Love, Chocolate, and Beer (Cactus Creek) (34 page)

She’d simply had no idea all these people had been so touched by what she’d considered such small gestures. Every bit of love they’d shared with her filled her heart so much that it almost hurt.

When she told Luke as much, his eyes turned even more adoring. “Sweetie, you have this gigantic heart filled with a downright inspiring capacity for love. But you’ve spent all your time giving it instead of letting yourself receive it. So now that it’s all coming back to you, your heart’s just getting a little overfull is all. Don’t worry, it’ll make room. It’s your heart, after all. It knows it has to keep up, simply for what you do for others...and who you are.”

Irrationally, that of course made her cry even more, and through her tears, she realized that her heart did feel different. She felt different.

Like a five-year-old pointing an accusatory thumb, her mind declared, “Luke started it.”

He really had.

* * * * *

“HEY, SWEETHEART.
How was work?” asked Luke, packing his laptop and the depressing projected post-lease-increase financial predictions away to make room for Dani on the bed.

Dani threw her keys on her dresser and flung herself onto the covers beside him. “It was fine. Derek stopped by for maybe ten seconds for a take-out order. He said hi and left. I honestly don’t know what’s going on with him lately. He won’t even talk to me about it. Jonathan says it’s just about his job but I can’t help feeling like it’s about me.”

“Give it time.” He pulled her into his arms, comforting her as best he could. “I’m sure it’s not you. Your brother just hit a rough patch. Quitting a job he was at for five years to look for a new career path can’t be easy on the guy, even if it was his choice.”

“That’s just it. He’s
not
looking; he knows what path he should be on already.” With that cryptic remark, her voice shrank away, getting smaller the more obscure her words became. Soon, she seemed to be talking more to herself than him. “I just wish I could help him,” she whispered, eyes closed. “I should’ve. Not that I would’ve...” She trailed off her scattered ramblings and then shook her head, tucking her chin on his chest and ruefully refocusing her eyes on his again. “Sorry, I’m not making any sense. My brain’s scrambled tonight.”

A wobbly half-dim smile edged her lips. “Why don’t we talk about your day instead? Rylan was telling me Quinn has a new Red and White Day promotion. How’s that going?”

The last thing Luke wanted to do was change the subject. Lately, Dani looked like she was dealing with the weight of a boulder on her shoulders and he couldn’t figure out why that was. Whenever he’d bring it up, she’d
almost
look ready to talk about it...before sadly smiling away the subject.
Tonight, however, her exhausted features were begging him more strongly than usual to put a pin in their discussion and wade them over to shallower waters.

He sighed and tried not to take it personally. “The promos are going as good as can be expected, I suppose. We don’t have the same traction as we did with Valentine’s Day but we’re doing well for March.” Still troubled by the sadness in her eyes, he began absently kneading his fingers down her back.

She groaned softly. “You know, I’m getting addicted to these massages you keep giving me. If you’re not careful, I’m going to turn all diva and start expecting them every night.”

He brightened a little then, chuckling at the impossible notion. “I’m not worried. I think last Sunday alone is proof positive that you going diva on me will never happen.”

“Last week?” she peered at him quizzically. “Oh, hehe, the wedding.”

“Let’s recap, shall we? The day of my friend’s wedding, you ran to the grocery store in your PJs to get a last-minute wedding card. When you got back, you took a one-minute shower and then yanked on an un-ironed dress, along with a lovely pair of rubber beach slippers—the only non-sneaker footwear I think you own. You air-dried your hair with the window down in the car on the way to the reception. Once there, you promptly helped the bartender—who you of course knew—run the bar when he got backed up, and snort-laughed when the waiter brought you wine instead of beer to drink for the bride and groom toast. After a fierce game of tag with every child at the wedding, you then sucker-bet me and dragged me out to dance horrifying NFL end zone classics like the Sprinkler, the Dougie, and the Dice Roll as your prize. Next came my personal highlight of the evening when you tossed whiskey back with my buddies while owning them in NBA smack talk. Finally, on the way home from the hotel, you begged me to get us a deep-dish pizza as a post-wedding snack, but you didn’t even let us eat it till it was cold because you attacked me in the living room and had your wicked way with me on the carpet. Twice.”

Her whole body was shaking in hilarity by the time he was done.

“So no, honey, I don’t think you’re ever going to go diva on me.” He grinned, perhaps even more in love with her now after the Dani highlight reel. “That doesn’t mean I won’t treat you like one though. I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop spoiling you even after the seventeen Valentine’s Days. It’s too much fun. You may very well have to suffer through more foolishly romantic gifts,” he said, completely serious. “Like last-minute drives to San Diego during red tide season.”

The reminder made her smile softly. “I still can’t believe you did that for me. Seeing that red water turn electric blue at night was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes warmed as he studied her face. “
You’re
the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

Rolling her eyes, she snuggled against his chest. “You’re good for my ego. I think I’ll keep you around to tell me things like that when I’m old and wrinkled.”

He felt a sharp tug in his rib cage. Lately, Dani had been letting long-term talk like that slip out more and more, giving him hope that he knew was premature.

It wasn’t as if Dani ever got excessively tense or even skittish with the topic. No, she would usually just laugh as if she were on a different page—or more like a totally different book. Take her giving him a spare key to her apartment yesterday for example—a milestone for most couples. Not so for Dani. She’d matter-of-factly told him that with her extra late work hours, the key was so he could let himself in on the nights he wanted to come over when she wouldn’t get home until after he went to bed. She’d meant it exactly like that, too. Practical and simple.

