Chapter 17

Hannah

Some people—like Evie—watch hockey obsessively and catalog statistics and performance feedback in a spreadsheet which they then forward to a certain hockey player they know.

Other people—like Beth—like taking photos of books they've stacked in a variety of interesting and pretty ways and showcasing them on social media.

Arranging flowers has always been my thing.

One of my earliest memories is of sitting in this very flower shop, watching Mom as she meticulously plucked and sorted and arranged beautiful bouquet after beautiful bouquet. She'd hum to herself, and I remember such a feeling of peace. It seemed like magic to me as a little girl, watching as she took separate stems of flowers and brought them together to create something so pretty and colorful.

The door opens, and I smile when I see who it is. "Culver, what are you doing here?"

"Thought you might like some company on the walk home."

He comes over to me, and I notice a slight stiffness in the way he's moving. "Are you okay? How's the hip?"

"A bit sore." He leans over the counter and gives me a kiss before admiring what I've been working on. "These look great."

"Thank you," I reply, but I won't let him distract me with a compliment. "Can I do anything?"

"I'm fine, thanks. A walk will do me good."

"Cool. Give me five minutes?"

"No problem."

I finish off the bouquet I was working on and then wipe down the counter. I've already swept the floors, so I quickly lock up the cash register, turn off all floral coolers and lighting, and flick the Open sign to Closed.

Since he said walking is good for his hip, I don't turn right to go home but instead go left toward the town center and the gazebo. We can do a few laps of the square until he's had enough.

"How was your day?" I ask.

"Good. I drove up to see Brock."

"Oh, nice. How's he doing? He was his usual quiet self at dinner the other night."

"He was his usual quiet self with me, too. But it was good. I got to check in on him and make sure he's okay."

"And is he?"

"I think so. He's renovating his cabin, and he's planted some veggies in the backyard, so he's keeping busy, which is good. There is one thing he isn't pleased about."

"Has it got anything to do with the fact that he has to get married?"

Culver grins. "Bingo."

"Does he have anyone in mind?"

"No. But he does have a lot more time than I did, so I'm sure he'll figure something out."

"I'm sure he will."

We cross the street.

"Any word from the twins?"

"I texted them this morning and gave them a little talking-to."

"Why? What have they done?"

"It's what they haven't done. The messages and photos have dried up."

"Right. Well, you know…they're young."

"Yeah, I know." I sigh deeply. "They're growing up and having lives. Unlike some people."

"You have a life."

"I guess." But that's mainly because Culver is here. What am I going to do once the season starts and he leaves? Up until now, I haven't wanted to think that far ahead. We round the corner. "But the end of summer is getting closer."

"Speaking of…" He slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. "How are we doing with the hot girl summer list? Hmm."

"What's that hmm about?"

"Looks like there are only two things left to do," he says, tucking the phone away.

"One is getting drunk, which I plan to do at Fraser's party." I say.

The invitations for a historical romance-themed party arrived in my inbox yesterday.

"And the other is…" He stops talking.

We stop walking.

"Have sex," I finish right as Mr. Lewis walks past us. "Have six eggs on your omelet," I say, extra loudly to help lower those raised eyebrows of his.

We need privacy for this conversation, otherwise I'll wake up tomorrow with half of Comfort Bay knowing my most intimate business. The gazebo is empty.

"Come on." I tug on Culver's hand and walk over to it. "There. No one can overhear us now."

"True. I'll keep an eye on the western and southern fronts, you take the east and north."

I giggle and move in toward Culver on the bench.

His hand brushes my elbow before wrapping around my lower back. "I know we're in the middle of a conversation," he murmurs.

"And in the middle of town."

"That, too. But…are hot girl summer rules still in effect?"

"They sure are."

"Are you okay if I kiss you knowing full well there's at least someone watching who will spread word of this all over town?"

Only a moment ago, I was concerned about people overhearing our conversation, but my hot girl summer motto is If it feels good, do it, and kissing Culver feels good, so consequences—and nosy town gossips—be damned.

"More than okay." I hook my arms over his shoulders and smile, staring into his eyes. "My give a damns are currently on vacation," I say, paraphrasing one of my favorite Sabrina Carpenter songs.

His eyes come alive. "Good."

He lowers down and brings his lips to mine. My eyes flutter to a close, and I'm enveloped by the same feeling I get every time we kiss. We may not have put a label on what we are, but that doesn't change the fact that this feels so right.

I'm aware that Culver's feelings about me are newer than mine.

I'm guessing that's why he prefaced his I love you with an I think.

I understand that.

And I don't mind.

He was braver than me to share his feelings in the first place. I've been in love with him for years and have never said a word.

But he did.

He took a massive risk and opened his heart to me.

Prefacing it with I think might have been a way for him to have an out. If I'd, hypothetically, said I didn't love him back, he'd have been able to play it off as his mind playing tricks on him, and we could have gone on and pretend like it never happened.

