7. Lucy

Chapter 7

Lucy

A fter rummaging through the dresser, I was fully clothed in fancy skiwear and sturdy winter boots, courtesy of his sister. I also owed Charlotte some tacos or whatever else she preferred since, judging by the amount of snow out here, I would probably end up wearing every stitch of clothing she kept here before we could go back home.

Snow blanketed the ground, dusting the porch steps and weighing down the branches of the evergreens. It was everywhere, covering everything in fat, fluffy piles.

The steam from the coffee mingled with the crisp morning air as I rocked in my chair, wrapped in a quilt, with one foot resting on the porch rail. I was right; I knew it would be peaceful out here as well as incredibly beautiful. No wonder this was Spencer’s favorite place.

We had come out here together, but he returned inside after we realized our phones still had no signals. He was trying to contact his dad with the radio. I almost didn’t care if he reached him or not. Now that I was safe and knew I would be fine, I felt selfishly happy to be here.

I hoped my mother was okay, but it was a relief not to have to answer a million questions about where I’d been, where I was, and what I was currently doing. I loved her, but sometimes, she drove me crazy. She respected my working hours, but beyond that, it was open season on my time, and I felt terrible that I felt this way. I was not good at setting boundaries when it came to her. She needed me.

The desire for a day or two of peace and quiet surprisingly outweighed my feelings of embarrassment for waking up on top of him. I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory, trying to forget how it felt to be pressed against his gorgeous, hard body, how it felt to have his big thigh between mine and my hand in his hair. I only wished I could remember how we ended up in that position. I’d bet money that sleepy Lucy had enjoyed herself.

The sound of the door opening and closing interrupted my quiet reverie. I turned to smile at Spencer expectantly, deliberately keeping my eyes trained on his face and no lower.

“I got through to my dad. Power is out in Honeybrook Hollow and all the villages north. Sweetbriar is fine. The storm knocked down a few trees and made a mess, just like I thought. The turn-off to the cabin and most of the surrounding roads are completely blocked, including the section of the highway that runs through Honeybrook Hollow. A few of the big pines went down. Crews are working on it now. But the road to this cabin is not a priority since it’s just us out here, and they know we’re okay. He’ll head out to your mom’s place, let her know what’s going on, and make sure she’s okay and has what she needs. We could hike out if you’d like, but the snow is deep.”

“Maybe we should stay here?”

“That’s what I think.”

“Between your dad and my grandparents, my mom will be fine. Don’t you think?”

“Yes, she’ll be fine, Lucy.”

Shamefully, my eyes lit up, and I smiled, giving myself away. “So I don’t have to worry about her then?”

Understanding eyes met mine. “No, he said he’ll check on her. You have nothing to worry about; he will also check on your grandparents and ask if your house has any damage.”

I owed his dad so many tacos now, too. When I get home, I might throw a Taco Tuesday thank you party to express my gratitude in one fell swoop.

“Thank you so much. What can I do to help? We need to gather more wood, right? Anything else?”

“Nothing except add finally buying a generator for this place to the to-do list. But that is a chore for another day.” He sat in the rocking chair next to mine, crossing an ankle over his knee as he settled in with his cup of coffee and the bag of Oreos.

“Right? I even have one at my place.”

“I do, too. Do you really live at the Honeybrook now?”

His sideways smile warmed me up. He was so handsome in the early morning sunshine. The bright light reflecting off the snow shone in his eyes, making them sparkle like sapphire lightning.

God, I was losing it so bad over him. I had to force myself to keep up my half of the conversation. Concentrating was going to be difficult when he looked this good. Maybe I shouldn’t look at him at all. Would that be rude? I decided against it because it would definitely be weird.

“Uh, yeah. I moved into one of the cabins a few years ago. It’s perfect: one bedroom, one bathroom, cozy, and not too far from civilization. I can order from the Inn’s restaurant if I don’t want to cook. They have everything now: a spa, a gift shop, even a little coffee hut near the road. You’d love it there. It’s secluded like this place.”

My grandparents had owned an inn called The Honeybrook for over forty years. It was busy year-round as Mt. Hood was one of the most popular destinations for skiers worldwide.

“I stop there for coffee way more than I want to admit.” His mouth slid into a smirk, and he held his mug toward me for a toast. “It’s almost as good as my coffee.”

That did it. I clinked my mug to his, vowing to spend all of my mornings at Mystic Mocha from now on. Then, I’d be sure to run into him more often.