Meanwhile, Luke had wanted it to be more of a big relationship moment. This thing they had was unlike any relationship he’d ever been in, so simple that it looped back around to being complex. On the surface, Dani had all the makings of a classic casual girlfriend, never planning or overanalyzing things between them. Paradoxically, she also seemed made to be the perfect wife and mother. She was kind of like a sexy girl-next-door buddy and Suzy homemaker rolled into one with her heart on her sleeve and a mild case of commitment A.D.D.

Fascinating yet unnerving at the same time.

Nevertheless, he could see himself with her for the long haul. The way she was handling his whole lease predicament was yet another solid check in the potential-wife column. Ever since he’d told her about his lease predicament, she’d been his rock, going above and beyond the call of girlfriend duty. Beyond just being there for him for moral support, he found out that she’d also begun sending customers his way via food specials for anyone who brings in a Desert Confections receipt. Instead of running in the opposite direction at the prospect of him being broke in a few months, she just threw herself into helping him make his business succeed. It was nice. She was the exact antithesis of the short-haul girlfriend.

And therein lay the root of their relationship complexities.

With their growing fame as Cactus Creek’s favorite couple, he was seeing those roots grow into thorny stems—the most recent being when an overzealous neighbor teasingly asked her if she thought he’d be ‘popping the big question’ for his seventeenth valentine.

That’s when he saw it. The discomfort bordering on fear. No, Dani wasn’t close to being ready for him to pop any sort of question.

But he was.

Seeing her settle in on ‘her side’ of the bed—because they had designated sides of the bed now—he felt a sudden, deep need to know for sure.

So he eased into his interrogation. “I always meant to ask, how come you don’t bottle your beers? You’d make a killing if you did.”

“I swear, I get asked that every day.” Her eyes twinkled. “Call me sentimental but I inherited my dad’s views on bottling. He always said beer should be fresh from the tap, foaming in a glass at a table with friends,” she reminisced with a smile. “I’ve always thought so too.”

“So you don’t have grand visions of turning your beer into the next big Sam Evans?”

She shrugged. “Nah. I like how things are now. Luckily, we’ve been successful just from in-house sales without distributing.” She gave him a thoughtful sidelong glance. “What about you? Are you aiming to give Godiva or See’s a run for their money?”

“Honestly? No. The financial security would be nice, and it’d be great to give Quinn her own location to run. But really, I’ve always dreamed of having a crop farm like my folks have.”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A farm?”

“Why, can’t you see me as a farmer?”

She thought about it for a bit before her lips tilted to one side. “You know, I actually can. You’d make a sexy farmer. Count me in to help during harvest season.”

His pulse sped up a bit. “Your turn. If you weren’t a brewmaster, what would you do?”

“I’d cook,” she said definitively. “Maybe a dive restaurant, something tiny with a grill.”

“Yeah?”

“But I don’t think I’d ever be able to get rid of the brew bug. I’d have to at least have a small craft brew set-up with it too.”

He leaned her back against the bed and began kissing the spot behind her ear that always seemed to muddle her mind. “You know, there are a lot of farmers who have home brewing systems. I also know of some family crop farms that have restaurants on site too.”

“Mmm hmm,” she hummed, losing track of the conversation.

“We could put both on a farm together.”

She went still.

“Don’t hyperventilate.” He helped slide off her shirt, distracting her from over-thinking his words. “Just do a little dreaming out loud with me. It’ll be like playing pretend. C’mon, it’ll be fun.” His expression was jovial, completely innocent as he nipped at her shoulder.

She shivered at his ministrations. “
Fine
, but you better darn well put out later, mister.”

He chuckled against her sternum as he paused in indecision whether to travel right or left.

“Well,” she began breathlessly, awaiting his decision as well. “If we had a farm, yeah, I’d want a space to have small brew systems setup so our restaurant could serve our own beer.”

“And?” He chose left.

Her breath broke on a moan when she felt the hot suction of his mouth. He paused, silently telling her he wouldn’t continue unless she did. She let out a frustrated breath and kept talking. “The restaurant would be open from brunch to late lunch, but the crop farm just in the mornings except for seasonal picking in the evenings.”

Damn, even half-drunk with arousal, the woman could put together the foundation for a pretty good plan. For
business
. “What about kids?” he asked quietly.

A little more coherent now, her voice dropped off a little. “Maybe.”

That ‘
maybe
’ twisted his insides, spiked his dreams with doubt. “I think you’d be a great mom,” he proceeded carefully. “You basically mother everyone and you’re a natural with kids.”

“But I’ll never be voted head of the PTA. Like mother, like daughter, right?”

He frowned at the bitter twinge of hurt in her voice. “Screw the PTA. Your kids will absolutely adore you, trust me. Their friends will too for that matter. The sports-nut beer mom who cooks—you kidding? You’ll be the cool mom well past the college years.”

Laugher rippled out of her. “I never thought of it like that.” She slid her hands around his waist. “At least I’ll be able to keep up with you then. You’ll be a wonderful dad.”

His heart thumped.
Keep it light.
“Hey, can we have a few dogs in this dream too?”

She laughed. “Of course. Oh, and you definitely need to keep making chocolates. Wow, can you imagine a little restaurant that served lunch with farm-picked produce, beer brewed fresh, and chocolates made on site by a master chocolatier?” Her eyes took on a far-off look.

He could. Never had a dream seemed so close to reality. “So, folks would come in for crop picking in the mornings and stay for lunch, which would be served with our famous beer and chocolates.” His mouth teased over her collarbone. “Our kids would be angels who did all their chores before family time every evening. Then you and I would stay up late every night having crazy sex.” He nuzzled her neck. “That’s a great dream, babe.”

A suffered sigh, tinted with adoration whooshed out of her. “You are—”