by Hart, Emma
Sidenote: showing up in short-shorts totally worked.
All that said, relief flooded through me when Brantley began to eat in silence. I followed suit, digging into the delicious, creamy, cheesy pasta dish in front of me.
Amazing. He burned pasta, yet cooked the sauce.
My mind boggled.
The minutes ticked by. Had Jayda been right? Was it just company he wanted? If so… I mean, this was better than anything I had the patience to cook. I’d be his dinner friend any day if he’d feed me like this.
I was almost done eating when he put down his fork and sipped at his wine.
“I’m sorry if I made things awkward when I kissed you yesterday.”
Chapter Seventeen
I almost choked on my food. I grabbed my wine and washed it down, thankfully without giving into the urge to spit it everywhere.
That came out of nowhere.
“I’m sorry if I made it awkward apologizing for making it awkward,” he added, lips twitching as he gazed over at me.
“Nope. You’re good. Just surprised me, that’s all.” I took another mouthful of wine, swilling it around before I swallowed it. “Not awkward. I mean, a little, but mostly because it’s against the rules. No company-client relations. You know?”
He nodded. “Like I said, I’m sorry. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. It won’t happen again.”
Oh.
Why did that suck?
Goddamn it, it didn’t suck. That was absolutely the right choice. It couldn’t happen again. No way.
“Right. Of course. You know you didn’t have to invite me for dinner just to say that, right?”
“I know. It happened to work in my favor. I’ll never get the hang of cooking the right amount of pasta.” He frowned. “I don’t know how people do it.”
“My mom is one of those weirdos. Like, she just knows how much pasta to cook. I generally cook enough for a small army.”
Brantley waved his hand. “Speak for yourself. I think I have enough for lunch tomorrow, too.”
I laughed, resting my forearm on the table. I nudged my plate aside so I had room to cup my wine glass in front of me. “Just let the twins eat it.”
“They’re at daycare tomorrow. Do you have any idea how amazing it’ll be to have a day to myself?”
“Really? You mean I can paint without chaos?”
His smile reached his eyes. “You can paint without chaos,” he confirmed. “I might bug you if I get bored, but I promise not to screw up the walls.”
“If you come and bug me, I’ll be handing you a roller and telling you to start painting.”
“I can do that.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “After I’ve been to the store and had my ankles ripped to shreds.”
“I don’t know why we still shop there. There’s a Target half an hour away.”
“That’s the problem. Target is half an hour away. Irma’s is five minutes for anyone in town.”
Sighing, I propped my chin up on my hand. “And you won’t get the local gossip at Target.”
“Small towns,” he muttered. “So in each other’s business.”
I nodded. “Everyone will assume we’re dating tomorrow. Just so you know.”
His eyebrows shot up, and he stood, grabbing both our plates. “That’s a bit of a jump, isn’t it?”
“Not really. They’re simply putting two and two together and getting five, as they generally do. It’s not much of a jump when you consider that I’m single and you’re single and hot.”
He glanced over his shoulder at me, amusement curling his lips.
“I…Um…I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud,” I said slowly.
Crap.
“You think I’m hot,” he said. He didn’t ask, he just said it.
“I, well, I, er…”
He quirked a brow at me.
I took a deep breath. “Yes. You don’t?”
“I have to admit I’ve never really looked at myself that way.” His restrained laughter made his shoulders shake. “I’ll consider it next time I look in the mirror.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic about it.” I finished my wine and got up. The chair squeaked against the floor. “And now I’m the one who’s made it awkward, soooo, I think I’m going to make like a banana and split.” I put the wine glass on the side by the sink and turned. “Thank you for dinner. It was great. Let’s pretend this conversation never happened.”
He stood in front of me, blocking my way. His biceps clenched with how he had his arms folded across his chest, and the white material of his t-shirt stretched over his shoulders in a way that was more than a little distracting.
But it was his eyes that made me stop. The way a darkness that hinted at desire tickled the edges of his gaze. The way they shone bright with laughter at the same time they revealed how he was feeling in that very second.
I swallowed.
