Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Zane

I slide the black T-shirt over my body and wait for Autumn to recompose herself and join me in the bedroom. Eventually, she emerges, and it’s cute seeing those clothes on her. I haven’t seen them since the last time I was here, and there is no way they’d ever fit me again.

The rain still falls heavily outside, and she stands beside me.

“Can we go out there?” she asks.

“Sure,” I tell her, sliding the door open. The cool breeze whips around us.

“Do you still snowboard?”

“Occasionally, but never in the same capacity as I did. It’s why I split my time between New York and Washington. I might trade the last one for Cozy Creek.” I turn to her and there is fire in her eyes. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

“Okay,” she says, staring out into the darkness. “I won’t. But I think you might be my new hobby. Are you sure you still want to be my friend?”

“I’m following this road that we’re traveling down all the way to the end,” I tell her, hoping she understands exactly what I mean.

A shiver rushes over her and I realize how cold it is. It has to be in the forties. “We can go back inside.”

She leads the way, smelling so damn sweet. “That’s where the magic happens?”

“It’s where dreams turn into reality,” I counter with a wink.

Her cheeks heat and she hiccups again. “Hardy har har with the Mr. Dreamy references. I could’ve predicted your comforter was black. Let me guess, the sheets are red?”

I narrow my eyes at her, walking to the edge of the bed and turning them down. “How’d you know that?”

“Because I’ve been here before with you,” she whispers. “In a dream.”

I cross my arms over my chest as I try to find words. “And what happened?”

She shakes her head. “Let’s just say everyone was completely satisfied in the end.”

Fuck. When Autumn walks past me toward the door, I adjust myself, wishing she would stop looking at me like that. If she only knew she was in control of this entire situation, and where this goes between us. But considering we’re both broken in some sort of way, I’m not sure either of us are ready. Or maybe we could fill the cracks of our hearts with the sunshine the other brings.

There’s too much push and pull. When we take the stairs, my stomach growls. Autumn grabs onto the railing, but I hold my arm around her, steadying her. Once we’re in the kitchen, I open the freezer that was recently stocked full. “Hungry? Want some pizza?”

“God yes,” she says, as I grab a baking stone, turning on the oven. I grab the packages of pepperoni and cheese from the fridge and sprinkle it on top.

“I do the same. They never put enough on them,” she tells me, snagging a pepperoni.

“What type of books do you write?”

With a grin, she sprinkles shreds of cheese into her mouth. “I don’t.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Romance, but lately my specialty has been haikus. All love themed. Julie tricked me into doing it, and it’s gotten easier, but she’s also been pushing me to write about Mr. Dreamy.”

My brows rise. “Now, that’s a book I want to read.”

“Pfft,” she says.

“What if I paid you to write it?” I ask.

Her lips part. “You’re not serious.”

I laugh. “I’m dead fucking serious. Think of it as an advance. That’s all a publisher would give you, right?”

“Plus royalties and distribution.”

“What’s your ridiculous dream price?” When the oven is preheated, I put the pizza inside.

She refuses to answer.

“Which piece of clothing are you removing?” My eyes slide over her, knowing she left her bra and panties on the floor of my closet. I saw them on her tiny pile of clothes.

She narrows her eyes. “You play so fucking dirty!”

“It’s a house advantage,” I state, leaning against the counter.

Autumn stands, twirling the hem of the T-shirt in her fingers and barely lifting it, showing her flat stomach. I wait, not taking my eyes from her until she pushes the material down.

“I don’t know if I can put a number on it because I don’t think I can deliver.”

“Ten million,” I offer. “You realize that’s an author’s dream advance.”

She gasps.

“We can make it twenty?” I shrug, glancing at my nails. “I have more money than any person should. That’s nothing.”

“Zane.”

“What if I said fifty million? Could you imagine selling your first publication for that much money?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“I have one stipulation, though. I want every fucking detail of Mr. Dreamy.”

Her eyes are wide. “You’re serious .”

