Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

C hloe took a final look at her hair in the mirror Wednesday evening. Derek was going to be there in ten minutes, or five if his habit of arriving early was consistent. When he bothered to show up.

That wasn’t fair. He’d been really upset on Sunday. And she could tell that he was still unsettled on Monday when he’d brought her the flowers. She’d been happily surprised when he’d told her to go ahead and get the house, but could tell it wasn’t going to be easy for him. She looked forward to being there for him, to helping him work through whatever he needed to resolve.

Her phone vibrated on the counter and she hurried to pick it up in case it was Derek. But the screen showed her mother calling via Face Time.

Chloe stifled a groan and answered the call. She waited for the connection and then forced a bright smile. “Hi, Mom.”

Barbara English smiled, but the Botox kept her face from looking genuinely happy. “How are you, Chloe? You haven’t called in a few days and I’ve been worried.”

Was she supposed to check in every day? She hadn’t done that when she’d lived twenty minutes away. “I’m good, Mom, just busy. I found a new house to rent, so I’ve been getting that together.” She’d talked to her mom briefly over the weekend and had told her about the fire, but nothing else other than that she was staying with “friends.” Probably time to come clean about the job too. “Plus, I’m working.”

Mom looked surprised. “But I didn’t think you started until next month.”

Chloe braced herself for a lecture. “I’m waiting tables at a local pub. The teaching position is only part-time and I need to supplement my income.”

Mom’s face got bigger on the screen as she moved closer to her phone. “Chloe! You can’t be waiting tables! You have a degree from Carnegie Mellon!”

“Mom, listen, it’s a really nice place and I like it. The people I’m staying with? They own the pub.”

A disgruntled frown turned Mom’s lips down in one of her favorite expressions. “Well, I do not approve. You should come home. I’m sure Liberty would take you back.”

Liberty Media had been a great job after college, but Chloe couldn’t see herself going backward instead of forward. “Probably, but I don’t want to go back. Mom, I’m happy here. I met a guy and he’s great.”

“You just got there! You can’t possibly be dating.” She held the phone farther away. “Ed was here for dinner Sunday. He still misses you. If you came home for Christmas?—”

Chloe cut her off, sounding more stern than she probably ought, but she just couldn’t listen to her mother sing Ed’s praises. “Mom, I’m not coming home for Christmas, and I’m definitely not coming back to Ed.”

Mom sniffed. “He still loves you, dear.”

“I doubt that.” Chloe doubted he’d ever loved her at all, but instead of it making her angry, it just made her feel sad for him because she was pretty sure he had no idea what the emotion felt like. “But please give him my best. You know what? Tell him I have a new boyfriend. Maybe that will help him move on.”

“A boyfriend?” Mom’s voice climbed.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. “Mom, I have to go. That’s Derek. We have a dinner date.”

Mom exhaled, sounding defeated. “I was going to say you looked really nice. Is that a new blouse?”

“Yes, I had to buy new clothes because of the fire.”

“Right.” She frowned again. “I wish you’d let me send some money.”

“I’m fine, Mom, really. If I need help, I’ll let you know.” She’d let Dad know. He’d always been easier to talk to than Mom.

“At least let me send you some accessories. That blouse is screaming for a long gold necklace. You know, like that one with the little crystals I have?”

The doorbell sounded again. “Mom, I really have to go.”

“But when do I get to meet this Derek?” No time soon, thank goodness for distance.

“I’ll send a picture, okay?” Chloe didn’t know when that would be, but she made no promises about that.

“Okay. Have fun. Call soon!”

“Will do.” Chloe ended the call, grabbed her coat and purse, and dashed down the stairs.

When she opened the door, she was a bit breathless. “Hi.”

“You okay?” he asked, looking at her with a touch of concern.

“Yeah.” She shoved her phone into her purse and started to put her coat on. Derek grabbed the collar and helped her into it. Such a gentleman. “I was on the phone with my mom.”

“Ah. How is she?”