“The coffee is amazing,” I agreed. “It rivals Violet’s Café in Sweetbriar, but I will never say that publicly, so don’t even try to quote me.” Violet’s coffee shop was widely regarded as the best coffee shop in the area.

“I won’t say a word.” He passed me an Oreo from the bag on his lap. “You forgot about these.”

“Gimme!” He chuckled as I eagerly reached for one. Our hands brushed as he placed it into my palm, and my entire body heated. Immediately, I looked away, dunking the cookie in my coffee to cover the fact that he was getting to me. “Yum. Best breakfast ever.”

“Agree. Nothing better.”

“Uh, what do we have in there for lunch?” I asked inanely.

“Mostly pantry stuff and frozen dinners. There’s no meat, or I would have dug out the grill.”

“In this weather?”

His sideways glance was adorable and don’t get me started on his grin.

“Nothing stops a Cassidy man from grilling, Lucy. Rain or shine.”

At this moment, it became clear. Forget about dying of exposure. This hopeless crush I had on him was going to do me in. I was in real danger of making a fool of myself over him.

“Are you a meat group foodie?” I teased. It felt good to flirt with him. He wasn’t constantly pushing for more than I was ready to give. It was as if he had an innate sense of how far to go. Or maybe he was just a gentleman or even an expert flirt.

“Yes. I like to cook. It’s relaxing. And I love to bake, too. I have a chocolate chip cookie recipe I’ve been perfecting. Those are my favorite.”

“I know about your cookies. I’ve tried one, and they’re amazing. You entered the harvest festival bake-off with those cookies and won last year. It was quite scandalous around The Honeybrook.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe I beat your grandma.” His lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “My father was mortified.”

“Ehh, she got over it. Especially since she kept her streak going in every other category.” My grandma had won every ribbon in every Honeybrook Hollow bake-off competition since before I was born.

The day he beat her was another day of many when I had regretted not talking to him.

“So she’s not pissed at me?”

“Nope, “You can’t win ‘em all,” she said. She thought it was hilarious that everyone was tiptoeing around her like she would be upset.”

“So, then, if I picked you up for a date, she won’t run me off the property?” There was an invitation in the depths of his eyes. One I was determined to finally take.

I sighed, delighted at the turn in our conversation. “No. You’ll be safe. Are you asking?” My eyes hovered on his, relieved when a look of flirty indulgence crossed his face, and he smiled at me.

Not to be dramatic, but I was starting to believe if I didn’t get to see his smile at least once a day, I would die of withdrawal.

“You asked me first last night, remember? For tacos.” He teased, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to face me fully.

“You’re right.” I inhaled slowly trying to be cool and not throw myself at him. “That I did.”

“But I have to say, I wish I had been the one to ask first; it should have been me. I wanted to so many times over the years. I’ve actually thought about asking you out for a long time.”

My mind whirled as I replayed every interaction we’d ever had. So many missed opportunities.

I sat there blinking. Blinking and thinking. Pondering and perplexed.

I needed words, and I needed to respond, but my mind was currently shorting out because he had blown it.

What if I’d been more open?

Flirtier?

More freaking self-confident?

“I take it back.” Realizing this was my time to make up for every lost chance I had to go out with him, I followed my heart and blurted, “It never happened. I never asked you out. Not a hint, not a peep, not a word. Tacos what? Tacos, who?”

Featherlike smile lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “God, you’re cute. You know what? I almost asked you to senior prom. I wish I had. Maybe things would be different now—I don’t know. I haven’t had the best luck with relationships.”

I may have just died. My heart had literally seized in my chest.

The ghost of Lucy was now in charge of her body, and she was confused as hell.

I mean, what the heck?

I could have been living in an alternate reality right now. One where I could have avoided years of bad dates with dumbass losers.

And Spencer? He thought that I could have made a difference in his dating life?

What the in the everloving dreamstate fresh hell was going on right now?

Was this cabin the portal to hot guy Narnia? Was I stuck in the sexiest hallucination ever? Was I about to have a dream come true?

“Why didn’t you?” I squeaked out, trying to wrap my head around the beautiful, amazing, mind-boggling words that were coming out of his mouth.

“My dad told me not to. Your mom wouldn’t let you date. Isn’t that right?”

“Ugh, yes.” I threw myself back in my chair, flinching when it hit the wall behind me. I felt myself shrink, like the girl who was always stuck at home. My mother was always too afraid I would get hurt or be peer pressured into doing something bad, like get pregnant or do drugs. Because of this fear, I could never do anything with my friends. Damn it. "No, my mom wouldn't let me date until I turned eighteen, and I'm so thrilled you know about that," I muttered.

