THIRTY-FOUR ARABELLA

THIRTY-FOUR

Arabella

ROWAN TAKES me to the closest town to their house, and it’s the epitome of New England quaint. The trees have lost most of their leaves, thanks to the brisk weather, so the fall vibes have faded away which is fine since it’s Black Friday and everything is all Christmas, all the time from now until December 25 th .

The sidewalks are crowded with shoppers and it takes us a while to find a parking spot but finally we’re outside, approaching the shops that line the street downtown.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I try to keep up with Rowan’s long stride. Now that he’s gotten rid of the boot, I have to practically run to match his pace.

“There’s this coffee shop up ahead that has great breakfast sandwiches. And good coffee.”

“Ooh, perfect. I would love to drink something festive.” I rub my hands together, dropping them at my sides, and he does the craziest thing.

He grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers. And he keeps holding my hand as we make our way along the sidewalk. He even slows his steps so I don’t have to make two for his every one and I am smiling. Grinning really, over this moment that feels so profound. Rowan Lancaster is holding my hand.

I repeat, Rowan Reginald Lancaster is holding my hand.

We enter the packed coffee shop and wait in line. I take everything in, loving how cute it is inside. There’s a massive chalk-board hanging along the back wall with the menu and someone drew a massive wreath in the center of it, the ribbon entwined around the boughs saying, Season’s Greetings . I cling to Rowan’s arm and read the menu, tilting my head just enough that I’m sort of leaning it on his solid shoulder and I can feel him glancing down at me.

When I tilt my head back to smile up at him, he does another crazy thing.

He kisses me.

Right there in the middle of the crowded shop.

It’s brief, nothing scandalous at all, but I feel that quick brush of his lips on mine all the way down to my toes. If I had a decent voice, I would be singing. Belting at the top of my lungs because I’m so, so happy.

“What are you going to get?” he asks me, knocking me out of my dream-like state.

“I want a gingerbread latte. Or maybe a peppermint white chocolate mocha.” I lean into his shoulder again. “What are you going to get?”

“That breakfast sandwich I like, the one with bacon, and a vanilla latte. I don’t like the real sweet drinks.”

The coffee shop clears out a bit and by the time we’re ordering at the counter, I can hear the Christmas music playing gently in the background. Frank Sinatra is crooning “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!”

I feel like I’m in a movie. One of those sweet Hallmark Christmas movies or maybe a fun and sexy rom com on Netflix where the couple makes out a lot. Hallmark movies are sweet, but the couples rarely kiss until the movie is practically over.

I prefer a little more action in my holiday movies.

Once we’ve ordered, we find a tiny round table and settle in, our feet tangling together since we’re so close to each other. Row sheds his coat, letting it hang on the back of his chair, and I rest my elbow on the table, propping my chin on my curled fist while I stare at him. He checks his phone before shoving it into the front pocket of his hoodie and when his gaze meets mine, his brows draw together.

“Are you staring at me, Bells?”

“I’ve been staring at you since you showed me your car, Row.”

“I guess I won’t give you shit for it since it’s your birthday.”

“Aw, thank you. That means a lot.” I glance around the café before I return my attention to him. “I love it here.”

“You haven’t even tried it yet.”

“I don’t have to try the coffee to love it. It’s so cute inside. I feel like I’m on a Christmas movie set.”

“Do you hate having your birthday so close to Christmas?”

“I never really thought about it before.” And that’s because no one ever makes a big deal about my birthday, though I’m not going to say that out loud. I’m not in the mood to be a downer today.

“Hmm.” He leans back against his chair, crossing his arms, his biceps all bulky and big. My Row is muscular and strong, and I love it. Anytime he’s got his shirt off I want to lick him. And I have. Many times.

A wistful sigh leaves me. He arches his brow. I smirk.

“Should I ask you what you’re thinking about?”

“Probably not. It’s inappropriate.”

He chuckles. “Now you have to tell me.”

I slowly shake my head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Tell me now.”

“Rowan.”

“Arabella.”

I laugh and shake my head again. My cheeks are hot from embarrassment which doesn’t happen much when I’m with Rowan. “I was admiring your … arms.”

He glances down at them. “Yeah?”

“You have nice ones.”

“Thank you.”

“You have nice everything.”

“You do too.” His gaze rakes over me, setting my skin on fire.

“And once I started thinking about your nice arms, I thought of you shirtless and how I want to lick you every time you take your shirt off.” I press my lips together, enjoying the heat I see flare in his gaze.

“We didn’t really do much last night, huh.”