“Judgmental.” Chloe inwardly cringed. She hadn’t meant to say that, but why not? She didn’t want to hide anything from him. She turned and locked the door, then walked with him to his SUV, where he held open the passenger door.

He climbed into the driver’s side a moment later and started the engine. “What’s she judging you about?”

Chloe set her purse at her feet and gave him an exasperated glance tinged with humor, because if she didn’t laugh at the situation, frustration would reign. “Everything?”

Derek drove out of the courtyard and past the waterfall. “Ouch. That can’t be easy.”

“No. She hates that I’m waiting tables. Thinks it’s beneath me.”

“That’s silly.”

“Exactly. She doesn’t understand why I moved out here. I just had to get away from them. I love them, I do, but she’s so smothering. Nothing I do is ever quite good enough.” She glanced down at her chest. “I’m lacking a gold necklace, for instance.”

He threw her a confused glance. “What?”

“My outfit. It needs a gold necklace. But she said I look good anyway, apparently.”

“So you never quite measure up?”

Her lips pressed into a grim smile. “Not so much. But then neither do my siblings. One of us is always is in the doghouse for some reason or another. Although, I think it’s going to be my turn for quite a while since I left. Especially since I’m not coming home for Christmas.”

“I assume that’s a problem?”

Chloe leaned back against the leather headrest and sighed. “She really wants me to come home. She also wants me to get my old job back and make up with my ex.”

“Wow, she’s having a really hard time with your choices, isn’t she?”

“Always. My haircut. My car. My love life.”

“Uh oh.” He cast her a look of mock horror. “You didn’t tell her about me, did you?”

“Actually, I did. I said I’d send a picture.” A devilish thought struck her and she smiled. “Maybe I’ll send her a picture of George.”

Derek laughed loudly. “You should! That’d be epic. I mean, unless it would make her head explode.”

“It totally would.”

Derek was silent a moment before saying, “She sounds like a piece of work. Though I’m sure there are good things about her and the rest of your family, right?”

He sounded hopeful, and she realized how this must sound to him. She had a family, had left them, and didn’t seem to want to be around them. Whereas his parents had died. Yes, he had a family now, but it was a surrogate.

“There are very good things about them. They’re loyal. I know they care about me. My mom, for all her idiosyncrasies, throws a great party. She would’ve loved the Archers’ shindig the other night. And my dad is pretty sweet. He works a lot though, so it’s always been more Mom than Dad. I’m hoping he’s going to retire soon. He totally could, but he doesn’t.” She suddenly felt like maybe she’d been too harsh on them.

“Yeah, I wonder when Rob will retire,” Derek said, “but I just don’t see it. He seems to juggle work and family really well. I don’t think any of the Archer kids ever felt like he was absent.”

“That’s nice,” she said, melting into the delicious heat of the seat warmer. It was colder tonight than it had been—in the low thirties—clear and crisp.

“Don’t let your mom get to you,” Derek said, glancing at her. “It took a lot of strength and courage to strike out on your own and follow your dream. I really admire that.”

Warmth that had nothing to do with the seat warmer pooled in Chloe’s belly. If she hadn’t been already halfway in love with him, she was now.

She also sensed an underlying tone to his admiration. A little bit of envy perhaps? She didn’t ask because she thought it might be tied to his family—his blood family—somehow and didn’t want to push on that front. She planned to be patient. If her intuition was even half right, they’d have plenty of time to understand everything about each other. Maybe even a lifetime.

Derek pulled into town and turned up First Street. “We’re going to Georgia’s. Hope that’s okay.”

“That’s great. I’ve heard really good things about it.” It was regarded as the best of three—all really good—gourmet restaurants in town. Portlanders liked to come to wine country to eat, drink, and be merry, and Ribbon Ridgers were more than happy to oblige them with multiple offerings.

He parallel parked and rushed to open her door.

“Thanks,” she said, as she pulled on her new pair of bright purple gloves. They were a very soft knit and she loved their coziness.

