I picked her up and carried her around the island to set her on one of the stools in front of it. “Then you can tell me what to do. But I want you sitting. Resting. Not on your feet when you don’t have to be.”
Honestly, I’d be happier if Vienna found a different job instead of going back to The Laughing Goat nextweek. Not that I have a problem with her working in a restaurant, but I’m not crazy about her having to stand for so long. I’d prefer to see her working behind a desk, where she can give her leg plenty of time to heal.
Okay, fine. Maybe I’m notcrazyabout her working in a restaurant, where she’ll be dealing with dozens of people every day—any of whom might get ideas about hurting her. Rationally, I know it’s highly unlikely with Frieda in jail and her boyfriend, Tom, recently cleared of any wrongdoing. Still. I worry.
But Vienna says she likes working in food service. She likes how busy it is, and the easy camaraderie of the employees. She’s hoping to start waiting tables during lunch soon, where she can earn tips and meet more of the locals.
“Plus,” she explained when I brought up the idea of an office job, “the schedule is more flexible in a restaurant. So when I have the money to finish my paramedic training, I’ll be able to work around my classes.”
I’ve toyed with offering to pay for her classes so she can start them next semester. I’ve got the money, after all. And I hate the idea of Vienna putting her dreams on hold any longer than she already has.
But I haven’t. I won’t. Not yet, at least. Not when we’ve only been dating for two weeks, and I’m not entirely sure Vienna’s even going to stay in Bliss.
No, she hasn’t said anything about leaving. But she hasn’t mentioned staying long-term, either. And shit, Ireallywant her to.
The doorknob pulls out of my hand as the dooropens, revealing an amused Vienna on the other side of it. “Did you forget the code?” she asks with a smile. “Or are you just standing outside in the cold for the heck of it?”
Though I’ve never been one to get embarrassed about things, my cheeks warm. “I didn’t forget the code. I was just… thinking.”
She shivers as a gust of wind comes through the doorway. “Well, it might be more comfortable to think inside.”
“It would be,” I agree. “And it’s too cold for you to be standing here.” Ducking my head, I give her a quick kiss. Her lips are warm and soft and taste slightly of chocolate. Putting my hand on her shoulder, I gently steer Vienna inside and follow her in, then turn to lock the door behind me.
Once the last of the three locks slides home, I face Vienna again. She looks so damn pretty she actually takes my breath away for a second. Her hair falls in loose curls around her shoulders, the color shifting from gold to copper as the light hits it. She’s wearing a red V-neck sweater that dips just enough to give a tiny glimpse of her cleavage and clings to the swell of her breasts. There’s a bit of sparkle over her eyes, making them look extra green, and her lips are rosy pink and shiny.
“You look amazing,” I finally say. Then I kiss her again. “Just amazing.”
Vienna blushes. Glancing down at her sweater, she replies, “I thought about dressing up more. Since it’sValentine’s Day and all. But then I didn’t know if it would be weird to wear a dress, since we’re staying at home.”
My heart does this odd, flip-floppy thing. It likes hearing her call my househome.
“We could have gone out,” I tell her. “We still could, if you’d like. I’m sure Mariano’s could fit us in. I’m sure you don’t want to eat out where you work, but Blissful Brews is an option, as well. I’m pretty sure they’re doing some sort of Valentine’s Day special. Or I could make some calls, see what’s available in Stowe or Montpelier.”
My stomach jolts with nerves again. And with them, worry that I’ve messed the night up. When I first mentioned doing something for Valentine’s Day, I suggested a nice dinner, or even an overnight stay in Burlington. But Vienna said she wanted to stay in. She said she’d had enough excitement, and what she really wanted was a quiet evening alone with me.
It sounded good at the time. But what if that’s not what she reallywanted? I’ve heard some of my friends talk about how their womensaythey don’t want anything special when they really do. Maybe Vienna has been hoping I’ll surprise her with some grand gesture, like four dozen roses and a carriage ride through the snow before dinner at a fancy restaurant, and I totally blew it.
It feels strange, feeling so uncertain about this. I never doubted myself in the past when it came to women. I was confident in what I had to offer them—cocky, yes, but it’s the truth—and I never worried about doing the wrong thing.
But Vienna’s different. I’ve known it from the start, and with each day that passes, I’m more certain of it.
“Oh, no,” Vienna says. “Staying in is perfect.” She pauses. Her brow creases. “Unlessyouwant to go out?”
“Staying in works for me.” Remembering the flowers, I hold the bouquet out to her. “Your first gift of the night. I hope you like them.”
Her cheeks pink up with pleasure as she takes them from me. “I love them, Caleb. They’re gorgeous. And my favorite color.”
“I know.” Setting the gift bag I’ve been carrying down on the small table by the door, I shrug off my coat and hang it up. Then I grab the bag with one hand and take Vienna’s with the other. As I walk her over to the couch, I add, “I thought about three dozen. But the florist said that might be excessive.”
“Threedozen?” Her eyes widen. “I’ve never even gotten a dozen roses before. I don’t even know what I’d do with three.”
A spark of anger ignites. How is it that Vienna made it to twenty-eight without anyone buying her the roses she deserves? How have all the men in her life been so oblivious? So blind to the incredible woman in front of them?
“I’ll buy you flowers whenever you want,” I tell her. “If you’d prefer something other than roses, let me know.”
She lowers her head to sniff the flowers, then looksback up at me. “You don’t have to do that, Caleb. Roses are expensive.”
Taking the bouquet from her, I set it on the coffee table, then lift her onto my lap. Holding her gaze, I ask, “What did I say about doing things for you?”
