"My God," Drew said. "Whoever knew delivering cakes was such hard work?" He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and downed half of it in one gulp. "Ah," he said, smacking his lips. "That hit the spot.” He pressed the cold bottle to his forehead and sighed at the feeling of relief. "Want one?"
"No thanks," she said. "I will take some of Nancy's sweet tea, though." She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and handed it to Drew. He added ice, then filled it to the brim with tea.
"Delicious," she said, setting her glass on the counter, half empty already. "It's funny how everybody always thinks delivering the cake is the easy part. I only do about half the work in the kitchen. A lot of my cakes are very complex designs with multiple layers that have to be assembled on site."
"Yeah, I get that, now." He grabbed another beer and hopped onto the counter to take a seat. "No wonder Jordan was so happy for me to take over. Seriously, though," he said, "you really are talented, Mandy. Your cakes are beautiful."
"Thank you." It meant so much to hear him say that. Especially after the way he'd teased her about it when he first came back into town. The fact that he seemed to be trying to understand her went a long way toward proving his sincerity in her eyes. "You know your mom will freak if she sees you sitting on the counter."
Drew laughed. "That's not the worst thing we've done on it."
Miranda flushed. It might be true, but it was a long time ago, and she wasn't willing to go there now. "Don't talk about that, Drew. What if somebody hears you?"
"Who cares? We're adults, Mandy. It's not like they could ground us, or something." He rolled his eyes and shook his head at her look of dismay. "All right," he said. "I'll get down."
He sprung from the counter and landed inches from her. They stood there, face to face, neither of them daring to move.
"Drew?" Miranda whispered. Her face was flushed, and her hands felt cold and clammy, her stomach queasy with anticipation. She was sure he was going to kiss her, and this time she was equally sure she was going to let him.
She leaned in, just a little. Knowing she wouldn't say no to his kiss, but unwilling to admit, even to herself, that she needed it. Craved it. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the music someone had left playing in the den. Soft and slow. Inviting. Just as she knew he would be. Her heart fluttered when she felt his breath upon her lips.
His lips brushed, feather-light, against hers, and she parted her own, drawing him in. His mouth was warm and sweet, and she felt as if their bodies were melting into one. The other night, when he first kissed her, was magical, but it was different this time. She could sense the change in him. Love and tenderness poured from his kiss in a way it never had before, even in their early days together. It was like his soul was reaching out to hers. Her heart broke as she thought of all the sleepless nights she had spent praying for him to come home. Wishing for him to love her like this. But, it was too late. She could not expose her heart to that kind of misery again.
∞ ∞ ∞
Drew had meant to pull away. Give her a quick, gentle, kiss on the lips, then call it a night. Just a taste, a little teaser of what may come. But her response—so soft and yielding and something he couldn't quite pinpoint, bordering on trust—made him give even more, instead. Somehow, he'd resisted the primal urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her upstairs to his bedroom. Hell, at that point, he'd have settled for reliving the counter-top experience. But, he knew he had to take it slow with her if he ever wanted to have a decent chance. He had to show her he could be the man she needed him to be.
So, he tried to show her with his kiss what he couldn't put into words. He was filled with such an intense desire to please her, it completely overwhelmed him. More than lust. More than desire. More, even, than love. It was an indescribable feeling in his soul. A knowing, somehow. And, it was scary as hell.
She was his. No matter what. She always would be.
He could sense how conflicted she was and knew that she was starting to withdraw. It took all he had to pull away from her, but he knew it was better for him to pull away than for her to have to push him. He had to be patient. He was home to stay now. There would be other nights. Other chances.
“I—I’m sorry Drew," she stammered. "I—uh—I really need to check on Tommy and go to bed. It's late."
She barely gave him a chance to nod his head before taking off up the back stairwell. Drew grabbed the rest of the six pack out of the refrigerator and headed toward his own room. He was prepared to be patient, but he didn't have to be sober to do it.