“I’ll put the funds in a trust for you this week. Oh, I’d also like it delivered in six months.”

“Don’t you think that’s strict?”

“Not for the price I’m paying. Actually, let’s make it before the new year. Up the ante a little.”

“Are you out of your mind? I have finished no projects since I graduated with my MFA a decade ago. You’re giving me fourteen weeks.”

“Exactly.”

She stares at me like I’ve grown a third head and then she scoffs. “You know what, I will take your offer.”

I hold out my hand and we shake on it. “Every. Detail.”

“It will make you blush,” she says. “And you’ll probably learn a thing or two.”

A roar of laughter escapes me. “I look forward to it, Pumpkin.”

When the word leaves my lips, she inhales and glances away from me.

“What other dreams do you have?”

“Well, I wanted to be married by thirty. No way you can make that happen, unless you have enough money to buy a time machine and we can go back three and a half years.”

“Ah, unfortunately no. But marriage by thirty isn’t a fail.”

“Considering who I would’ve married, I’d say you’re right,” she says.

“Now that would’ve been tragic.”

Autumn moves over to the pumpkins and carving tools. I grab a few dish towels and we dry off what we can, then I clean up the wet footprints we tracked into the house.

Afterward, we sit at the breakfast bar and continue with our conversation, returning to our pumpkins. We fall quiet as we work on our designs. It’s a comfortable silence, though.

“Phew. I think I’m done. I win because I finished first,” she says.

“Most women do.”

“Mmhm. Unless she fakes it.” Autumn snickers.

“Have you ever faked it?” I ask. “The truth.”

She lifts a brow. “More times than I’d like to admit.”

I chuckle. “I’m sorry for laughing.”

“You don't think a woman has ever faked it with you?” She scoffs.

“Never.”

“And how would you know?”

I lean in and lick my lips. “Let’s just say I love confirming.”

She chews on the inside of her cheek, holding back a smile.

The timer buzzes and Autumn gets up and removes the pizza since I’m still working on my pumpkin carving masterpiece. She sets it on the stovetop and I try not to watch her, but it’s hard when she’s right there.

“This looks incredible.” Then, she snags a pepperoni and the cheese stretches then snaps as she pops it in her mouth. “Hot, hot!”

Her mouth is wide open and she’s waving her hand in front of her face. She hops between her feet like it’ll help. A minute later, she swallows it down.

“Was it worth it?” I ask as I shake my head, finishing my carving. I move it back, making sure everything I cut out is straight.

“Yep.”

“You’re stubborn,” I say, glancing back at her.

“But you already knew that.” She reaches for another pepperoni.

I stand and grab the two battery-powered candles I got for our pumpkins then I walk over to her. I gently take her hand and set it in her palm. “We have a pumpkin reveal while it cools.”

“Okay.”

Her cheeks are pink and I realize how much I enjoy the tipsy version of her. Cute. Funny. Sexy. I study her face as she looks up at me.

“Did my eyes blink at two different times?” she asks.

I burst into laughter and my head falls back on my shoulder. “No, they didn’t.”

“Felt like it.” She glances back at the pizza, snagging another pepperoni and repeating the process of burning the shit out of her mouth. I watch her. “You know your eyes give you away.”

“Yeah?”

She nods. “They say they’re the window to the soul, ya know.”

“Shakespeare. Though, I have a feeling you’re more of a Poe fan,” I tell her.

“I enjoy them all for different reasons. I studied the classics but found their life stories more interesting than the fiction they wrote. Artists are wired differently, I think. My obsession with love is why I chose romance.”

My brows furrow. “You’re no longer obsessed with it?”

She shrugs as we stand in front of our pumpkins. “I think I need convincing after the relationships I’ve had. I can’t write the end because I don’t believe my characters will get a happily ever after.”

“Because you haven’t?”

I huff, but it's the truth. “Basically.”

Silence streams between us. “I’m happy you’ll be creating again soon.”

“It will not be easy for me.”

