Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)(34)

“Not until Memorial Day weekend. So end of the month.”

“Do you go?”

“I go for the food.” He looked at me as he pulled into his drive. “I love corndogs.”

“Do they have those lemonade things?”

“Lemon Shakeups? Uh, yeah. They’re awesome. Good with vodka, too.”

He turned off the ignition and we both climbed out. I walked slowly to the front of the vehicle, waiting on him.

“You look really good,” he said and reached his hand out to hold mine. “Come on.”

I didn’t hesitate, because I didn’t want it to seem like a big deal.

But it was.

It was huge.

The biggest, hugest f*cking deal that had happened all day.

He walked behind me as we climbed the five or six steps on his back deck. Then he said, “Really, really good.”





O’Fallon didn’t look different, exactly, but there were small alterations, and she had a new glow about her I hadn’t seen before. There was a sway in the way she walked—and Christ, those jeans.

Those damn jeans.

That ass.

Holy God.

“Jennifer? Chelsea? Samantha?” I guessed as she walked ahead through the back door into my kitchen.

“Keep trying.”

I wasn’t going to be defeated. I was going to get her name that night. Or I’d be waving the white flag of surrender, and praying she didn’t hold it against me. Unless she wanted to literally hold it against me, then I’d have to reconsider.

“Still don’t want a hint?” she asked, leaning on my island.

Then she saw the candy bar, and subtly picked it up in recognition and aimed it at me before setting it back down. I winked at her, acknowledging that she was pleased I’d remembered the kind she liked.

Tell me your name and I’ll share it with you.

“Not yet, but I have to be getting close. Want some wine or a beer?”

“I’ll take a beer. Need me to do anything?”

I opened the back door and pulled two beers from my cooler, placing them both on the counter, and I reached behind her for the magnetic bottle opener stuck to my refrigerator.

“I don’t think so. I just need to warm up the grill. Everything else is ready to go.”

“What are we having?”

“Steak and grilled vegetables.” Her smile was all the approval I needed.

I could hardly keep my eyes off of her. Her hair looked so soft, her lips so kissable. Her eyes were sucking the willpower right out of me.

“Nicole?”

“I think you’ve already guessed that one.” She laughed. “You can give up whenever you want.”

As she spoke, she leaned forward a little and looked down at the counter. How could a woman who was competent in so many interesting ways be so insecure in these situations?

It didn’t matter. I liked that she was independent, and I totally dug the fact that she let me see her look vulnerable, too.

“Carry my beer out and I’ll bring the rest?”

She did what I asked and I grabbed the two dishes out of the fridge that had all of my prepped food, ready for the flames.

Again, my eyes found her ass and I realized whether I got to kiss her or not was irrelevant. I could just look at her and be satisfied.

For now.




“I broke my right arm, too,” she admitted as we ate, sharing stories of old battle wounds. “Pins?”

“No. Clean break.” I took a long swallow of my beer, and decided it was my last.

“Two here, and two up here,” she explained as she pulled at the shoulder of the white jacket she was wearing. Her bare shoulder showed off a patch of copper freckles and a collarbone that made my pants tight. There was something so sensual about it, but I wasn’t sure why.

I adjusted myself quickly and started packing up our dinner dishes.

“No, let me.” She stood and smacked my hand away. “You cooked. I’ll clean this up.”

“It wasn’t really cooking, it was the grill.”

“Good, then even less for me to wash.”

She put our napkins and silverware on the plates, and I noticed she hadn’t eaten any of the zucchini in the vegetables. I didn’t say anything. She didn’t show any mercy on her steak, though, but neither had I.

Some of my best grilling to date.

“But you can come in and talk to me,” she offered as she stacked the plates on top of each other.

I followed like a puppy.

She ran water in the sink and rinsed off the dishes, while I cleaned up the counter and noticed how much I liked having her there with me. And how already I didn’t have very many memories in that house without her in them.

When she stopped by that first day, when I was unpacking and trying to get my things situated, it was nice having someone else there. Having her advice on paint and telling me where the furniture would look best was welcome help.

It was changing. I was feeling things much stronger than I had in those first few days. I wasn’t just curious about her, I was starting to learn some things. We were getting to know each other, and in some ways it seemed like I was the only one she’d ever been able to relax around. On more than one occasion she’d said that she’d never told anyone this or that. She didn’t have to put up a front with me. She was just herself.