“I wasn’t in the mood.” I shrug one shoulder and decide to be truthful. “It was an emotional day for me.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“On top of the world, but a little worried about what your mother is planning.” At his frown, I forge on. “What if she has us doing too many activities and we’ll be tired at the end of the night?”

“I think you’ll want to stay awake for the present I’m going to give you later tonight after the party is over.” His suggestive tone is nearly my undoing. Forget tonight. Why not do it now instead?

“I might be exhausted from all the planned festivities.” I’m lying. I’ll never be too tired for him.

“Better keep drinking coffee all day then.” They call his name at the counter and he stands, pausing right beside me, his intense gaze locking on mine. “I’m going to keep you up all night, Bells.”

He leaves me a quivery mess to go grab our order, and I clutch my shaking hands together, resting them on top of the table. We’re going to have sex tonight and I’m excited. Nervous. I was shit at it before with Bentley, but I blame my partner. And well, I blame myself. We were young and awkward and had no idea what we were doing.

It’s not like that with Rowan. He makes me feel sexy. The way he looks at me, touches me, kisses me, it’s wonderful. Mind-blowing. We are compatible sexually and it’s never awkward or weird. Sometimes we’re a little overenthusiastic and can get carried away, but it’s always … fun.

Better than fun. It’s hot. Despite his admitted inexperience, he knows what he’s doing.

“Your face is red, Bells,” he drawls, setting my to-go coffee cup in front of me. The barista drew the outline of a Christmas tree on the side of my cup, even adding a star on top. I smile at it before I take a sip.

“This is delicious.” I take another sip of my gingerbread latte, setting it on the table in front of me while I watch Rowan unwrap his breakfast sandwich. “And you should never call a person out for blushing. It’s not polite.”

“I never claimed I was polite.” He takes a big bite, and my stomach growls despite the fact that I ate breakfast not that long ago. And when he catches me staring at his sandwich, he holds it out toward me. “Want a bite?”

“I couldn’t.” I shake my head. “I already ate.”

“And you’re looking at this sandwich like how you used to look at me in class.” He’s grinning and I tear off a piece of the wrapper that was around his sandwich, balling it up and throwing it at him. It nails him right on the chin.

Ha. Take that, Rowan.

“You make me sound like a secret stalker,” I accuse.

“You said it, not me. And there was nothing secret about your stalking.” He takes another bite of his sandwich, humming as he chews. “This is fucking delicious.”

My stomach growls again but the Christmas song “Happy Holiday” is playing so loudly Rowan can’t hear it. I take a sip of my coffee, hoping it’ll help subside my hunger.

The song ends and “Blue Christmas” comes on next.

“I love this song. It’s so sad.” I remain quiet, listening to it while Rowan eats his sandwich and I’m so preoccupied with the lyrics, swaying to the beat, I don’t notice at first that Rowan has set the remainder of his sandwich on the wrapper and pushed it toward me.

“I don’t like it when you say you’re sad,” he admits, gesturing at the sandwich with a flick of his chin. “You can have the rest.”

“I couldn’t. I don’t want to take it away from you.” I’m touched by his offer. “And I didn’t say I was sad. I said the song was sad.”

“Same diff for me,” he admits. “Taste it, Bells. You won’t regret it.”

I do as he says, taking a big bite of the breakfast sandwich, and oh my God, he was right. It’s delicious. I immediately take another bite, savoring the bacon and egg and cheese. The hint of potato. And is that hot sauce on it? “This is amazing,” I say once I’ve swallowed.

“Right?” He takes a sip from his coffee. “You want to check out the shops?”

“I guess.” I pause. “Is that what you want to do?”

“Mom said I needed to preoccupy you for the next few hours. We can come back to the house around two.”

I check my phone. “That’s three hours from now. What are we going to do until then?”

I don’t want to shop. The only reason I’d want to wander around is so I could keep holding Rowan’s hand and pretend we’re really together. We haven’t talked about the status of our relationship at all and I’m a little afraid to bring it up, especially now that I’m leaving.

“We could continue our drive,” he suggests.

“That sounds better than shopping,” I admit.

A lopsided smile appears on his face. “I’m shocked. Every girl I know wants to shop.”

Don’t get me wrong, I adore shopping. But wandering around for the next few hours and looking at cute trinkets in stores sounds like a waste of time. And we are running out of that.

“I’d rather be alone with you,” I murmur.

His gaze takes on a warm glow and I’m breathless. “Whatever the birthday girl wants, the birthday girl gets.”