Page 62 of Pretty Relentless

He’s in my brain—and on my heart—like a tattoo.

And what’s surprising is the fact I like him there.

Chapter Eighteen

Gavin

It’s been about two weeks.

Two whole weeks in which I’ve only been able to steal texts, late-night phone calls, and one surprise drop-off to her house when she was resting. After our date to St. Paul with the rock climbing and dinner, we planned to sneak away Wednesday night, but that was foiled when she got sick. She spent three days at home, completely under the weather, which was why I made the surprise drop-off on Thursday night. I wanted to go in. I wanted to take care of her and hold her in my arms, but I refrained. Instead, I left her blue Gatorade, ibuprofen, chicken noodle soup, and Kleenex.

By the time she was feeling better, it was Saturday and the kickoff to my week with Annabelle. Unfortunately, by mid-afternoon on Saturday, my daughter started feeling bad. This started the cycle of sickness that then passed from her to me. I tried to stick it out at work but ended up taking two days off myself. Ava ended up reciprocating, dropping off a homemade potato soup, along with electrolytes and cold medicine while Annabelle was sleeping. I wanted to go outside, to see her and hold her in my arms, but I didn’t want to risk reinfecting her with this aggressive sickness that seemed to make its way through the streets and buildings of Pine Village at a rapid pace.

Fortunately, it’s now Saturday again, almost two weeks after our date, and my daughter is with her mother. I have big plans for tonight. Ava will be coming over shortly for dinner, and we’re planning to watch a new documentary just released on a streaming site. It’s the first time she’ll be here, in my house, andI honestly can’t wait. I’ve made arrangements for her to pull her car into my garage bay, so nosy neighbors won’t be staring at her car, trying to figure out who’s at my house.

As the clock approaches five, I turn my attention to watching the driveway. I told her I’d open the door, so the moment I spot her slowly pulling in, I press the button on the automatic door opener by my back door. Then, I head out to greet her, anxious to steal my first kiss in almost two weeks.

“Hi,” I say the moment her door opens.

She gives me a smile that makes my heart beat a little faster and my cock start to thicken in my jeans. She takes my offered hand and starts to climb from her little SUV. “Hello.”

There it is.

That faint blush I can’t get enough of. I knew I missed her, but seeing her now, pulling her into my arms, makes me realize to what extent. The moment my lips connect with hers, I feel…lighter. Freer. Happier than I have any right to be.

“I’ve been needing that for almost two weeks,” I confess, wanting to deepen the kiss, but knowing this isn’t the right spot. “Let’s go inside,” I add, shutting her car door and reaching for her hand.

“Hold on,” she replies, opening the back door and pulling a container from the seat. “I made cookies.”

“Chocolate chip?”

“Is there any other kind?” she teases with a grin. In one of our many text conversations, we discussed sweet treats, and both concur there’s nothing better than fresh, chewy chocolate chip cookies. Except maybe warm ones with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top.

“Come on,” I say, pressing the button to lower the garage door.

“How about a quick tour while dinner finishes?” I offer the moment coats are hung up and boots are off.

“Absolutely,” she agrees, setting the container of cookies on the counter by the Crock-Pot and following me through the house.

“You did these cabinets, didn’t you?” she asks before we even leave the first room.

“I did.”

“They’re stunning,” she replies, touching the smooth oak wood.

“I love using white oak, but wanted to avoid the traditional honey coloring, so I used a darker Jacobean stain with a lighter backsplash to add contrast.”

“Beautiful,” she insists. “You do amazing work.”

“Thank you.” I clear my throat and take her hand once more. “Come on. We’ve got more to cover.”

She points out her favorite features in each room we visit, and it’s not lost on me they’re all things I’ve built. Bookcases, Annabelle’s bed, tables, and more. All projects I’ve worked on in my free time, mostly when Annabelle was with her mom. Creating stuff was the perfect way to keep my mind busy while I was alone, and even though I don’t consider myself a furniture builder by any stretch of the imagination, I’m proud of the pieces I’ve created.

Construction is my passion.

Furniture is a fun hobby.

When we reach the final room on the tour, I stand back and allow her to enter my bedroom first. She walks in slowly, taking it all in for the first time. The massive California king-sized bed takes up most of the space, and I can’t help but picture her lying in it. With me. Naked.

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