She slung her purse over her shoulder and took his hand, glancing up at him to see his reaction. He looked at her with the ghost of a smile and squeezed her hand. She had to work to keep the bounce from her step.

They passed a Christmas tree stand manned by Boy Scouts. “Hey, you looking for a tree?” One of them, maybe fourteen years old, called.

“Not tonight,” Chloe answered, “but I’ll be in the market this weekend.” She hadn’t planned on getting a tree this year—she didn’t even have any decorations—but spending time at the Archer house had made her miss the spirit of the season. She was already feeling at home here. Putting a tree in her new house would claim it as hers and set a stake in the ground for her future in Ribbon Ridge.

She thought she felt Derek tense as she spoke to the Boy Scout. When they continued on their way to the restaurant, she asked, “Do you have a tree?”

“I do. But I have to tell you, no self-respecting Oregonian, even a transplant like me—and you—gets their tree from a lot. I’m happy to support the Boy Scouts; I pay them to recycle my tree after New Year’s, but we’re surrounded by Christmas tree farms. You have to cut your own tree down.”

She liked his passion on this subject. “That sounds hard. We always ordered our tree from the high-end home and garden store back in Pittsburgh.”

“You’re kidding?” They’d reached the restaurant, whose door faced the street. Derek opened it wide and guided her inside by grazing his palm against the small of her back. She loved it when he touched her there.

She shook her head. “Nope. That’s how it’s done back home. At least by our family. I don’t know how to cut down a tree. I think I need help.”

He shot her a sly glance as the hostess approached. “Are you asking me to cut down your tree?”

Chloe batted her eyelashes. “Pretty please?”

He laughed. “How can I refuse?” He directed his attention to the hostess and gave her his name.

She showed them to a cozy table next to a stone fireplace in the center of the small building. She set a large book—the wine list by the look of it—on the table along with two menus, which were just printed pieces of paper. The menu clearly changed every day. “Our special is herb-crusted salmon and we’re also featuring a truffle mousse. I’ll let David know you’re here.” Chloe liked how everyone called people by their first name. They did the same at The Arch and Vine.

“Is this a converted house?” Chloe asked, looking around at the exposed beams on the ceiling and the archway leading back to the kitchen.

“Yes,” Derek held her chair out for her as she sat. “I never realized it before, but all of the best restaurants in town are.”

“I like that. There’s a lot of repurposing around here, I’ve noticed. It goes well with the artistic spirit that drew me here.”

Derek sat down opposite her. “Some might just call us beer-loving hippies,” he said dryly as he unfolded his napkin over his lap.

Chloe brought the menu in front of her and glanced down at it. But she was more interested in her date than in food at the moment. “You said you were a transplant. Are you a beer-loving hippie by choice then?”

“Actually, I’m from Tacoma.” He leaned forward as if he were sharing a secret. “We’re beer-loving hippies up there too.”

She laughed. “I didn’t realize you were from that far away.”

“I’m mostly from here. I certainly feel like I’m from here.”

“You don’t remember Tacoma?” she asked tentatively, tiptoeing around the bigger subject: his father’s death.

He shrugged and focused on the menu, clearly uncomfortable. “It was just a long time ago, and I was young when we left—nine.” He was quiet a moment, then said, “I think I might get the salmon special. What about you? Oh, and we should get the goat cheese and onion tart appetizer. It’s fantastic.” He looked up and smiled at her briefly before returning his attention to the menu.

Though she was incredibly curious about his boyhood, she knew he was done talking about it. Not that he’d revealed much. “The filet looks good. I’ve been wanting a good steak.”

“Georgia makes a great filet—you should get it. And I’ll order some pinot,” he said, plucking up the wine list that was really more of a tome, given its size.

“Sounds fantastic.” She wanted to regain the fun they’d been having before the talk about his living in Tacoma. “I love that a single guy gets his own Christmas tree. Do you do that every year?”

“The weekend after Thanksgiving—not Thanksgiving weekend, that’s too early—plus I’m usually wine-tasting.” He grinned. “I drive up to a tree farm and cut down my tree.”