Because I don't doubt his feelings for me.

Not at all.

I may not have a lot of experience when it comes to dating, but I'm not a needy girl. I trust Culver with my life, and I know that what we have is real and grounded in the most solid of foundations—true friendship.

I'm more than happy to give him the time he needs to figure things out in the same way he's given me the space I've needed when it comes to the losing my virginity thing.

The kiss deepens, both of us forgetting where we are and who could be watching us. He's holding me in place with his firm, steady hand, and as his tongue explores my mouth, something deep in my core ignites.

"I'm ready, Culver," I whisper against his lips.

He pulls back, his just-kissed lips red and a little swollen. "Ready?"

I nod.

"Ready for wha—? Ohhhh." He licks his lips. "Right here? In the gazebo? With Mrs. Franklin pretending to be reading the newspaper when her head keeps turning this way so often, we run the risk of her suing us for whiplash?"

"No, not here." I giggle. "You're determined to get us arrested for indecency, aren't you?"

"No. I'm really not." His eyes meet mine. "Let's go home."

So we walk home.

Fast.

So fast our brisk pace catches the attention of a few onlookers, and I find myself explaining on two occasions that Culver and I are just power walking and everything is okay.

We finally reach my place, and as soon as we're inside, I lock the front door behind us, keeping the outside world away.

It's just me and Culver now.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asks, gazing into my eyes as his thick fingers stoke the side of my face.

"I am," I reply, butterflies dancing in my stomach.

Yes, I'm a little nervous because this is a big deal. But I'm safe with Culver, and I know in my heart of hearts, he's the man I want to do this with.

We start kissing again before slowly making our way to my bedroom.

I wake up the next morning wrapped in Culver's strong, protective arms. I think back to the last time I woke up like this, and wow, hasn't a lot changed since Fresno?

Haven't I changed a lot since then?

It's wild what a hot girl summer can do for a girl.

I've caught up on all the sleep I missed.

My house is immaculate, and every single item of clothing has been washed and ironed and folded away.

I've been treated to the yummiest of Italian food—so yummy that I don't even care I've gained five pounds.

I've experienced things I've been putting off, like volunteering at the hospital, or that I was afraid of, like swimming in the ocean, or that I've never seen, like the purple carpet.

And last night, I did something that I added as a spur of the moment thing without really thinking it through.

I lost my virginity.

And it was…it was…well, let's just say, that for all his cooking and cleaning and all-around awesomeness, nothing—nothing—can beat the Palladino Edge.

I feel like I'm floating on air. I'm on cloud nine, and I almost don't care whether I have morning breath.

Almost.

I manage to lift Culver's arm without waking him, grab the first thing I can find to wear off the floor, then tiptoe quietly into the bathroom.

I freshen up, brush my teeth, splash some water on my face, and tie my hair up.

When I look at my reflection, I have to do a double take.

I'm glowing.

Never in a million years did I think I'd lose my virginity with Culver, of all people. I'm so happy it was him.

I was starting to feel bad that I'd never had time for love, but now I see that maybe the universe was playing the long game so my first time would be with the man I love and not some starter boyfriend.

When I step back into the bedroom, Culver's stirring. The sheet has slipped down his body, and my eyes roam the landscape of his smooth, muscled torso, taking the scenic route, of course.

I glance over at the clock on my bedside table. It's five past seven, and we don't have to be at the festival until ten-thirty, so there's no need to rush.

He opens his eyes. "Morning."

I settle on the edge of the bed. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

"Like a log. You?"

"Same."

A grin spreads across his face. "I like you in my shirt."

I glance down at what I'm wearing. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

I hadn't picked it up intentionally—it was just the first thing I grabbed from the floor—but Culver definitely has a thing for me wearing his clothes. It's like it triggers something in him, something primal, maybe even a little possessive.

And I have to say…I like it.

He frowns.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"How come you're all the way over there?"

"Aww. Are you missing me already?"

He makes a grunting sound that makes it clear he does, so I slip under the sheets and scooch up until I'm tucked in tightly against his body.

"How was last night for you?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

I smile even though I'm facing away from him, and he can't see me. "Magical. And for you?"

"Magical times ten."

"Just ten?" I tease.

"You didn't let me finish. I was going to say ten…million."

"That's better."

He wraps his arms around me tighter and presses a series of kisses to the back of my neck. "Is it wrong that I never want to let you go?"

"No. That's perfectly acceptable."

"Good. 'Cause we're not leaving this bed today."

"Uh, what about the festival?"

"Is that today?" He groans. "Can we cancel?"

"And give Doyle the satisfaction? No way. But…"

"Yes?"

"We have a few hours before we need to be there."

"In that case…." He starts nibbling on my shoulder. "For the next few hours, you're mine."