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Almost anything. If she wants love… No, I can't give her that.
Erica slides a forkful of pancake into her mouth. Whipped cream sticks to her lips, and maple syrup dribbles down her chin, but her lips curve into a sweet smile of appreciation. Her eyes are half-closed too as if the taste of pancakes is pure ecstasy.
To me, they just taste like pancakes. Good, but not ecstasy-inducing.
Her smile evaporates. She picks up a strip of bacon and pulverizes it between her fingers. Her eyes shimmer, like she's about to cry, but she doesn't. She squeezes her eyes shut.
"All right?" I ask, caressing her cheek with one finger.
"Fine." She affects a smile, but it's not convincing. "Dust in my eye."
Like hell it's dust. She's sad, and I'm certain the blame lies squarely with me. Aye, that scunner Presley has upset her, but she wouldn't cry this morning because of his ridiculous antics.
In seven days, I will fly home—and never see Erica again.
She knows that. Would she cry because I'm leaving? I haven't given her a reason to care that much about me, though I care for her more than I should.
We have seven more days together. That's it.
She skims her palm down my cheek, her expression full of emotions I don't dare examine too closely.
I sigh, staking a slab of pancake from our joint plate, balanced on my knee. Erica sits right beside me, her body leaning against mine. I love being this close to her. I love being with her, full stop. As I shove the pancake bite into my mouth, I wonder if I should stay longer to have more time with Erica. Why? I'll need to go home eventually, and extending my holiday would only make it more difficult to leave her.
Erica scoops up a bloody great chunk of pancake and stuffs it into her mouth.
Something is fashing her, but I doubt she would tell me what it is if I asked. Or that might be an excuse for me not to ask, so I won't find out I'm the problem.Act like a man, ye damn eejit.
I wipe syrup from her chin with my thumb. "You've gone serious all of a sudden."
"Have I?"
"Don't pretend you've no idea what I'm talking about." I lean in and try not to notice how good she smells or how much I want to hold her. "I can see the cloud over your head. It's grey and heavy with rain about to pour onto you." I twist my mouth into a crooked smirk. "I like you wet, not drowned."
"There's no cloud. I was thinking, that's all."
"About what?"
She slouches into the sofa, avoiding my gaze. "You'll be gone in a week. There must be things you'd like to do before you go."
"Besides you?"
She nudges me with her elbow. "Yes, besides me."
"Yes." I set our plate on the coffee table. "I would like to experience this country a bit more. And I've got an idea of how to do that."
"What kind of idea?"
I glance at her sideways. "You probably won't like it."
She folds her arms over her breasts. "Tell me."
My plan occurred to me only a few seconds ago, right after she said there must be things I'd like to do before I go home. Maybe I'm experiencing a slight need to spend as much time with her as I can over the next seven days. All right, it's more than slight. I need more time with her like I need to breathe, and a week won't be enough. A lifetime wouldn't be enough.
I scrub a hand over my face, then fix my gaze on her. "I want you to take a trip with me, to drive around as much of the country as we can in the time I've got left."
"You make it sound like you're dying."
"I'm not dying." I settle a hand on her thigh. "Will you come with me, Erica?"
