11

How am I supposed to study with Edward's offer sitting on my brain? He hasn't brought up our Napa Valley adventure again since Monday, as if by not giving me any details, I won't be distracted. Wrong, awesome boyfriend. You are so wrong.

After my final review session on Wednesday morning, I convince myself that a diversion, just a quick trip to buy myself one new outfit for the trip, will clear my head. It's all for the good of my studying, which will be so much more productive after I get this out of my system.

During the whole bus ride to my favorite little boutique, I indulge my imagination, and boy, has that thing learned to run wild since meeting Edward. I close my eyes, and I conjure Edward, just ahead on his bike, leading me through neat lines of grapes growing fat and juicy under the warm Napa sun. He passes tastes of wine from his tongue to mine when the guide isn't looking; we swallow more than we should. Our lazy, boozy lunch leaves us languid and slow for our return ride, until it kicks in that we are gonna get naked as soon as we get back to that room! We race to the hotel, arrive breathless, and even in my fantasy, I can't find a smidgeon of restraint once we reach our room.

Shopping is mildly distracting, and bonus: I come away with not one but two kicky little sundresses that will look great romping through rows of grapevines. I focus better later that evening, at least long enough to cram the concepts into my head, and well enough that I don't bomb my exam in the morning.

The hungry and thirsty weekend Hooters crowd doesn't allow for daydreams, especially with Jessica Rabbit to supervise and Rose home with the flu. It's all hands on deck. Even Emmett is behind the bar, pouring drinks, much to some of the customers' dismay.

"You want a show or you want your booze?" he snaps when they complain.

"Come on, at least shake your ass for us," one wise guy shoots back.

Emmett, being Emmett, spins around and twerks, and the crowd erupts in cheers.

"Better be careful, boss," I warn him at the taps. "You might just get yourself a full-time gig back here."

"Ha! Over Rosie's dead body!"

Closing up on Sunday night, Emmett stuffs an extra wad of twenties into my hand. "You were a rock star this week, Bella. Thanks for getting us over the hump."

I feel very much like the rag I just used to wipe down the bar—wrung out and finished—but it's always nice to be appreciated. "You think Rose will be back soon?"

"Should be back on her feet Tuesday, if not tomorrow."

"Would this be a good time to ask you for next weekend off?"

.

.

.

Edward answers my Good news: next Fri-Sun off! text as if he's been waiting for it with his phone in hand.

I'll make the plans!

And you don't have to miss MM!

.

.

.

"Don't forget, we're only a phone call away. Edward can have me back here in ninety minutes if you need anything."

"That's sweet, Bella, but 9-1-1 is only five minutes away," Mrs. C says. "And no offense, but they're a lot cuter than you. Now, go on and stop worrying about me."

"There's roast beef and turkey for sandwiches, and the enchiladas need to be reheated at—"

"Three-fifty for fifteen minutes, yeah, yeah." Mrs. Cope tut-tuts me out of the kitchen. "You've cooked enough food for an army, and I'm just one little, old lady."

"Well, who knows, Mrs. C? You might just make yourself a new friend or two."

"I'm too old for new friends." Mrs. Cope checks her watch. "Now, where is that man of yours? You two need to get on the road."

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to get rid of me!"

"Of course I'm trying to get rid of you! And I don't want you to waste one thought on me while you're away. You two enjoy your romantic getaway. You earned this, Bella. You deserve to have a wonderful time."

The doorbell rings, and my heart leaps out of my chest as it does every single time Edward comes for me. Mrs. Cope doesn't even try to beat me to the door.

Damn! Edward could be a walking, breathing ad for GQ weekend wear. From the sexy silver frames of his sunglasses to the squishy soles of his gray suede Vans—extra sexy without socks, thank you very much—the man is nothing short of edible. We might not make it to the Golden Gate Bridge before I pounce.

Then again, I'd forgotten I was wearing a skimpy, white eyelet dress until I saw Edward looking at me as if I were his breakfast. We really need to get out of here.

No such luck with Old School, who greets me with a promising, "Good morning, beautiful," and a kiss on my cheek before crossing the living room to deliver a basket of goodies to Mrs. Cope. "I did not bake any of these myself, so they should be delicious."

Mrs. Cope peers into the basket. "Oh my. You're spoiling both of us."

