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His lips twitched. “It’s good to know my kisses make you lose your head, but okay, I won’t kiss you. Not until you’re ready. And then you’ll have to kiss me. I don’t want to overstep.”
“Are you making fun of me?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Of course not,” he said, leading her back toward the gate. “Come on, Chewy. Let’s get you washed off.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m about to hose off Chewy so we can eat dinner. I’m starving. It’s been a long day.”
“You’re not going to argue with me about this?”
“About what?” he asked.
She growled low in her throat and Chewy and Colt looked at her with identical surprised expressions. “About me not being ready for a relationship.”
“Why would I argue with you?” he asked. “I think you’d be the one to know when you’re ready. And when you are, I’ll be here.”
“And what if I’m never ready?” she asked, her fists on her hips.
“Then I guess we’ll just have a lot of home-cooked meals, walks around the lake, and the occasional trip to the golf course. And maybe you could come on Sundays for lunch with my family. They really like you.”
“That sounds a whole lot like a relationship to me,” she said.
“There are all kinds of relationships,” Colt said, maneuvering Chewy into the drying tube. “Good Lord, how much does this dog weigh?”
“A lot,” she said, fighting a smile as the drying tube turned on and Chewy’s abundant fur started flying in all directions. “What do you mean, there are all kinds of relationships?”
“Well, I know the kind of relationship I want with you,” he said. “I want the happily ever after until death do us part kind of relationship.”
“You’re crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “We just met. And I just got divorced.”
“That’s a good thing,” he said. “You being married would definitely hinder my plans. While you’re figuring all this stuff out I figure I can be a good friend, and eventually you won’t be able to resist me. I did like that kiss this afternoon. I was hoping we could do some more of that, but I’ll leave that to you. But I should warn you, I’m told I’m very charming. I’m also Irish, which means I have a head as hard as a rock.”
“I thought the Irish were drunks and wanderers,” she said, skeptically.
“Some are,” he said. Chewy hopped out of the dryer and shook himself. He looked like a giant dandelion puff. “But the Irish are also poets and believers of things that can’t always be explained. Like love at first sight.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Lord, you’re a head case. Maybe you need to see a doctor.”
“We can play doctor once you decide to kiss me again,” he said, cheekily. “But for now, I need red meat and potatoes. And over dinner we can discuss all the things we’re going to do together that aren’t considered a date.”
“You’re impossible,” she said, throwing up her hands and heading back inside.
“I haven’t even gotten started.”
Chapter Eleven
There was a rhythm to Laurel Valley. And as the last dregs of summer held on as tightly as the leaves clinging to the trees, Zoe found she’d become an integral part of the local fabric. The only problem was she was now expected to join the O’Haras in their massive Sunday lunches after church.
She’d been using her deadline as an excuse not to come for weeks. But now that she’d made her deadline and the book was turned in she couldn’t think of another reason not to be there. Though she was thinking of starting another project just so she could avoid the experience. A room full of O’Haras all at one time was intimidating to say the least. Especially since in a small group or on an individual basis they weren’t at all subtle about their probing into her and Colt’s relationship.
She shuffled into the kitchen to start the coffee and did her stretches as the sun turned the sky a pinkish hue. She put on a pair of old sweats since the mornings had become chilly and put on her old sneakers. And then she blew out a sigh at the challenge that lay snoring before her.
“Get up, Chewy,” she said, lifting the side of his bed to wake him up.
He growled in response just like he did every morning. It turned out Chewy was not a morning person.
“Lord, you’re heavy,” she said, panting. “Do we have to do this every morning? Get. Up.”
