sharing the same thoughts and that fills me with relief. She wants this as much as I do.
But she’s so tiny, I tower over her and I glance around, spot the low wooden bench that’s to the right of us. I grab her by her waist, making her squeak and I set her on top of it so now she’s the one who’s taller than me.
“What are you doing?” She settles her hands on my shoulders, her fingers digging into the wet fabric of my shirt.
“Letting you take the lead,” I say, hoping she will. Damn, I want her to. So bad, it’s killing me. I rest my hands on her hips, wishing she wasn’t wearing jeans. Really wishing she wasn’t wearing anything at all and that we’re somewhere else, back at the guesthouse, her body tucked beneath mine as we explore each other with our hands and mouths.
Being with Fable frees me. I wish I would’ve realized it sooner.
Fable
Something has changed within Drew since last night. Where before he was tense and secretive, today he seems more open and happier than I’ve ever seen him. Since we’ve come here, we’ve talked, we fought, we talked some more and somehow that’s brought us closer together.