After the waitress left, I picked up my fork.
“You’re very polite.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, in general you are, but to wait staff, especially.”
She had chatted to the hostess, thanked the wine steward, was very friendly with all the staff in the restaurant. I found it endearing.
“My parents instilled manners and being polite into me from a young age. They felt everyone deserved a pleasant smile or a kind word. My grandmother used to tell me that you never know what another person is going through, and sometimes your smile might be something that makes a difference in their day.”
I stared at her, my respect for her growing even more. I fully agreed with her, and I admired her for that quality.
“I was a waitress at the local coffee shop when I was a teenager,” she added. “I know how tough a job it is, and people should respect them for their effort.”
“Did you like it?”
She scrunched up her nose. “Like would be a strong word. In the small town where I lived, there wasn’t an abundance of jobs. I babysat when I was younger, but I needed more money toward school, and I got the chance, so I tried it. During the school year, I worked weekends and in the summer, I got more shifts. It served its purpose, but it gave me a healthy respect for people who do it as a career.”
“Your parents didn’t pay for school?”
“They contributed, but I wanted to pay for as much as I could myself. It was important to me.”
I nodded in understanding. I felt the same way when I was going to school, so her declaration didn’t surprise me. I knew she was independent and stubborn. I liked both those traits.
Every trait I discovered, every story she told me, the harder I knew I was falling. I loved finding out all the things that made Avery so special. Her gentle voice was like a balm to my soul. Her quiet chuckle made me happy, and when I made her laugh loudly with some of my comments, the sound was so infectious that I had to laugh with her.
After dinner, we’d taken a walk along the river, not talking much, but enjoying the shared silence. She fit effortlessly under my arm, tucked into my side as if she belonged there.
I watched her fondly as she slipped some money into the hand of a homeless person, stopping briefly to speak to him. My affection grew as she pulled me into a bakery and bought cookies and bread to share with her elderly neighbors. Then she stopped on the return walk to give some to the same man, who thanked her with tears in his eyes. I tugged her closer, dropping a kiss to her head in silent approval, marveling at her kindness. She obviously was a caregiver, and loved to look after people—even those she didn’t know well. Her compassionate heart overflowed with love.
She took care of others, and now, I decided, it was time someone took care of her.
And that someone was me.
Leaving her at her door had been difficult; it took all my restraint not to beg her to pack a bag and spend the entire weekend with me. Once again, our kisses had turned deep and frantic. It seemed every time Avery was in my arms and a wall or door was close that was where she ended up—pressed between it and me. I told her I had no choice but to lift her up when kissing her, otherwise my neck would get stiff. She laughed as she arched into me, saying one stiff thing to deal with was enough. I almost dropped her I laughed so hard, but I managed to keep her close and kiss her once more.
The night had seemed endless without her in my bed. How one night with her sleeping beside me could possibly change my sleeping pattern, I had no idea, but without her, I was restless. The pillow she slept on smelled like her, honey and flowers. The only way I could fall asleep was to wrap around it and pretend it was her; all the while knowing I was totally and truly a goner.
I’d been pacing the driveway when she drove in, waving as she pulled to a stop. She barely turned off the engine when I had her out of the car, lifting her up and kicking her door shut, pinning her against it, eager to feel her lips beneath mine. We groaned as our mouths fused together, a sense of completion settling over me. From the sweet smile on Avery’s face, I knew she felt it, as well.
She was especially adorable in the stable. Nervous and trying not to show it, she followed quietly as I showed her around, standing well back from any of the horses, except the three small ponies that were currently under my care. Those she reached out to stroke and pet with her tender hands. When I introduced her to Goldie, the gentlest horse in the stable, and offered to saddle her up, her nervousness had showed in the twisting of her fingers and the way she tugged on her shirtsleeves. However, she greeted my suggestion she ride with me with far more enthusiasm.
Now, seeing her reach out to Zen, I had a feeling I would soon get her up in the saddle and riding herself. I hoped so, anyway. I loved riding and wanted to share that with her.
I wanted to share everything with her.
When she glanced my way, I sat up, leaning against the tree, and patted the space between my legs. She’d been gone away from me for too long. I tugged off my shirt, using it to cushion my back from the rough bark of the tree. When she settled against my chest, I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight.
Neither of us said a word, happy to be close.
Closing my eyes, I relaxed, resting my chin on top of Avery’s head, feeling her heartbeat under my forearms and occasionally nuzzling the top of her head.
She idly stroked my arm with her fingers. “You have a tattoo.”
“I have two.”
“Will you tell me about them?”