Page 71 of Pretty Relentless

Brushing my lips across hers, I trail my finger over her cheek, memorizing the feel of her soft skin. “I’ve got all weekwithout Annabelle, so if you want to have dinner or hang out, just let me know.”

“I’d like that. I’m having dinner with my sister’s family on Tuesday, but otherwise, I’m wide open.”

“Sounds good.” This time, I deepen the kiss. If I’m not going to get to touch or kiss her for more than a day, I’m going to need something to carry me through.

I pry my mouth away from hers, even though I’d rather not. “I’ll text you later, if that’s okay.”

She gives me a gentle grin. “I’d like that. Have fun with your parents.”

Ava climbs behind the wheel of her vehicle and waits for me to shut the door. Once she’s started the car, I open the garage door and watch as she slowly backs out. It’s after four and the sky is turning dark, so hopefully no one notices the woman leaving my garage. Not that I’d care, but I know Ava wants to remain private for a while. At least until my daughter is out of her class.

I totally understand and support her decision, but the moment Annabelle is officially moving on to sixth grade, all bets are off.

I want Ava. I want to be able to walk down the sidewalk, holding her hand. I want to sit across from her at the diner and share a meal. I want to kiss her in the park—okay, maybe not the park, but somewhere public, and I want everyone to see. Not to show her off, but to show the entire town how much I want her and how amazing she is.

I want them to know she’s taken.

And she is, even if in just my mind.

We’ve not had the whole exclusive relationship conversation, but I know we are. Neither of us are serial daters or bounce from bed to bed. Sure, I’ve had a few girlfriends overthe years, but none I’ve wanted to stand in the middle of the city square and declare my feelings for.

Ava makes me want to do that. To stand up and tell the world how I feel about her.

But let’s not get into that right now. Because the truth is, I care about her. A lot. This isn’t just a crush anymore. I’m developing real feelings, and with each moment we’re together, those feelings grow. I can see myself falling for her, and despite the fact I should be a little worried to even think that right now after a few weeks, I’m not. Not worried in the least.

Because something tells me she’s worth it.

Worth the risks and the potential heartache that comes with falling for someone.

Once she’s gone, I close the garage door and return to my house to retrieve my keys and wallet. I could probably take the leftover cookies she baked, but I’m gonna be stingy and keep those for myself. Besides, my mom always makes desserts to go along with dinner, so I might as well just leave them here.

When I have my things, I lock up the house and return to the garage. My truck is parked in the first bay, but before I climb inside, I take a moment to study the empty space beside it. I liked having her vehicle here, in my garage. Hopefully soon, we won’t have to hide when she’s here, and if her car is parked in my garage, it’s because it simply belongs there, not because we’re trying to conceal it. Annabelle will be so excited to know I’m seeing her favorite teacher.

But that seems like forever away. Annabelle has about four months left of school. That’s four months of sneaking around and hiding my relationship with Ava.

Just as I start to back out, my phone rings. My ex-wife’s name comes up on the screen, and I’m certain it’s my daughter calling, which makes me smile. “Hello, beautiful girl.”

“Hi, Dad. Whatcha doing?”

“On my way to Grandma and Grandpa’s for dinner.”

“Awwww, I wish I could go, but we’re getting ready to leave for dinner.”

“Where ya going?” I ask, heading in the direction of my parents’ house.

“The steakhouse. Mike and Mikey are going too.”

“I’m sure that’ll be fun,” I reply.

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna have the chicken tenders?” I ask, knowing what response I’ll get.

“Is there anything else to eat there?” she teases. She’s ordered the chicken tenders and fries for as long as I can possibly remember.

“Maybe someday you’ll actually try the steak. It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, maybe someday, but today’s not that day.”

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