“Going back to something you almost gave up never is,” I tell her, knowing what it was like to be back on the snow after I thought I might never ski or snowboard again. For weeks, I wasn't sure if I'd even walk again. “But it's just like training a muscle. The more you work at it, the stronger you become. I believe in you.”

She meets my eyes. “You do?”

“Yes. I know you have brilliance up there. Just need some inspiration,” I say, brushing my hand across her hair, pushing it from her face.

She swallows hard and I create space between us before I lose control and cross that line. It’s something I won’t do, not when we’ve been drinking. That’s not fair to her and I already have too much respect for this woman.

I clear my throat, removing the top to my pumpkin and placing the light inside. “And I selfishly want to read your fantasies about me because it’s only something you can write. Can’t really put a price on that.”

She does the same.

“Okay, now close your eyes,” I say, moving to the switch and flicking off the lights. We’re in darkness other than the warm glow that’s leaking from our carved gourds. I move beside her.

“Are your eyes closed?” she asks as I steal another glance at her pretty face.

“They are now,” I tell her. “Now, on the count of three we’ll open our eyes.”

We count down together, then twist them around.

Autumn giggles when she sees my buck-toothed, different-sized-eyes pumpkin. Then I see our initials in hers with hearts surrounding them. The fake candles shine bright enough light for me to see her.

“Okay, you win.”

“Yes.” She looks up at me and I almost fall into her trance, but the timer sounds off.

“Food,” I say, lifting her chin, not daring to slide my lips across her again. But fuck, I want to.

I step back. “Pizza time.”

I cut slices and put them on plates, then we carry them to the living room, leaving our pumpkins to cast their shadows in the kitchen.

“There is a remote on the table at the end,” I tell her.

She snatches it up and clicks on the ultra large TV that takes up a huge portion of the wall above the mantle.

“Pick something,” I tell her, taking a bite.

“Oh, what about this?” She stops on one of the Friday the 13th movies.

“Works for me.” We’re close enough that our legs touch, but she doesn’t move away from me.

“Jason is the hottest,” she mutters between bites. “Classic slashers are my thing.”

“Really? I’d have guessed you’re more of a Hallmark fall festival lover.”

“Pfft. No. Freddie. Jason. Chuckie. Every September and October, I have a list of horror films I can’t go a season without seeing. It’s one of my secret obsessions and has been since I was a young teenager. Some girls cancel plans because they have to wash their hair. I have cult classics to watch.”

She makes me smile. “Which is your favorite?”

“That’s like forcing a parent to choose their favorite kid,” she explains.

“You love horror and write romance. You’re sunshine and darkness all rolled into one,” I say.

“A good way to describe me.”

The first scene opens with two men walking through a cemetery, carrying lanterns as violins screech.

“The music makes it creepier,” she says, covering her mouth as she speaks.

Jason’s grave is shown and the two guys dig as lightning flashes in the background. Thunder crashes in the distance on the television and in real life. The suspense builds as the guy asks his friend for a crowbar, and just as he lifts the casket lid, Autumn screams at the top of her lungs and grabs at my waist.

“Fuck!” I drop my slice of pizza and it smacks onto the floor, cheese side down, as she loses her shit with laughter.

“Aww, I’m sorry!” She chuckles. “I’ll clean it up.”

My heart races. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Are you ticklish?” She grabs my waist again and I wiggle away.

“Don’t tell a soul,” I warn, squirming, laughing, but also avoiding her hands.

Her face softens. “You were into it. I appreciate that.”

“I’ll get you back,” I tell her, just as lightning reanimates Jason. “When you least expect it.”

“Can’t wait. I enjoy the thrill. Love to feel my heart pumping. Reminds me I’m alive,” she admits, placing her fingers on the pulse in my neck. I lean over, stealing a bite of her pizza. I notice a bit of marinara on the corner of her mouth and stop to wipe my thumb across it, then lick it off my finger as she watches.

“Mm.”

She moves closer to me and the mood in the room shifts. It grows intense as she meets my eyes.

