The Fall (Colorado Coyotes #6)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Rowan

I forgot to pick my dirty underwear up from the bathroom floor before I left to pick Cam up.

Shit. If she comes home with me later, I’ll have to make sure I go in my bathroom before she does so I can stash them in the hamper. She won’t be able to miss the neon Guinness sign in my living room or the dogs playing poker picture in my kitchen, but I can’t have her thinking I’m a total slob.

Slowing to a stop at a red light, I tap my thumb on the steering wheel as I listen to an Eminem song. I’ve waited a long time for an entire evening alone with Cam, and I’m not screwing this up. Dom is pissed we’re going out, but so far it’s just silent glare pissed, not screaming in my face pissed. I’m the one who should be pissed over my best friend not thinking I’m good enough for someone he cares about.

When I get to Cam’s house, I park in the driveway and walk up to the door, balancing the gifts I brought. I use my elbow to ring the doorbell and she answers right away.

“Whoa,” I say in a low voice. “You look incredible.”

She laughs. “You’ve seen me in jeans and a sweatshirt lots of times, but thank you. I’m very intrigued about what you have planned for tonight.”

I told her our plans were a surprise and that she should wear casual, comfortable clothes. She did. But she still looks amazing in her fitted, faded jeans and lightweight gray sweatshirt. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and she has a bag in hand.

“For you,” I say, passing her a box holding a dozen long-stemmed roses.

She steps aside. “Sorry, I should have just let you in when you got here.”

I come into the house and she closes the door behind me. When she takes the box and peeks inside, her whole face lights up with a smile.

“Oh wow, Rowan. These are gorgeous. No one’s ever gotten me flowers before. Thank you.”

How has no one ever gotten her flowers before? I make a mental note to bring them before every date.

She takes the box into the kitchen and sets it on her kitchen table. “I won’t make you wait for me to arrange them in a vase. I’m sure that’ll take a bit.”

“Are the boys here?”

She shakes her head. “They’re staying the night with Tess and Dom.”

Hell yes. She’s prepared for this date to last until tomorrow morning, just like I am. Still, I was hoping to see Tate and Sam.

“These are for them.” I pass her two boxes.

I can almost swear her eyes are a little watery as she meets my gaze, surprised. “What’s this?”

“Remember when we all went to that bakery after we went zip-lining and out for lunch? They both loved the caramel apples they got, so I brought them some.”

I set the boxes on the table and when I look at her, she glances away, wiping the corner of one eye.

“Sorry, I just...that was really thoughtful. Thank you. They’ll be so happy.”

She won’t meet my eyes. I think because she’s self-conscious over being teary-eyed. I try to lighten the moment.

“I figured separate boxes would be best since I’ve seen them body slam each other when they have to share something.”

She nods and laughs. “It’s true. Especially sweets.”

I don’t want to look at my watch, but we have a dinner reservation, so I ask, “Are you ready?”

“I am. Please tell me there will be food on this date because I’m starving.”

“We’re going to two places tonight and they both have food. One of them even has Sweet Tarts.”

She gasps. “Are you serious? That’s my favorite candy.”

“I know. But you’ll take Lemonheads if Sweet Tarts aren’t available.”

She lowers her brows, smiling but confused. “How do you know that?”

“Movie nights at Dom and Tess’s. You’re also a blanket hog.”

“Bullshit,” she says lightly, grabbing a jacket from a hook next to the front door. “Don’t believe Tess and her bitching.”

“I’ve experienced it myself. There I was, trying not to get too close to this gorgeous woman I’m sharing a blanket with who doesn’t want to date me, and you gave me like six inches of blanket.”

“Hey, Halloween is a scary movie. I needed to burrow.”

We walk out the front door and she locks it behind us. She looks at me and smiles as we walk to my car, and I feel lighter. It’s been many years since I took a woman on an actual date like this before sleeping with her. I meet most of the women I date in bars and restaurants after games.

I like this with Cam. There’ll be some nervous energy tonight, but we already know each other. It feels familiar and exciting at the same time.

“So I’ve always wondered if there’s a story behind your car,” she says as I open the door to my 1977 Ford Bronco.

“Gladys? She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Absolutely. I love this car.”

She slides in and I step closer, taking in the sweet scent of her perfume.

“Let me help with that,” I say, reaching for her seat belt so I have an excuse to get closer to her.

“Oh, such service,” she says sweetly.