“By yourself?”

“Once, but usually one or more of the Archers comes with me. Rob and Emily have something like four or five trees in their house, though they get the main one at a special farm with very tall trees.”

She leaned forward, intent on him. “And your tree is all decorated?”

“Of course.”

“I’d love to see it.”

His gaze turned darker, seductive. “Is that a ploy to get to my loft?”

“If you think so,” she said, lifting her shoulder and giving him a coy look. “I was pretty successful in getting you to show me your old bedroom.”

“Ha!” He laughed. “So you were. If you behave yourself during dinner, I’ll consider it.”

She was enjoying this game, probably too much. She lowered her voice. “You really want me to behave?”

He set the wine list aside. His stare was positively smoldering. “Not particularly.”

Their server—David—showed up to take their order at that inopportune moment. Chloe sat back in her chair and watched Derek talk to him about wine. As she studied him—his eyes, his strong chin, his lush lips—her body heated.

After David left, Derek refocused his attention on her. “Where were we?”

“Shameless flirting.”

“Ah, yes. You behave and I’ll take you back to my loft to look at my . . .” he arched a brow, “Christmas tree.”

She fixed him with her most provocative stare. “I can’t wait.”

The drive to Derek’s loft took less than five minutes, not nearly long enough for the car to warm up inside. Derek parked in the garage beneath the building and helped Chloe out of the car. He led her to the elevator, which they took to the top floor—there were only three, the first of which housed a dentist’s office, a gift shop, and a wine-tasting room and the second of which contained apartments.

The elevator emptied into a wide hallway and there were four units, one in each corner. He guided her down the corridor to his door on the right and swiftly let her inside, where it was toasty warm. “Can I take your coat?” he offered, shrugging out of his and hanging it on a hook behind the door.

She pulled off her gloves and stuck them in her purse, which she set on a console table, then turned so he could help her out of her coat. She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Thanks.”

“The tree’s in there.” He pointed down the short, narrow entry hall to the main living space. She took a few steps, then threw him a backward glance that said she was very impressed.

“Your place is fantastic.” She moved into the kitchen/dining area and he followed her, his gaze lingering on her shapely legs encased in skinny jeans and incredibly sexy knee-high black boots. “I love your kitchen—all the latest stuff, I see. And very loft-y.” She smiled at him over her shoulder as she moved toward the living room.

Wide windows spanned the living room wall and in the middle of that wall stood his seven-foot tree, which still looked a bit small, given the twelve-foot ceilings.

She walked past the sectional to inspect the tree. “What’s with the wolves?”

“Emily gets each of her kids an animal ornament every year. Each kid has their own specific animal: cat, dog, bear, et cetera. When I went to live with them, she started giving me wolves.” They were the oldest things on the tree. Everything else had been purchased since he’d gotten his own place because he couldn’t bring himself to pull the ornaments from the attic of the house on Fifth Street.

“Why wolves?”

“Kyle and Liam started calling me the lone wolf at some point. After I’d become a regular fixture at their house—sometime in middle school, I think. They were a pack and I was the lone wolf.” But he’d never felt alone. Not until after his mom had died, and then there had seemed a small part of him that he just couldn’t share, couldn’t open up. And he supposed that made him a lone wolf after all.

“How wonderful to have that commemorated with these ornaments,” she said, moving around the tree. “And you’re a Seahawks fan, of course.”

He relaxed, grateful to talk about football. Or anything but what might or might not be hanging on his tree. “Of course.”

“You will have to accept my Steelers commitment.”

He exhaled loudly as if he were incredibly put out. “If I must.”

She flashed him a smile. “Your place is the quintessential bachelor pad. I didn’t realize you were a player.”

He couldn’t keep from laughing. “In Ribbon Ridge? The whole town would be on to me in no time. Besides, players have fish tanks, which I don’t have here, either.”

She turned to look at him. “What? Oh, the fish tank!” She giggled. “But you brought me here to see your tree—same difference.”