“I want you,” she whispers.

“We’ve had too much to drink,” I say, studying her perfect, parted lips that beg for me.

Her eyes flutter closed and she waits. “Don’t you want me?”

“It’s the tequila talking, I promise.”

“Answer the question or remove a piece of clothing,” she states.

Autumn is beautiful, with long dark lashes and high cheekbones. Her tongue darts out and I want to capture it.

“Pumpkin.” I place my thumb on her chin and lift her face, giving myself a better view of this gorgeous woman. I close my eyes, our mouths only inches apart, and contemplate crossing the imaginary line I’ve drawn as electricity soars.

I want to. Fuck.

We wouldn’t stop, though, but it's hard to ignore the magic swirling between us, pulling us closer.

The attraction streams between us, and at this point of the night, if a line was crossed, we’d fully lose control.

If we’re going to be together, it needs to be without lost inhibitions. Without excuses. Without the worry of consent. No regrets afterward.

Somehow, I fight the magnetic force that yanks me toward her.

She’s hypnotic, and I almost fall under her spell. It’s a recipe for either disaster or heartbreak. Maybe both. One of us has to be logical, and right now, I hate that it’s me.

“I’m really sorry.” My voice drops an entire octave as I move to her ear and breathe her in. “It’s not rejection, it’s respect. I promise.” I run my fingers through her soft dark waves and gently tug. “I’m sorry,” I say again before I stand, remove my shirt and toss it in the oversized chair.

I walk to the kitchen with my cock so rock hard that it aches. I give myself a minute, trying to calm down, knowing I could be a man-whore monster. Without a doubt, I could fuck Autumn right there on the couch and pretend like nothing happened the next day. My ex predicted I would sleep with tons of women after our breakup, almost as if she wished for it so she’d feel validated for cheating on me with my best friend.

After I adjust the monster in my pants, I grab several napkins and clean up the pizza smashed on the floor. I throw it away, then return, putting some space between us.

We speak in unison.

“Go ahead,” I say.

“You first,” she says.

“If I didn’t care about you, I’d fuck you right now.”

She laughs. “It’s fine. I’m used to rejection.”

“You’re not fling material. You’re the type of woman that men want forever with.”

“Even you?”

“Even me.” I’m not afraid to admit it. She deserves that at least.

Autumn looks away from me.

“And if we ever cross that line, it won’t be when we’re drunk.” I grab her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Understand?”

She nods. “If you’re one of those guys whose dick doesn’t work when you drink, I get it.”

I scoff. “I’d fucking break you.”

“Hm. Guess we’ll never know.” Her gaze slides down to my bulging cock.

I give her a smirk, catching her as she gulps.

“Actually, I retract that statement,” she says.

“Oh, I know.” I move my attention back to the food and movie. My mind isn’t on anything other than Autumn as she steals glances at me. I’m glad I’m seated because that sexy-as-fuck expression on her face makes me weak in the knees.

When we’re finished eating, I grab our dishes and put them in the sink.

I return to the couch, sitting close, and she leans her head against me. I lift my arm, allowing her to rest on me, and we lean back together, watching TV. Halfway through, my eyes grow heavy, and I’m relaxed with Autumn in my arms.

I don’t know how much time passes, but next thing I know, she's waking me.

“Zane,” she whispers. “I think we fell asleep.”

I grin, tucking loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “You’re comfortable.”

“You are,” she says, yawning, but neither of us move.

“Shall I call you a ride?” I ask, glancing at the clock. It’s just past midnight. “Unfortunately, I’m not in the position to drive you home.”

“Let me text Huber.” She holds out her arms to balance, then laughs as she walks to the kitchen.

A few minutes pass and she returns to me on the couch. “He’s not doing rideshare because of the rain. Apparently, the conditions are unsafe.”

I meet her eyes. “I guess we’re having a sleepover.”

She immediately smiles.

“You can have my bed,” I offer.

“And where will you sleep?”

I pat the cushion next to me. “Right here.”