I want to grab her hips and turn her to face me, then make out with her for the next twenty minutes. But instead, I fasten her seat belt and place a single soft kiss on her temple.

“This car belonged to my dad,” I say. “It’s a classic—1977. He loved it. When he died thirteen years ago, it became mine. I’ve had it completely restored.”

Her expression softens. “I’m sorry about your dad. I love that you still drive his car.”

“It has lots of memories. All good.” I step back and close her door, then walk around to the driver’s side.

A few seconds into our drive, she asks a tentative question. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but was it sudden? Losing your dad?”

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and glance over at her. “You can ask me anything you want. It was sudden, yeah. He killed himself with a shotgun.”

“Oh God, Rowan.” She covers her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” I look ahead at the road. “I was sixteen at the time. And it...” I stop, not wanting to bring down the mood with my sad story. But it’s a big part of who I am, and I’ve waited a long time to have conversations with Cam that bring us closer. “It was almost a year after my mom died from ovarian cancer. My dad, he just...couldn’t face life without her anymore, you know?”

She’s quiet for a couple of seconds. “I feel like saying I’m sorry about all of that is...not enough.”

“It was tough, but I got through it. I lived with my hockey coach and his family while I finished high school. They were really good to me.”

“You’re so resilient. I’m sure they’d be very proud of you.”

Something inside me tightens instinctively as I push back thoughts of my parents. I rarely talk about them, and even all these years later, it still hurts when I do.

“That’s nice of you to say. Do you see much of your parents?”

“Not really. It’s just my dad. My mom passed away. And my dad is a lifelong Southside Chicago guy. He kind of has this old-fashioned view that once the kids fly the nest, that’s it. We talk on the phone every few months, but he’s not a get together for the holidays kind of guy. He spends Thanksgiving in his recliner with a beer in hand.”

“Does that bother you?”

She waves a hand. “It really doesn’t. Tess and I wanted a different life for our kids, and we made those lives. That’s enough for us. Even when we had no money, we’d spend Christmas Eve making construction paper art projects with the kids, watching movies and drinking hot chocolate. We want our kids to have those memories and to have homes to come home to with their own families someday.”

“You’re an incredible mom.”

It’s one of my favorite things about her. My mom fought cancer for a little over three years before she passed away, and I missed her when she was so sick she had to be in bed all the time. I missed the lunches she packed for me with home-baked cookies and the way she always wanted to hear about my days at school. I understand it now, but I didn’t then.

“Thank you. Raising kids is the most difficult and rewarding thing I’ve ever done.”

She tells me what it was like having twin infants for the rest of our drive, and it sounds like she hardly slept for the first few months. I can’t imagine taking care of one infant, let alone two. My admiration for her grows.

When I park at the Japanese fusion restaurant I made us a reservation at, she lets out a little squeal of happiness.

“You remembered how much I love sushi.”

“I called ahead and told them to make extra.”

She laughs lightly. “Wait...you didn’t, did you?”

I grin. “No.”

She feigns a thoughtful expression. “This place definitely doesn’t have Sweet Tarts. We’re going to the movies next, aren’t we?”

I put my hands up. “I can’t say. First we’re gonna do some damage to the sushi supply here.”

“I’m so in.”

We walk into the restaurant hand in hand, the light feeling still there. Cam is special. The closer we get, the more I like her.

One of the things I’ve always liked about her is that she actually eats. She doesn’t exist on vodka and water or pick at salads like other women I’ve taken out. We talk and laugh about the boys, Dom, Tess, Hannah and Zane as we eat. The meal seems to fly by.

“I want to finish it, but I can’t,” she says mournfully after putting away three and a half sushi rolls. “Do you want it?”

“Hell yeah.” I’ve already scarfed five rolls of my own and some soup, but I’ll finish hers, too.

“That was amazing, thank you,” she says as I’m signing the bill for our check. “I’m not sure I can eat more than a couple Sweet Tarts right now.”

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna work up an appetite.” I grin at her as I put my wallet away.

She arches her brows. “At the movies?”

“Who said we’re going to the movies?” I stand up from the table and offer her my hand.

She takes my hand, her smile giving me a high that reminds me of how it feels to score a goal in a game. The first part of this date couldn’t have gone better. I think the rest is going to be every bit as good, if not better.

Mostly because at the next place we’re going, I’ll have lots of excuses to touch her.