A New Hope (Thunder Point #8)(49)

Ginger went back outside, pulled in another pot of colorful summer flowers, stopped short just inside the door.

“All this happened in the bed of a pickup truck?” Grace asked. “Ginger, might you have left out some details before.”

“It was so lovely. He had a sleeping bag to spread out, a cooler of soft drinks, a couple of blankets because it gets cold when the sun goes down. He said it was how his parents used to go to the drive-in movie and it was fun. And then all the other people who had driven to the lookout to watch the sunset were gone and it was just us—talking, laughing, kissing. A trooper pulled in to make sure we were all right.” She laughed. “Good thing it hadn’t gone any further, right?”

“Will you call him tonight?”

“Sure. If it isn’t too late when I get home. I’m not playing games here. I don’t mean to punish him. I just think guidelines are important.”

“You could just give him your number,” Grace said.

“I could have, couldn’t I? When I talk to him next, I’ll give it to him if he asks.”

“You might not be playing games,” Grace said. “But you were sending a message, don’t bother to deny it. And he got it.”

“I think we’re done out here,” Ginger said, speaking of the front walk in front of the shop. “Ready for the closed sign?”

“Ready. I’m just going to clean up my office and shut down the computer, then I’m headed home. I suppose you’re going upstairs to wash off the flowers before dinner with the girls?”

“I am. By the way, have I told you how much I love it up there? It’s like a little cocoon. It’s just perfect for me. I nestle in at night, flip through the channels or listen to music, relax, read, check emails on my laptop, fall asleep in my little nest. It’s so wonderful, Grace.”

“I know,” she said, grinning. “You tell me five times a day. Have I told you how wonderful it is having you in charge of the shop, opening and closing, taking orders, giving me so much freedom?”

“Five times a day,” Ginger said.

Ginger went upstairs to shower and change. Tonight was dinner at a Greek restaurant in Bandon and she was looking forward to it very much. It would be Ray Anne, Lou, Carrie, Gina and Gina’s daughter and stepdaughter, Ashley and Eve. Three generations, more or less. With the college girls home for the summer, their group had grown and become even more fun. Ginger got the biggest kick out of these college girls and their stories, even as their mother, grandmother and aunt cringed. She was feeling much better about herself since she started living independently and, in truth, since Matt had tracked her down and apologized. She looked good, felt good and didn’t look at her watch even once.

She was home at a little after nine, kicked off her shoes, dropped onto the couch while still chuckling over one of the funny stories told over dinner. And she thought, Look at me—I have a life. She would not have believed a few short months ago, when she was mired in depression and hopelessness, that she could have this—laughter and enthusiasm and anticipation. She couldn’t believe she’d ever look like she was among the living, much less look in the mirror and actually admire the reflection.

She heard tapping at her back door and wondered if Ray Anne needed something or if someone was looking for flowers. But she opened the door to Matt’s frowning but so handsome face.

“If you don’t want me in your life anymore, you have to tell me to my face,” he said.

She laughed and stepped back so he could come in.

“That’s funny?” he asked irritably.

“Well, yes. Not talking to a guy never worked for me before. Usually they could care less. I just got home, Matt. You came all this way? I was going to call you.”

“You were?”

“I said I would,” she told him. “And there is no reason I wouldn’t. You came all this way because I got a new phone number?”

“I came all this way because I have to apologize,” he said.

Again she smiled. Their first dinner together, the beginning of a most unexpectedly lovely relationship, had been about apology. “Since you really excel at apologies, I look forward to it.”

He shut the door behind him, slid an arm around her waist and deftly brought her mouth up to his, kissing her. She was bent over his arm and hung on to his shoulders to keep from crumpling to the floor. His kiss was hot and demanding and delicious. Then he moved, his hands on her face, holding her against him, covering her mouth with an almost desperate heat. Her lips opened for him, and he swept the inside of her mouth with his tongue, and she not only allowed this but welcomed it. She held him close, moaning. Sighing. It was a very long time before he let her go even enough to speak. He panted eagerly.

“Well. You’re pretty messed up,” she said. “We really have to talk. Maybe a little later...” And she went back to his lips, her arms around his neck.

“I couldn’t give you up if I wanted to,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.” Then he sighed and put his lips against her neck, holding her close. “God, I thought you’d given up on me.”

“But you’re the one who disappeared, not me.”

“I know. I know. I’m not good at this, haven’t you figured that out yet?”

She laughed as she ran her fingers through his thick, black hair. “Oh, I don’t know, you’re pretty good...” She pulled back a little so she could look into those troubled, coal-black eyes. “I don’t know what you’re holding inside, but if you don’t get it out pretty soon, you’re going to start getting headaches.”