“Because you asked!” He laughed, then turned back toward the kitchen. “Do you want a glass of wine? A beer? Martini?”

“Martini, huh? This is definitely a bachelor loft.” She’d gone back to studying the tree. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

He went to the wine rack that served as the base of the sideboard in his dining room and grabbed a bottle of pinot. She’d liked the wine at dinner, and this was similar.

Before opening the bottle, he tapped his iPod in the dock on the sideboard and found an appropriate playlist. Florence and the Machine piped through the sound system as he opened the wine. He poured two glasses and joined her in the living room, where she stood beside his tree looking out at the view of Ribbon Ridge and the hills beyond.

She took the glass from him. “Thanks. This is quite a place. I can’t believe it’s here instead of some metropolitan location.”

“I like it. It feels like city living, but I’m still in the country. Or sort of the country anyway.”

She sipped her wine. “Best of both worlds.”

“Exactly,” he said, watching her from the corner of his eye. His lighting wasn’t at full blast so it cast a romantic glow over the space, bathing her in soft luminescence. She was wearing her hair down tonight, the blond strands grazing the top of her back and framing her face with perfect angles. Her profile was strong, pretty, her lashes standing out and making her look utterly feminine.

She pivoted toward him. “I like this wine even better than what we had at dinner.”

“Same winery and vineyard, this one’s just a year older. They’re from one of my favorite wineries. It’s only about fifteen minutes from here. I’ll take you tasting there, if you like.”

“There are a ton of wineries around here. Plus the Archers’ brewery. I’m surprised the valley isn’t full of alcoholics.”

“Well, there is a nationally-renowned rehab center over in Newberg near the hospital.”

She laughed out loud. “Seriously? That’s rich.”

He grinned at her. “Supply and demand, maybe?” Maybe it was the wine, but he was feeling more relaxed than he had since Saturday night. He was crazy about her, and he wanted this to work. He’d taken a huge step by agreeing to her living in the house. But right now, that seemed so unimportant. All that mattered was her, and the depth of the connection between them.

She nodded at the huge flat screen on the wall. “I see why you made the comment about the TV at the apartment—you’re an aficionado. That’s massive.”

“Sixty inches.” There was nothing better than a good action movie or a great football game from the comfort of your own couch. “I like being able to enjoy things at home. I guess I’m a bit of a homebody.”

“Really?” She sipped her wine and walked over behind the sectional to where a sliding glass door led out to a patio. His furniture out there was covered for the winter, but he still went out sometimes to enjoy the night air. “Nice deck.”

He walked up beside her. “I’d take you out there, but it’s so cold. I do have a heater,” he gestured to the tall propane column, “but we’d still have to bundle up. And probably snuggle.”

She turned and looked up at him. “Sounds good to me. Though, I’m guessing we can snuggle just the same in here.” Her gaze turned playfully suggestive and she circled the sectional. She sat, folding her leg up underneath her, and patted the cushion.

As if he needed encouragement. He set his wineglass on the coffee table and sat close to her. She held up her glass in silent question, and he took it from her and put it beside his.

He looked at her, drinking in her beautiful face and expectant gaze, and found her far more intoxicating than the wine. He leaned forward and kissed her, bracing his right hand on the back of the couch.

She arched up into him, meeting his mouth with hers and curling her hand around his neck. It was a soft kiss, sweet. Her thumb stroked against his jaw. He mentally scored a point for shaving again before their date.

He angled his head and deepened the kiss, moving closer. She pulled her other leg up onto the couch and briefly knelt. He caressed her hip with his left hand, kneading her, then moved it up beneath the hem of her blouse to stroke the warm flesh beneath. She shivered, but he felt her lips smile.

He pulled back a little. “Ticklish?”

“Right now, yes.” She looked into his eyes. “Don’t stop, though.”

He held her gaze. “Are you sure? I’m not . . . I don’t do casual sex.”

