The Way to Her Heart (15 page)

She shrugged. “I’m not unhappy.”

“Well, it’s a start.”

“It is. Let’s go find your not-quite girlfriend a kickass Christmas present.” She stood and held her hand out to him.

***

With his shopping done, Josh was able to relax and enjoy the holidays. He put in a ton of extra time at the restaurant, but he enjoyed it and looked forward to the day when he would be finished with school and could cook full-time. He planned to get a business degree after high school and then attend the same culinary school as his dad. His dream was to be the head chef at Trouvaille and maybe someday open his own restaurant. Before his dad and brother died, he had hoped to get a football scholarship and perhaps study medicine; since their deaths everything had changed, including his aspirations. He had discovered his love and talent for cooking as he strove to find a way to remember his dad. He feared maybe he was using cooking as a way to deal with his grief, but his therapist advised him not to worry. It may have started as that, but as long as he enjoyed it he should continue.

He was at the restaurant in the early afternoon the Saturday before Christmas, assisting the pastry chef with the night’s featured dessert. Bernie was supposed to come by on her lunch hour, and he had to stop himself from checking his phone and the door every five minutes. She finally arrived and Josh watched her talking with Maurice, noticing how tired and worn she looked. She was still staying up late looking into Gabby’s social media and had spent several long evenings with Natalia and Sofia, planning a memorial service for Gabby. He finished the miniature cake he was working on, put two on a plate, and carried them to the table.

“Here’s dessert, but you have to eat your lunch first.” He knew her sweet tooth would have her diving in if he let her.

“How cute! They look like Ding Dongs.”

“What? No, they don’t!” But he looked again at the small, round chocolate cakes and realized they did indeed look like Ding Dongs. “Shit. That’s exactly what they look like.”

“But classy Ding Dongs. I’m sure they’ll taste amazing.”

“You don’t have to make me feel better. They weren’t my idea.” He turned away to get their lunch—ham and Gruyère on a baguette. “You want iced tea?” He brought a pitcher and sat across from her. “I can’t believe I’ve been working all morning making Ding Dongs. I wonder how many comments we’ll get tonight about it?” The ridiculousness suddenly struck him and he laughed.

“Just don’t top them with the white icing loops,” Bernie added. She laughed with him, her face lighting up in a way that twisted his gut.

“So, are you going to be home tonight, or do you have plans?”

“No plans. Why? Do you need me to clear out for a while?”

“No, of course not! I’d never ask you to do that. It’s your home too, you know.” He was appalled she thought he would ever ask her to leave.

“Thanks. That’s sweet, Josh, but it’s not. Not really. I mean, I appreciate you and your mom taking me in, but it’s temporary. I need to start looking for a place of my own. I’ll be eighteen pretty soon and able to rent an apartment.”

He was conflicted; on one hand he wanted her to stay there for good, but he realized it was impossible. He was also impatient for her to have her own place so he could possibly act on his growing feelings for her. “I don’t want you to leave, but I get you want your own place. I’ll help you look, okay?”

“Sure, thanks.”

“Anyway, I asked because if you’re going to be home, I thought I could make pizza and we could watch movies. If you want.” He shrugged as if her answer didn’t matter. He knew he couldn’t date her yet, but he loved spending time with her.

“Sounds great. I’ll be home by six. So, Christmas is Tuesday. What do you and your mom usually do?”

“I guess we’ll go to the grandparents’. We always used to go to Gran’s on Christmas Eve and Grammy and Pop’s on Christmas Day. We didn’t do anything last year, though, so I don’t know for sure.”

“Hey.” She reached across the table and put her hand on his. “Sorry I keep reminding you. That’s not cool.”

He turned his palm up and clasped her hand; he couldn’t help himself. “It’s not your fault, Bernie. We’re doing a lot better this year. I’m looking forward to Christmas. It’s going to be fun with you there.”

“That was an incredibly nice thing to say.” She squeezed his hand, and they stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. “You and your mom are so strong. I don’t know how you’ve managed.”

“With drugs and lots of therapy.” He caught Maurice staring at them and reluctantly released her hand. “Plus, I was a zombie for a whole year.”

“I think you should cut yourself some slack. Can I eat my Ding Dong yet?”

He chuckled, appreciating her attempt to lighten the suddenly serious mood. He pushed the plate toward her. “Knock yourself out.” He watched as she cracked through the semisweet chocolate shell into the dark chocolate cake and creamy custard.

“Mmm. This tastes nothing like a freakin’ Ding Dong. I give it two thumbs way up.”

He had to agree with her.

***

He was topping the second pizza when Bernie came in from work. He glanced up and was struck by his desire to walk across the kitchen and pull her into his arms. Instead, he smiled and turned back to his pizza. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. What kind of pizza are we having?” She set her bag down and crossed to his side. “Is that pineapple?”

“Ham and pineapple, one of my all-time faves. You’ll love it.”

“I’ll reserve judgment. I don’t know how I feel about fruit on my pizza. What are we watching?” She snagged a piece of pineapple out of the small bowl.

“Your turn to choose.” He slid the pizzas in the oven and grabbed a couple sodas out of the fridge. He handed one to Bernie and popped the top on his own. “Hey, Maurice owns a triplex near the university. He says he may have a vacancy in a few months. What do you think?”

“I think it sounds expensive. I’m going to need to find a cheap place.”

Josh decided he’d make sure she could afford the rent; he didn’t like the thought of her living in the kind of place she could likely afford. “No need to decide right now. Let’s go see what we can find on Netflix while the pizzas bake. What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm. Something with explosions and maybe aliens. I could go classic.”

“I think I know just the thing and I’ve got it on DVD. Be right back.” He set his soda on the coffee table and jogged upstairs to retrieve the movie from his room.

