Twelve more steps, I counted, my fingers gripping around the rope handle. Eight more. My heart pounded behind my ears. In my haste, I did notice that no lights were on in his house, not even the bedroom on the second floor where he might be. I'll be there three seconds sooner if I jump …
"Don't!"
From directly below, I heard the warning shout, but it was abruptly cut short as I plummeted toward the ground. We collided mid-air, tumbling onto the lawn in a heap. Mine would've been a perfect ten-point landing had the intruder's body not been blocking my way. Instead, I lay on my side, dazed and spitting out grass.
"Whoever you are," I wheezed once my body regained its equilibrium, "I don't have time to explain the theory of private property or breaking and entering."
The prowler was behind me on hands and knees, quietly gasping in the shadows. I knew I'd probably knocked the wind out of him, and deservedly so! I didn't have time to worry about him, my only thought was to make it through that door across the street and up those stairs.
"I won't call the cops this time," I added, rolling onto my knees. "But you should know I sleep with a wrench under my pillow."
"Feels like you used it on me."
I wheeled around to find Henry rubbing his forehead.
"Are your shoes made of cement, woman?"
"Knightly?" My eyes strained, pulling in every bit of light from the streetlamp.
"I saw you at the window." He crawled over, a hand still at his forehead.
"Did I hurt you?" I asked, only half feeling the pain shooting from my own right shoulder.
"It's nothing." One side of his face was matted with grass and dirt. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"I saw my car and … "
He angled his chin to the light. To say the sight was soul-shaking might be a dramatic stretch, but that's how I felt as our eyes met in the dark.
"How long have you been back?" I asked, silently praying he wouldn't inform me that he'd been around for days and was just now finding the time to pop in and say hello.
"Exactly"-he squinted at his watch-"one minute and twenty seconds." His face was tired and a little weathered, his clothes and hair uncharacteristically disheveled. He noticed my wondering stare. "I left home seventeen hours ago," he explained, smoothing out his collar.
"Oakland?"
"No," he replied, looking a little confused at my assumption. "The ranch. I flew back right after dropping off Julia and Dart, then drove back here in your car." He was brushing grass from the knees of his pants. "You need to have your tires rotated. I would've done that along the way, but I know how you are about accepting unrequested favors."
I think I was nodding, but only half listening to his small talk. There were a few things I needed to say, because, like my sweet roommate had said, life was too short to wait.
"Henry." I jumped in before his voice had time to fade out. "Julia told me what you did for her."
His brow furrowed, playing confused.
"Thank you. I know it must've been … unpleasant." I exhaled a dark laugh. Obviously unpleasant was an understatement.
"You don't have to-"
"Please. I need to say this."
The lines in his forehead disappeared as he nodded and sat back.
"There've been mistakes … screw-ups, and I wish there was some kind of magical phrase I could turn to explain, to tell you … " I trailed off and groaned. "Yes?"
I'd stopped speaking when Henry's mouth popped open, dying to butt in. He was holding up one finger now.
"You just can't help yourself, can you?"
"Sorry," he said. "But I have to interrupt here." He scooted around so we were sitting across from each other on the cool grass. The light from the streetlamp was shining in my favor now, illuminating Henry's face. I could see a little welt-approximately the size of my Doc Martin heel-swelling on his forehead. I could also see that he'd just lifted a tiny smile.
"I have no intention of turning this into one of those lectures you find so irritating, but I do want to let you in on a few things."
"Okay?"
"Number one, I really blow at reading between the lines, so don't bother trying to drum up some idiom that isn't one hundred percent clear. Two, I've known you long enough to know there's not a person on this earth who can argue you into something you don't already believe." He lifted another half smile. "A lawyer's worse nightmare. Third and lastly … "
From his expression, I knew he was considering, formulating the sentences in his head before speaking. Some things never changed.
"Lastly, as much as I enjoyed being with you that night at the ranch, and when we were camping, and … in my kitchen." He took a decisive pause, looking me in the eyes. I felt that pile of hot bricks on my chest from all those nights ago. "Well," he continued, "that wasn't exactly the way I wanted it then, and it's definitely not the way I want it now."
His last declaration threw me. Just like that, hot bricks dissolved into cold liquid.
"You don't … " I could barely speak. "You don't want me now."
He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze unwavering. "Don't want you?" he repeated slowly. "Springer." He reached across the darkness and took my hand. "I have never wanted anything in my life more than you."
I felt like the weight of the world had flown from my shoulders as I gazed at him, his lips pulling back into a smile. I reached out to touch his face, but he caught my wrist.
"This goes no further," he said, lowering my extended arm down to my side, "until I hear it from you." He removed his other hand from mine, sat back on his heels and folded his arms. "I need this, Spring. I need to hear it."
A set of battling creatures descended upon my insides. One was attempting to calm me, while the other filled me with a totally different kind of nervousness. Because I knew what Henry was after.
Never in my life had I said those words. I'd tried to show him before, but that wasn't enough. Henry was braver than me, he'd already said it months ago, fearlessly. I was not feeling as brave.
He sighed impatiently. "Are you going to say it?" he asked. "You know you want to." There he was again, that confident, self-assured, sexy Greek hero who was completely certain of everything he did. His delicious lips pressed together, hiding a smile as he inched closer. "Because I don't know how much longer I can hold out. I traveled for three days straight. The last day was in your car, listening to the only CDs you had in there. Alanis Morissette on repeat. She's stuck in my head." His angel face twisted with exaggerated pain. "Any idea what that's doing to me right now?"
"You listened to Alanis?"
"And Fiona." He shrugged good-naturedly, charmingly. "Though I think I prefer-"
"Henry," I cut him off, scooted forward on my grass-stained knees and took his hands. "Henry Edward Knightly … the third," I added in a whisper, giving him a knowing grin. I ran my hands up his arms. "You drive me absolutely crazy." He chuckled softly and looked down. "You amaze me." I lifted his chin. "And I love you."
Before my voice had faded out, Henry's arms were around me. It must change something in your chemistry when you kiss someone for the first time after saying I love you. I would never mock Julia or her theories again. Never.
The next thing I knew, we were down on the ground, adding new patches of green to our previously grass-stained clothing. Henry was already a mess, and personally, the more tangled and twisted he became, the more insanely attractive he grew. I lovingly extracted blades of grass from his hair, while he wiped whatever foliage it was that was stuck to the side of my face.
"Won't it be interesting," he whispered, pressing my hand against his chest, "to actually be with each other in broad daylight without feeling the need to hide behind a gas station?"
"What a kissing tramp you turned me into on our campout."
That spicy, virile, distinctive quality that exuded from his pores was now seeping into my bloodstream. I welcomed it in with every breath.
"Hardly," he said with a laugh, tugging my arm. I obliged by wrapping my top leg around his to further intertwine us. "I don't believe it's considered trampy if you're dating."
I rolled closer so I could burrow into his neck. That smell. "We weren't dating then."
He swept the hair from the nape of my neck, his finger tracing a swirling pattern over my skin. "Details," he said. "But I would like to do this right, just the same."