When I'm with You (Hope Town #3)(53)
She gives me a soft look of compassion. “I think you’re underestimating him. The only thing I can tell you is to ride it out and let him do what he said he was going to do. Prove that he’s worth giving your heart to.”
We continue to talk about a whole lot of nothing after that, and by the time I felt him climb into my bed and pull me into his arms, my head was a lot clearer. I’m still a little nervous about what’s to come, but seeing things through her eyes makes me look at them from another perspective.
One where he really might be the one afraid of getting hurt this time.
SATURDAY
By the time I realized that my daily deliveries weren’t going to stop anytime soon, I started looking up places where I could share the happiness Nate was literally raining upon me. Sal showed up, surly as ever, and instead of taking today’s nine vases inside, I had him help me load them in my car. It was a tight fit with all twenty-seven vases total that I had received since Wednesday, but we made it work. I think he actually cracked a smile when I told him I had planned to drop them off at the local nursing homes, but it was short-lived and he left with another promise to see me tomorrow. I didn’t mention anything about it being Sunday and I would most likely not see him.
At this point, I wasn’t sure when they would stop, but Nate was determined to make a point and I was loving every second of it. Which is why I decided to pass them out at nursing homes. Seeing the look on some of the elderly patients was the best feeling in the world, but hearing that I was the only one who had visited the vast majority of them in years solidified my decision to share Nate’s love. Of course, I planned to talk to him tonight when he came over for dinner now that I had given the majority of them away. I probably would have kept each one, but after almost breaking my neck on one of them earlier, I realized that I couldn’t keep the overwhelming amount I had.
I hear his truck pull into my driveway right when I pulled dinner out of the oven, and I felt giddy with happiness that he was here. I continue getting dinner ready as I dish out the lasagna onto our plates and the sounds of him greeting Bam reach my ears.
Just when I had put them down on the table, I feel him.
His arms go around my middle and his mouth presses against my exposed neck, making me shiver. I straighten and wrap my arms over his as he continues to kiss up my neck until he has his lips at my ear. “You smell good enough to eat.”
“I think that’s dinner,” I joke.
“No, definitely not dinner,” he rumbles and presses his erection against my back. “I love food, but food doesn’t make me hard.”
“You’re a man. Food is like number one on the makes you hard list.”
“Not true,” he groans when I push against him. “You’re number one through fifty on that list.”
“And what’s fifty-one?”
“Probably porn, but I haven’t tested that since I haven’t watched a single one in weeks.”
I throw my head back against his shoulder and laugh.
“Damn, it’s good to have you in my arms.”
Still laughing, I turn to look up into his eyes with a smile. “You’ve been in my bed every night. Me in your arms. You’re good for my ego when you act like you haven’t seen me in years.”
His lips are smiling as he gives me a brief kiss—one that had dinner not been ready, I’m sure we would have gotten lost in—before resting his forehead against mine.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi.” I sigh.
“Thanks for making me lasagna. I’ve been craving that for days.”
I shrug as if it’s no big deal. The last thing I’m going to admit is that I hate cooking the dish and only did it for him. Hell, no. Not when he’s looking at me like I’m the answer to his prayers.
“Come on; let me let you feed your man before I forget about dinner and demand dessert first.”
He has to turn and literally push me into my seat after that comment because the thought alone is enough to make me want to forget all about dinner myself.
“Are you ready for your show next weekend?” he asks a little while later, after he’s devoured his third huge plate of lasagna.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. I’m nervous, but Annabelle seems confident that I shouldn’t be.”
“It’s normal to be nervous, Em. This is your first solo show? Right?”
I finish swallowing my bite before wiping my mouth. “Kind of. I had one when I had just finished school, but it wasn’t this big. Things kind of got a little crazy when Annabelle discovered me. She’s featured my paintings for the last two years, and they sell within an hour of going on display, so I know I shouldn’t be worried, but it’s a lot different when you’re the only artist on display. More pressure somehow, I guess.”
“She’s the one?”
I tilt my head in confusion. “The one?”
“The one who went to one of your art school’s showcases and freaked out about you right in the middle of it, right?”
“How did you know about that?”
“Uh, I probably shouldn’t admit this at the risk of sounding pathetic, but I was there.”
I can feel the shock on my face. He was there? I knew that the majority of our group had been there, but I didn’t remember seeing him. Then again, I had been about as close to freaking out as it got when the Annabelle Kingston, the owner of the largest gallery in Atlanta, had started dancing and screaming in front of one of my pieces. She had taken me under her wing before I even finished school, each of my paintings turning in a higher and higher profit. Here I am, two years later, debt free, in my own home, and my own show proving that I am—in fact—a successful artist.