“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said.
I paused, turning my face into the oncoming storm. The rain was cool against my skin and the wind tugged at my clothes.
“I’m scared, too, Shea,” I said. “I’ve never…pictured a future with anyone else before. Just you. I know we’re both a nightmare when it comes to commitment. But I’m stubborn and you’re stubborn. And if we really want this, I fully believe we can find a way to make it happen.”
Shea said nothing for so long that I thought the call might have dropped off. The wind picked up speed, howling through a patch of nearby pine trees.
“Buy me a drink tonight,” she replied. “Make it something strong. Then we’ll talk.”
Chapter nine
Shea
The storm lasted until late in the afternoon, flooding the streets and taking down trees. Trooper pushed our date later, until after the rain had passed. A jumble of emotions twisted in my gut—excitement, anticipation, dread, the nagging feeling that this was a terrible idea and it would blow up in our faces.
Then the sun came out, and the world was freshly clean, smelling sweet, glistening. And Trooper pulled up to the curb.
That knot of anxiety melted away. Because he was still here. After years of friendship, Trooper continued to show up for me, to be there when I needed him the most. I didn’t ask where he was taking me when I climbed on his bike, and I didn’t care. Huddled against his back, I would have been happy to ride in circles for hours with no destination in mind.
A few minutes later, Trooper turned into his driveway and parked.
“Didn’t you say we were going out to dinner?” I asked.
“I decided to impress you with my cooking skills instead,” he replied, helping me dismount from his bike.
“Oh, that’s terrifying. Should I have the fire department on speed dial? Or an emergency medical team on standby in case I get food poisoning?”
Trooper rolled his eyes as he took my hand, leading me inside.
“Ha, ha, very funny. Make me the butt of your jokes all you like. You’ve never tasted my cooking before.”
“I didn’t even know you could cook in the first place,” I pointed out.
Trooper shrugged.
“That’s because I don’t like doing it for myself. But it’s different when I have company. Everything just tastes better when you have someone to share it with.”
After leaving our boots by the mat at the front door, I followed him into the kitchen. For a long time, I thought Trooper would have a typical pig sty for a bachelor pad. A pile of unwashed dishes in the sink. Overflowing garbage. And a bathroom that probably never saw a scrub brush since he moved in.
But that wasn’t the case.
He kept a tidy living space, with soothing tones of gray-blue and earthy brown. His decor was minimal, but tasteful—black and white photographs of his Harley, or the snow-capped mountain peaks of Juniper Creek.
Ever since Trooper became an uncle, bits and pieces of his nephew’s influence began to show up in his home. A basket of colorful toys by the couch in the living room. Drawings rendered in crayon, pinned to the refrigerator. An entire shelf dedicated to snacks for kids in his pantry.
Trooper pulled out two trays of food, wrapped in tin foil, that had been left to warm in the oven. When he removed the foil, steam wafted into the air with a mouthwatering scent that made my stomach rumble.
“Black pepper roast beef,” he announced. “With parmesan rosemary bread rolls, and an honorary side dish of roasted vegetables in a creamy feta sauce. So, now you can’t say that I don’t eat my veggies.”
“Theo,” I said softly, marveling at the plate he passed into my hand. “This is incredible.”
He looped an arm around my waist and kissed my temple.
“Does that mean you’re impressed with my domestic skills?”
I laughed and glanced up at him.
“It means I’m suspicious. Where did you learn to do all this?”
