by asking for that sexy text? What if their instant and intense connection when they’d kissed had scared her off? What if she’d expected him to act more remorseful from the get-go? Fuck. He’d tried to find a balance in those moments before he’d first approached her, but there was no balance without forgiveness. There was only survival or falling to his knees, and he wasn’t going to make a scene at the wedding. When he’d gone to her shop to apologize and had seen her with another fucking cowboy, jealousy had taken hold, and he’d wanted only to win her back.
He glanced at the blanket beneath the tree, on which he’d set a loaf of French bread, a box of saltines, and a bottle of wine from Hilltop Vineyards. It was exactly what they’d had the first night Carly had ever gotten drunk. They’d stolen the bottle from his parents’ stash. He’d thought it was romantic to re-create that night, but now his gut clenched with worry. What if the reminders of what they’d had didn’t conjure the same warm feelings for her as they did for him? What if they reminded her of losing Tory and of his leaving?
He caught movement out of his peripheral vision, and his heart nearly stopped. There she was, walking across the grass like an angel illuminated by the setting sun. She slowed, looking over at the blanket, and stopped about ten feet away. Zev held his breath, sure she was going to turn and leave. He’d give anything to get her to stay long enough to talk, to just let him explain himself.
She looked from the blanket to the ground between them. Her hair curtained her face as she shook her head.
He lowered his eyes for a second, trying to calm his nerves, but it was a futile effort. “Just hear me out,” he pleaded.
“Really, Zevy? Is that Hilltop wine?” She lifted her face, a half smile curving her lips.
Relief swept through him. “Stolen from Beau and Char’s wine cellar.”
“Zinfandel?” she asked nervously.
“Is there any other kind?”
When he stepped forward, she met him halfway and said, “You’re playing dirty.” Thankfully she sounded amused, not angry.
He turned his palm up and said, “Cards on the table, Carls. We’re really good at playing dirty.”
She laughed softly again, balm to his fractured heart, and said, “I’m surprised you didn’t bring Bandit. Did Beau forget to warn you about Bandit stealing and hiding things when he’s left alone?”
“I’ve experienced his thievery. I had to use a flimsy hand towel with lace on the edges and a pink heart sewn into it to dry off after my shower this morning. I know Beau and Bandit are a pack, but I’m not used to having a sidekick. I think it’s worth the risk of him stealing something tonight. I wanted to be able to give you my full attention.”
He reached for her hand, but she shook her head and said, “Five-foot rule.”
“Right, sorry.” He waved to the blanket. “Sit and drink, or walk and talk?”
She looked around them. He’d wanted to find someplace neutral, open, where she wouldn’t feel like he was pushing her to kiss him again…or do more. He’d thought about meeting her at the park down the street from her shop, but that didn’t feel neutral enough. Serenity Park was halfway between the inn and Divine Intervention.
“Walk and talk,” she said. “Bring the bottle.”
He grabbed the bottle and said, “It’s probably better if we walk. There are more bushes for you to puke in near the water.”
“Ha ha,” she said sarcastically. “I was thirteen, and I wanted to impress you. It was the first time I’d ever drank alcohol.”
“You impressed me all right, all over my sneakers.”
That soft laugh escaped again, and he took that as a good sign. As they walked toward the lake, he said, “We’ve shared a lot of firsts, haven’t we?”
“Yeah.”
“First girlfriend/boyfriend,” he said, hoping to keep things light for just a little while before he said what he’d come to say. “First kiss. It was a good one, remember?”
“I remember being really nervous, and then the second our lips touched, like magic, all my worries fell away.”
“It’s still magic,” he said, bringing her eyes to his. She quickly looked away, but not before he saw longing and sadness in her eyes. Too much too soon. They needed to talk about that sadness, but he knew it might be the end of their night, and he wasn’t ready for that. He