"That's the goal," he answers.

"Thank you for the treats, Edward. Now, you kids should really hit the road." She shoos Edward away like a fly that won't leave.

"Okay, okay, we're gone!" Edward chuckles as he hurries to follow her instructions.

He grasps my hand, throws my duffel over his shoulder, and pulls me out the door, where his car is revved and ready, just like the two of us. I know the drill by now. He opens my door; I get in, close my eyes, and wait for his world-tipping kiss.

It's been three days since one of his impromptu visits, and expectations for this weekend are through the roof—which might scare me, except come on. It's Edward, he who does not disappoint. And neither does that kiss.

Sigh.

He sets my bag down in the back seat next to his, and… be still my heart… his camera bag. I've already decided I haven't seen anything sexier than Edward holding a camera to his eye, though I am guessing his doing so with less clothes on would definitely be sexier.

He slides into the driver's seat and leans across to kiss me again. "I'm so happy you made this work, Bella."

I'm excited beyond words. In fact, I finally appreciate the meaning of "dumbstruck" because that's exactly what I am. I'm grateful he doesn't tease me about it, but shifts the car into reverse, and off we go.

He takes my hand as soon as we hit the main road, glancing over at me as if it's all too good to be true. Or maybe that's me, projecting.

"Would you like to turn on some music?"

"Got any Nine Inch Nails?"

He checks to make sure I'm joking. "I've got satellite. Have at it."

Well, this could be interesting. "Really?"

"Sure." He watches with an amused grin while I play with the dial.

"How about the oldies station?" I tease, pausing first at 90's on 9.

His smile twists into a grimace that makes me giggle. "The nineties are oldies?"

Poor Edward. I spin the knob, scrolling past all the pop stations until I reach SiriusXM-Love. "How do you feel about this one?"

"No comment," he says with a neutral expression fixed on his face.

"How about Elvis? Margaritaville? Pearl Jam… anything?"

"Whatever you like, Bella." He gives nothing away.

"Metal, reggae, hip hop… Oh! Country! Look, it's called 'The Highway'…how perfect is that?" I push the dial and turn up the volume just enough to get a coherent signal. "You like?"

"If you're happy, I'm happy."

I am happy. And so is Blake Shelton.

"Wonderin' how I ever got your little hand in mine
Lookin' over at ya like, 'Ain't she beautiful?'"

Could not have planned that any better. Edward squeezes my hand and chuckles. I can tell he doesn't mind the station but this is not his jam.

"What would you be listening to if you were alone?"

"Depends where I'm going, what time it is. I like to listen to 'All Things Considered' or 'On Point.' If those aren't on, CNN is my fallback—unless there's a football game on."

"You listen to football on the radio?"

"Mmhmm. Or I pop in an audiobook, but nothing too involved. My mind wanders too much."

"What about music?"

"I tend to listen to hits—Pulse, Blend, Alt Nation, that kind of thing—so I can keep my music library relevant for my clients."

"But what about you? What speaks to your soul?"

A slow smile spreads over his face. "You want to know my soul?" He lifts my hand to his lips and leaves a soft kiss on my knuckles. "I guess my soul is a bit eclectic. I like Bruce, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, U2, the Rolling Stones, Duke Ellington when the mood strikes…" He glances over to see my reaction, or maybe to see if I know who Duke Ellington is.

"Nice."

"I like pure instrumental when I need to think—acoustic guitar is my favorite." He looks up shyly. "How'd I do?"

"You did great. There is no right answer. I just want to know you better."

"I'm pretty easy, Bella. What you see is what you get." What I see is damn near perfect.

"Can I ask you a deeply invasive question you don't have to answer?"

He cocks an eyebrow at me. "I can hardly wait."

"Why are you still single?" As the words pass my lips, I want to kick myself. If the answer has anything at all to do with a puny peenie or being terrible in the sack, I could have discovered that for myself in just a few short hours without dragging both of us through this embarrassment. "I just meant, you're such an amazing guy, and I…" He shoots me one of his patient smiles while I deepen my own grave. "Never mind. You really don't need to answer that." Shit.

"Bella, I don't mind the question. I just don't know if I can answer it for you—or for myself, for that matter. Sometimes, I worry that what passes for insight is just an elaborate system of excuses I've designed to protect myself."

