He knocked on the door and tensed when he finally heard the sound of footsteps nearing and then the sound of the lock as it clicked open. Sage was now standing there, her eyes widening at the sight of him. Maybe he should have cleaned up first. That he hadn’t shaved for two days, or brushed his hair this morning, and probably looked slightly crazy—he’d gotten a ridiculously little amount of sleep—wouldn’t inspire confidence.
“Good morning,” he said, thinking maybe he should have stopped for doughnuts. She loved the cream-filled ones with glaze on top. Maybe he should turn around and go back for some. Maybe not. She wasn’t likely to open the door again if he just left without saying anything else.
It took her several seconds to respond, and all she could manage was, “Um, hi.”
“Are you going to invite me in?” Boldness seemed to work best. Before she could say yes or no, he pushed forward, giving her two choices: to get run over or step aside. She moved, her hand still on the doorknob as he made his way inside.
“What are you doing here, Spence? Studying for a future in door-to-door sales?” she asked as she finally shut the front door and wrapped her pink robe more tightly around her.
“I wanted to see you. I missed you.” He led her to the kitchen.
After another pause, she reached a height of eloquence, at least to judge by what they’d been saying to each other this morning. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Would love some.” That would give him at least fifteen minutes with her.
“You look tired. Did you have a hard case in Seattle?” She sounded more like herself as she poured their coffee and sat down with him at the table.
“Yes, father of three, only forty-two. Had a massive heart attack and needed an immediate bypass. I think he’ll make it, but he needs to either quit his job or hire some help. He’s obviously dealing with too much stress.”
“It’s just too bad when it takes a major surgery for someone to slow down,” she said with a shake of her head.
“Yeah, I see it all the time.” It was almost strange how polite they were being to each other, how they were both skating around what they really wanted to say. He’d pushed for her to be his wife—she’d said she needed time. Wasn’t four days plenty of time?
“You know you need to stop sending gifts, right? I love them, each one, but it’s too much, Spence. You weren’t even here, but you somehow managed to have another one delivered,” she said.
“You didn’t like the last one?”
“I loved it. That’s not the point. You don’t have to buy me. In fact, you can’t.”
“That was never my intention. Like I told you before, I enjoy getting you things. I enjoy the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about it. I don’t think you’ve been nearly spoiled enough and I plan on doing it for a very long time—the rest of my life, actually.”
There. He’d said it. She could either step up and face this with him, or run and hide. He was through hiding. He’d done it most of his life, always protecting his heart, worried about being rejected, abandoned. Well, that wouldn’t happen with her.
“It’s almost Christmas, Spence. I . . . I still don’t know what I think about all this. I want to be with you—I do. But, I just need time. I need for everything not to move so quickly.”
He didn’t know what to do. Should he let her retreat, build up walls that were unnecessary? Or should he push her, make her accept what they both knew to be true?
“We just need to be logical, to think about this,” she continued. “We don’t want to rush into anything, and we certainly don’t want our family members to be the ones pulling the strings. I’m not a puppet.”
“I have never thought you were a follower, Sage. Far from it,” he said, temper creeping into his voice.
Yes, he was angry—thoroughly pissed off, in fact. He’d been walking on eggshells in fear of offending her. But was she giving him the same consideration? Did she care that he’d laid his heart out there for her? No. Did that mean he was giving up? No. But it would certainly feel good to shout.
“Love isn’t logical, Sage. It isn’t something you can put in a box, take out when you want to play with it, and then put it back away when it frightens you. It’s imperfect, comes with fits of emotions, and makes your insides flip out. There’s no reason to it, and if it doesn’t scare the hell out of you, you aren’t feeling it strongly enough. Love is scary because when we love someone, we fear losing them. But without love, what’s the purpose of life? If we give ourselves over to love, we win—we always will win.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” she snapped, shooting up from the table. “Why would anyone want to feel an emotion that turns them inside out? I’m not afraid. I just like to make smart choices. That doesn’t make me a bad guy.”
“It’s not supposed to make sense!”
“Do you think bullying me will make me tell you what you want to hear?”
In less than a heartbeat, he moved to her, trapping her against the counter, pressing his body close. Without a word, he bent down, captured her lips, and drank in her flavor, groaning into her mouth when she opened for him, when her hands came up and gripped his hair.
Pulling back, he looked deep in her eyes. “Now tell me to go away. Tell me you don’t love me, never want to see me again,” he said before kissing her again.
“I . . . I . . . I can’t concentrate . . . can’t think,” she cried, her fingers gripping him tight.