When I'm with You (Hope Town #3)(59)

“That would be right.”

“You going to fight me on where she goes tonight?”

“With everything I have.”

He smiles, a ghost of one that is almost not even noticeable. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Remember what I said, Nate. Accidents happen.”

I nod, lifting the frame I still have in my hands and hold it out to him. He takes it as I wait for him to see what I’m hoping he does. His throat works as his eyes roam over every inch of the picture. I wait and hope that he sees it.

“Even back then.” Not a question because even a fool would know the answer to that.

“Even back then,” I parrot.

“I see. Take my advice then. Don’t wait to tell her that you love her.”

He continues to hold the frame when I see Emmy and Lee walking from the front door with three suitcases and two huge duffle bags between the two of them. I’m not sure which one of them I need to thank for making sure she was heavily packed because if I have things my way, she won’t be back here even when the repairs are done.





“He really didn’t say anything to you?”

I laugh at Ember’s question, something she’s been asking since we got out of our shared shower and climbed into my bed.

“He didn’t, baby. He’s a smart man, and he knew it was time to let you go.”

“Oh, wow.”

“You expected something different?”

She lifts her head from my shoulder and studies my face for a while, not giving anything away with her expression.

“Well, yeah. I mean it was one of the reasons that you said we could never be together. I just assumed that you could see something in him that I couldn’t. I’ve been worried about how he would handle us now because of that.”

Well, shit. I feel like she just kicked me in the balls.

“Damn, baby.”

“Don’t say you’re sorry, Nate. I didn’t bring it up to make you feel bad, just pointing out that is what I had worried about when it came to us coming out, so to speak, and what his reaction might be. I understand why you said it back then, and I even agree.”

“You do?” I ask, shocked.

“Yeah, and it doesn’t matter now. We came out on top in the end.”

“Yeah, I reckon we did.”

She settles back down and starts to rub her hand on my torso. “Do you think my flowers will make it?”

I smile into the darkness around us. “Not sure, Em. Doesn’t matter, though. I need to call in the morning and get your last couple of deliveries moved here.”

She jerks in my arms. “There’s more?” She gasps.

“Two more.”

“Two more,” she breathily repeats.

“Yeah, baby. One thousand five hundred and twelve in total. That’s roughly one rose for every day I’ve missed since the night you graduated.”

Her silence stretches out so long I wonder if she fell asleep, but when her breath hitches violently in her throat, I adjust our bodies so I can see her tear-streaked face.

“Ember?”

“That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” she sobs.

Without a clue as to how to calm her down, I frame her face and just kiss her deeply.





I HANG UP MY PHONE feeling like, if he were in the same room as I was, I would physically hurt my father. When I showed up at my house two days after the fire—one that had been ruled an accident by faulty wiring—to find him directing a cleaning crew and movers, I snapped. Well, actually, I just gave him a hard look and got into my car to head back to Nate’s without a word. With my show only a few days away, I need to focus on making sure everything is in order with Annabelle and the gallery.

But now, hearing that he’s already hired contractors and the likes, without talking to me, I’m about to blow a fuse.

“You okay?” Nate asks, coming behind me and wrapping his arms around my chest. The scent of his deliciousness distracts me from why I was in a mood to begin with.

“Fine,” I breathe, trying to take more of his scent in.

“You know, I learned really fast with a sister that when a woman says that word, she means the opposite, but at the risk of making you more upset, I’m just going to leave it at that.”

I sigh. “It’s my dad. He’s taken over the rebuild at my house and even went as far as to move everything I own into storage.”

He hums but doesn’t respond. Instead, I feel his hand start to push up my shirt.

“Nate,” I groan, pushing his hand when I realize something. “Nate!” I try again when he doesn’t stop.

“What?” he says against my neck, biting the flesh between his teeth.

“Stop trying to distract me,” I attempt but only end up moaning shamelessly when he cups my sex through my leggings and starts to move his fingers around through the fabric.

“You like it.”

“Stop,” I pant, shoving out of his wicked hands and turning.

His eyes are burning and his chest is rapidly moving when I look up at him. My eyes move from his chest to the sweatpants that are riding low on his hips, the erection tenting the fabric jerks when my eyes hit it, and I feel a noise deep in my throat in response.