"From what?"

"From discovering I'm an asshole."

"What? You? Edward, you are the least assholish person I've ever met."

His eyes crinkle at the edge of his Ray-Bans. "I don't feel like an asshole when I'm with you."

"Well, that's something, I guess." We both chuckle softly at his sweet, weird confession.

"It's definitely something," he says. "I'm just not sure what." I recognize this expression on his face, but I still don't understand it. He looked at me the same way before he kissed me that first time.

He stares straight ahead at the road for a bit, and I can't tell if he's finished with this conversation or how he's feeling about anything. "I hate to tell you, but I don't have any big, dramatic answer to your question, no traumatic breakup that left me unable to love again. I come from a loving home, no fear of commitment here."

"Oh, jeez, that's awful," I tease.

He grins at my attempt to lighten the mood, then continues. "My parents were happily married, young and long, before my dad became ill and passed on."

"Aww, I'm sorry, Edward."

"Best I can tell you is I used to travel constantly, back when I was freelancing, and I never really had enough time to get attached to anyone." He shakes his head and huffs. "You may have noticed I like to take my time and get to know someone before… well, before taking a girl away for the weekend."

His right cheek pinks up, probably the other side too, but I can't see it.

"At the age of 35, when I finally figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up, I threw myself into learning as much as I could. It was more than the technical skills—how to shoot in the dark, how to edit the photos without editing content, yada, yada—I had to learn how to talk to my clients."

"Wow, all of that seems so natural for you."

"I've been doing this almost a decade now. I love what I do and I wouldn't trade my career for anything, but it takes a lot out of me, emotionally. I hope this won't cast me in an unfavorable light, Bella, but the truth is, I just can't afford a personal relationship that is going to be a constant drain on those resources. Does that make me a terrible person?"

He almost flinches as he awaits my response. "Of course not."

"I hope you're not sitting over there worrying you can't lean on me. That's not what I mean at all. I want you to need me, but I want it to be okay that I need you, too."

"Me?"

"Yes. Absolutely. Without even trying, you replenish what the world takes. You have a lightness about you; just soaking it in for a few minutes makes me feel whole again."

I shift in my seat to face him. "Isn't that kind of the point of being in a relationship?"

"I always wanted to think so, but every relationship I've had up till now has felt like work—not that I minded, exactly. I've always believed in working hard for what I want, and I acknowledge there has been a certain amount of character building along the way."

"Yes, you have a superbly built character. Good job, whoever did that for me."

He chuckles darkly. "I have to own up to falling for a certain kind of girl…"

"The kind of girl you can—"

"Save?" he says quietly, sparing me from finishing my own sentence. "Yeah, I guess it's sort of an ego thing."

"We all want to feel needed, Edward. It doesn't make you an egomaniac." I want to hug him, but he's locked into the driver's seat and I'm all the way over here on the other side of the car. "I'd hate it if you felt like being with me was work."

"It isn't," he says, "not even a little. You're so easy to be with and comfortable in your own skin, it's effortless being with you. I feel like I'm cheating the system somehow. Like… I'm eating dessert before my meal."

"Well, we both know how much you love your dessert."

"That I do." There's the dimple I've been waiting for. He turns his attention from the road, nearly whispering what seems to be a perplexing problem for him. "God, Bella, you are so, so beautiful."

If there's one thing Edward worships more than dessert, it's beauty. He can't even chop a damn cucumber without creating a work of art.

"Edward, I'm only beautiful because you see me that way. I don't want to be another image you've captured with your lens or some picture to hang on your wall. I'm real, and you make me happy, and this doesn't have to be work to be good. I promise. It's okay to eat dessert. Please, eat the damn dessert."

I was right about not making it to the Golden Gate, but it was Edward who did the pouncing.

###


Author's Note: Aww, he doesn't feel like an asshole when he's with her. Was there ever a truer declaration of LOVE, I ask you? So, yeah, no skeletons in this guy's closet. He just needed to give himself permission to like the girl who made his soul happy. Edward "Old School" Cullen, by the powers vested in me as your author, I hereby grant you permission to fall for this Bella! Let the pouncing commence!

I'm starting to get the hang of teasers, so if you're not in the patch and you like to be teased, come find us on Facebook in Born's Pumpkin Patch!
XXX ~BOH