“
Independence Day
?
Never seen it.” She took it from him and turned it over to read the back of the case.

“I think you’ll like it. It’s got aliens, plenty of explosions, and Will Smith. It was Caleb’s favorite movie.”

She looked up at him. “Are you okay with watching it?”

He loved that she asked. “Yeah. It’ll be a good thing.”

It was. He might have gotten slightly misty at Bill Pullman’s speech; Caleb had absolutely loved that part. If he closed his eyes he could almost imagine his brother sitting on the floor in front of the television. He smiled and turned to see if Bernie was enjoying it. She seemed to be into it and had even become a fan of ham-and-pineapple pizza. This girl was a total keeper.

“You up for another? I’ll make popcorn. Unless you’re too tired?” He remembered how exhausted she’d looked at lunch.

“No, I’m fine. Popcorn sounds good. You want to pick the movie this time?”

“Nah, you go ahead.” He returned ten minutes later, popcorn bowl in hand to find Bernie browsing Netflix.

“How do you feel about a romantic comedy?” she asked.

He did a double take and narrowed his eyes when he saw the impish expression on her face. “Sure, sounds great. You don’t really want any of this popcorn, do you? I didn’t think so. I’ll just keep it over here.” He set the bowl on the end table beside him. She abandoned the remote and dove for the popcorn. He used her inattention to make a move for the remote and thus control over the movie choice. A wrestling match ensued as they both laughed hysterically and fought for the remote. Josh ended up flat on his back on the sofa, remote held over his head, with Bernie sprawled on top of him, reaching for the control.

“Give it back! You can’t withhold popcorn
and
pick the movie!” She could barely speak through her laughter.

He loved seeing her like this; she was usually so somber and serious, especially since Gabby’s body had been discovered. A silly, laughing Bernie was incredibly attractive to him. “No way! You’re gonna try and make me watch some lame-ass chick flick.”

“I was kidding! I’ll pick something good, I swear.” She laughed and tried to swipe the remote, but his arms were much longer than hers and he kept it beyond her reach.

“I’m not sure I can trust you.” He tried to look stern but couldn’t manage it through his laughter. He couldn’t say exactly when it all changed, but their laughter died slowly and they simply stared at each other. He felt the remote drop as his hand came forward to brush the purple-streaked hair out of her face. She closed her eyes for a moment as his fingers caressed her cheek lightly, then she opened them and leaned closer to lay her lips on his.
Holy moly, Bernie’s kissing me!
He was shocked, but instinct took over as his hand threaded through her hair to cup the back of her head and his other arm snaked around her waist. He pushed the inconvenient voice of his mother to the farthest reaches of his brain and concentrated on kissing the beautiful girl lying in his arms. Her lips were the most incredible thing he’d ever felt, but she seemed hesitant, as if she wasn’t sure what to do. He had no such issues and used his experience to great advantage, gentling nibbling her lower lip before stroking it slowly with his tongue. Her hands found their way into his hair, one settling lower to stroke his jaw as she allowed him to open her mouth and her tongue hesitantly met his. He was in heaven. He’d always enjoyed kissing, but this was
kissing
.
Everything about her, from the taste of her lips to the way her breath mingled with his, was amazing. Simply put, kissing Bernie was the best thing he’d ever done. He had no idea how long they’d been at it when sanity reared its ugly head and he remembered why he’d never done this before—balance of power. As long as Bernie lived in his house under his protection, she was strictly off-limits romantically. The thought was delivered in his mother’s voice, and he realized she could walk in any second; surely she was past due to be home from closing the restaurant in Rio Rancho. He certainly didn’t want her to walk in right at this moment. So, although it was the very last thing in the world he wanted to do, he groaned and pulled away from Bernie’s intoxicating lips, pushing her gently away.

She sat up, fingers against her lips, a look of horror on her face. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know—I’m so sorry.” She bolted off the couch and ran from the room.

“Bernie, no! It’s okay.” But he was talking to the air.

***

He
flopped back against the sofa and scrubbed his hands over his face.
Crap.
This was not how he pictured their first kiss going down. He certainly hadn’t planned for her to run off and lock herself in her bedroom. There had been a whole lot more cuddling and follow-up kisses in his daydreams. But it had been an amazing kiss, the best he’d ever experienced. He’d never been so tempted to go farther than simply kissing before. So, okay, he’d gone a
little
farther than kissing with a few of his girlfriends, but he was still a virgin. He’d meant what he said to his mom earlier in the fall; he wanted to be seriously in love with the first girl he ever slept with. Maybe it wasn’t a common attitude among guys his age, but it was how he felt. And he desperately needed to stop thinking about sleeping with Bernie. Right. Now. He needed to take either a cold shower or a long run. He opted for both—the run followed by a cold shower—and jogged upstairs to throw on some running shorts and a t-shirt.

“Bernie?” He knocked softly on her bedroom door. “I’m going for a run. I’ll lock up before I leave. Mom should be home soon.”

He waited endless seconds before she replied. “’Kay.”

He ran hard, pushing and punishing himself for five miles while listening to his loudest, most raucous playlist. He wasn’t angry with Bernie. He really wasn’t angry with himself, either; there was nothing wrong with enjoying the kiss of a beautiful girl. But he realized it made everything harder now. Scratch that. Poor word choice. It made everything
more difficult
. Yes, much better. He added an extra half-mile.

His mom was curled up in her chair with a glass of wine and her Kindle when he got home. He retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge and choked when she spoke behind him.

“Late-night run, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna grab a shower.” He turned to leave.

“Josh.”

He froze at her stern tone.
Crap. How did she always know?
“Mom?”

“Is there anything we need to discuss?”

“No.” Did he sound as guilty as he felt?