Her eyes were dark and provocative in the muted light. “Me neither.” She pulled his head down for a scorching kiss. Desire flooded his veins and he pressed her back against the couch cushions. She fell back and stretched her legs out to lie down. The couch was wide enough for him to lie on his side next to her. He splayed his hand over her side before inching it across her belly.

She suckled at his mouth and tongue, driving him wild, her body moving in all the right ways. He realized her blouse had buttons and brought his hand out from beneath it to undo the top few. He moved his mouth to her jaw and skimmed his tongue and lips across her heated flesh. She felt like silk and tasted like heaven.

She tipped her head back, lifting her chin and giving him her neck in an offering he was only too eager to take. He trailed blistering kisses along her skin all the way down to the top of her bra, an ivory thing with lace and gold stitching. It looked like candy—definitely good enough to eat. And it unclasped in the front.

Take it slow, remember? his mind screamed. But the rest of his body had a completely different idea. He unbuttoned her blouse entirely and spread it apart, exposing the plane of her stomach. He kissed the tops of her breasts, wanting so much more, but not wanting to rush her. Though, from the sound of her breathing punctuated with sexy little moans, he doubted that was possible. Still, he took his time cupping her through her bra before he flicked the gold clasp.

She gasped as he pushed the cups aside and slid his mouth down to the tip of one breast. Her hand tangled in his hair, holding him close.

He could feel her desire climbing by the rotation of her hips and the press of her hands against him. That she wanted him as much as he wanted her fueled his own lust. He moved to her other breast, his fingers taking over the nipple he’d just abandoned with gentle rolls and tugs. Her legs parted and she pressed up against his thigh nestled between hers. He pressed it up, seeking her hot center, giving her the pressure she seemed to crave. Her answering moan made him smile against her breast.

“Derek,” she said, sounding as breathless as he felt. “Stop.”

Dousing him with ice water wouldn’t have had the same horrible effect. He closed his eyes briefly as he withdrew his leg from between hers.

But she tightened her grip on him. “No.” She smiled, looking a little shy, which he found incredibly adorable. “I don’t want to stop. I just wondered where your bedroom was located. This isn’t your typical loft with everything in one room so . . .”

He couldn’t keep from grinning as relief poured through him.

“If that’s okay?” she asked tentatively.

“It’s more than okay.” He leaned down again and kissed her with heat and passion and whatever emotion was careening through him. Though he was loath to leave her, he forced himself up and offered her his hand.

She gave him a demure look that quickly became saucy as she took his hand. He led her to the bedroom, which was on the other side of a wall from the dining room. A half wall contained a pocket door so that he could close it off entirely, but that wasn’t necessary tonight.

She came around him and backed the last couple of feet toward his bed, a sleek platform-style. “I should tell you, I take shots and I’m clean. In fact, you’re my first partner besides Ed in five years. I’m comfortable if you don’t want to wear a condom.”

Wow. He suddenly wished he could claim such a record, but at least he wasn’t a manwhore. “I’m also clean, and you’re my first partner in nine months. Before that, it’s, uh, a bit checkered. But, like I said I’m not into casual sex, not even back in college.” Given the precautions she was taking, he opted to skip the condom. “If you’re good with commando, I am too.”

“Commando is perfect.” She tugged his sweater over his head and inched his tee up his stomach, each stroke of her fingertips igniting sparks of need. She exhaled against his flesh. “I knew you’d have great abs.”

He grinned, very happy now that he had put up with his once-weekly sessions with his trainer and all the workouts in between. “And I knew you’d have perfect breasts.” He glided his hands up her ribcage between the front edges of her blouse and cupped them again.

She closed her eyes and shrugged out of the top, letting it fall to the floor. The music changed to a sexy song by Maroon 5, perhaps prompting her to stand up on her toes and kiss him, her mouth hot and open. She dragged his tee up his chest, barely breaking the kiss to draw it over his head. And then her bare breasts were against his bare pecs, Adam Levine started singing about losing himself in some nameless girl, and Derek was lost himself.