Just Kiss Me by Rachel Gibson

Author:Rachel Gibson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-07-26T04:00:00+00:00

Henry poured a cup of coffee and his gaze fell on Vivien’s empty wineglass on his coffee table. He stood in his kitchen wearing jeans, a wrinkled T-shirt, and the flip-flops Vivien had worn the night before. The clock on the coffeemaker indicated that it was eight fifteen. Vivien would be gone by now, cruising at 35,000 feet, somewhere between South Carolina and California.

A burnt bagel popped up from his toaster and he lathered it up with cream cheese. He’d only caught a few hours of sleep before he’d had to wake Vivien earlier. She’d been warm and comfy, curled up next to him as if she belonged in his arms and in his bed. She’d fallen asleep first, and he’d watched the rise and fall of her small breasts and her pale face surrounded by all that dark hair. She was thin—perhaps too thin—but her muscles were toned and her skin smooth. The stress lines he’d noticed all week in her forehead were smooth and she looked as if she’d finally found some peace. Her sleep had been deep, her breath even as if she trusted him to keep her warm and safe, but Henry was the last person she should trust.

It had still been dark when he’d driven her to the carriage house to grab her suitcase before her 6-a.m. flight. She’d eaten an apple and washed it down with strong coffee and they’d chatted about the weather and which airline served the best breakfast in first class. They’d talked about Macy Jane’s funeral, but as if by tacit agreement, neither spoke of the night before. As Vivien quickly changed her clothes, Henry had kept an eye on the big house. He’d half expected his mother’s bedroom to be ablaze with light as she awaited Vivien’s return. If she’d been awake and seen his car pull up to the townhouse, his cellphone would have started ringing and his mother’s severely displeased voice would demand to know why he’d brought Vivien home so late, or early in the morning rather. If she suspected anything, she definitely would have had something to say about it by now, but his cell hadn’t so such as beeped with a text and there hadn’t been so much as a lamp burning in the big house. He hadn’t spoken with his mother since he’d left her house yesterday. She was the last person he wanted to speak to now. Henry took a big bite and washed it down with coffee. From the moment Vivien had walked into his house last night—no, the moment she’d slid into his car, he’d fought an impulse to touch her and pull her against his chest. He’d fought it as she’d unpinned her hair and shook her head, letting loose the scent of wild flowers. He’d succeeded in fighting it even as she’d sat on his couch, her bare legs stretched out on the beige cushions, laughing and trying to rile him up. Then she’d cried for her momma, her green eyes filling with tears and pain, her voice breaking, and he’d lost the fight.

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