“I’m sorry, Lucy—I never told anyone, I swear. He didn’t want me to get you into trouble or cause a fight with her.”

My freaking mother. Damn it. She only had herself to blame for her lack of grandchildren, forcing me to date idiots when, for all these years, I could have had Spencer. She was going to hear about this when I got home. For the love of?—

Enough.

Getting lost in what could have been was stupid when what was happening right now was way more important.

Focus.

“I saw you there,” I told him, for lack of a better segue into another topic. “At prom, I mean.”

“I went with my friends. I couldn’t bring myself to ask anyone else.” His voice broke with huskiness. Did he have any idea how sexy he sounded? “I didn’t want to. I was too disappointed that I couldn’t go with you.”

Holy crap. Holy freaking crap, crap, crap.

Forget my Man Ban. I was now on the Get Spencer Cassidy Plan with a side quest to find a rhyming name to call it.

This was happening.

“So did I,” I stammered as tingles of awareness shot through my body. “I went with my friends too, I mean.”

“I should have asked you to dance.” His expression stilled and grew serious as our eyes locked on each other.

“I would have said yes,” I murmured. Touched beyond words that he was sharing this with me. “I would have loved to have danced with you.”

“You’ve been frustrating me for years, Lucy.”

“Me?” My eyebrows shot up in shock.

“Yeah, you.” He laughed lightly. “You drew me that picture after my mom died. Do you remember that? You’ve been in my heart ever since.”

“Oh, Spencer. Oh my god.” I closed my eyes, letting the memory of that time in our childhood wash over me as I settled into the change this conversation was heading into.

“Is that too much?”

“No. I love it. I’m so glad you told me. I—I didn’t know what to do. You were so sad, and I wanted to help you somehow. It was all I could think of. Drawing is what I always do when I have too many feelings and can’t figure them out.”

“You drew her,” his whispered voice grew hesitant. Gone was the self-confident flirting of only a few seconds ago. “It was more her than any of our photographs in my house. I still have it.”

My heart melted, turning over in my chest. I was thrilled because I already knew I wanted it all. Every emotion, every feeling, I wanted all the pieces of him.

Tears filled my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“I loved her, Spencer. She was my favorite teacher—ever. I’ll never forget her.”

His mom had taught first grade, and I was one of her students. It was the only year Spencer and I weren’t in the same classroom. She was diagnosed with cancer near the end of the school year and passed away over the summer break. It shook our small community; everyone loved her. She was one of those people who spread sunshine wherever she went.

“I’ll be her age soon, and it gets to me sometimes. I don’t know why she crossed my mind right now.” He let out a rueful sigh and my heart broke for him.

“I’m so sorry. Why does life have to be so unfair? She was a wonderful woman, and you deserved more time with her. You all did.”

He looked away, frustrated. “I ruined the mood. We were talking about dating and prom and fun things and?—”

I gaped at him, shocked. “You did no such thing. I’m sick of moods . I just want to be real for a change. What you said was real. It was honest. It was how you felt in the moment and I’m honored you told me. I loved it.”

“What do you mean? Real?”

“I’m tired of small talk, aren’t you?”

His brows flickered a little as he nodded. “Yeah. Everything is always a game, it seems.”

“Good. I’m sick of dating apps and meetings in bars. I’m sick of playing games too. I’m also tired of seeing where things go while he’s talking to five other women. If I see the letters WYD in a text one more goddamn time, I’ll lose my mind. And I’ll probably drop dead or end up in prison for murder if I get one more dick pick. I’m over it all.”

“Tell me what you want.” A look of determination settled on his face as he waited for my response.

“I want honesty. I do not want to be a hookup or a booty call ever again. I want to watch TV in bed on a Saturday night after going to dinner or for a walk in the park or whatever. I want good morning texts that lead to goodnight kisses. I don’t want friends with benefits. I want friends with possibilities and intentions and real, honest-to-god feelings. I want—I think I want the impossible, and that’s why I’m done with men and dating and putting myself out there. No more. I’m honored you told me how you feel about your mom because it made me feel something. Thank you for sharing that with me because it was real.”

“You’re welcome.” He looked as if he were in shock.

I’d blown it. Obviously.

Ranting Lucy was really good at chasing men away. Only this time, there was nowhere for this one to go.