“We could pretend it never happened,” he said in a low voice. “Or we could just admit that we’re attracted to each other and deal with it from there.”
“I don’t—I mean, I’m not… Attracted to you,” I finished stupidly.
“You mean you’re not very good at lying.”
“Yeah. That, too.”
He dropped his arms and approached me. I backed up until my back hit the edge of the counter.
Shit. Idiot. Now, you’re trapped.
I gripped the edge of the marble counter and took a deep breath.
He stood in front of me, towering over me by a few inches, and rested his hands either side of my body. His thumbs brushed my pinky fingers, settling where I could just feel the tickle of them through the air.
“Deal with it,” I echoed, my mouth dry. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
He glanced at my mouth.
Dear god, how was he able to answer my question without speaking?
“Okay, but, um, here’s the thing.” I couldn’t breathe. I sounded like a panting idiot trying to get the words out between each short, sharp breath I took. “This,” I motioned between us, “is bad.”
“Bad.” His lips tugged to the side.
“Yes. Because,”—help. Someone help—“because this isn’t allowed. Company rules. No cavorting with clients.”
“No cavorting with clients.” That half-smile turned into a full-blown grin. “That’s very…proper.”
“Well, I can’t exactly put, “No fucking the clients” now, can I?”
“You could have, but it would have been unfortunately precise.”
“I should change that.”
“I disagree.”
I licked my lips. “You should agree. Because this is—”
“Bad. You said.” More lip twitching.
“I thought you were sorry you made it awkward by kissing me.”
“That was before I found out you were attracted to me. Now, I’m a lot less sorry I kissed you.”
Oh. Well. Fair enough.
“Should I take back my acceptance of your apology?” I asked.
“You should stop talking and see how you feel when I’ve kissed you again.”
“Kissed me—”
He silenced me with his lips on mine. A huge shiver wracked my body, and he smiled against my mouth, hands slowly sliding up my arms. He grazed his teeth over my lower lip as he pulled away, and my heart pounded against my chest.
There was only a breath of air between our lips. I could taste him, and although I knew I’d hate myself, I couldn’t help it.
I placed my hands either side of his neck and kissed him right back. Firmly. I kissed him the way he had me the night before, with force and unfightable desire. As he wound one hand into my hair, I pushed up on tiptoes, my ass now digging into the edge of the counter as he leaned against me.
My head spun. It felt so fucking good, probably because I knew it was wrong. But, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop my heart from pounding or my body from reacting to him the way it was. The skin tingles, the ch
est tightening, the lust that pooled between my legs and made my clit ache…
None of it.
It was out of control, and all because of him.
His body was hard against mine—and so was his cock. It pressed, fighting against the confines of his jeans, against my lower stomach. This only turned me on more, sent more desire running at a fast pace through my blood.
I wanted him to fuck me right here, right now, up against the kitchen counter, and I no longer fucking cared about it.
I just wanted more—more touching, more kissing, more of him.
His lips moved over mine so smoothly. His fingers toyed with my hair just enough that tiny stings radiated over my scalp, and his tongue fought with mine as the kiss got deeper and deeper.
Rougher. More desperate. More—
The floorboards above us creaked.
I pulled back with a half-gasp and looked at the ceiling.
Brantley stayed where he was, perfectly still, until there was another creak. It was followed by the sound of hollow footsteps on the top stairs.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, briefly pressing his forehead against mine. With a deep breath, he released me and pushed away. I dropped my eyes to his crotch where his erection was completely visible, and he adjusted his jeans in an effort to hide it.
I buried my face in my hands. I’d done that a lot lately, but I could feel the tingles across my lips as the heels of my hands pressed against them.
Brantley’s voice was muffled at the bottom of the stairs, and I heard the distinct, sleepy tone of Eli muttering something in response. There was a shuffle, then the sound of the stairs creaking as they went upstairs.
I dropped my hands and blew out a long breath. There was no denying that this time, I’d been the one who’d crossed the line. I could have said no, kept up denial, but I didn’t. I’d given in, and, one again, been saved by one of the twins.
Who knows what would have happened if Eli hadn’t woken up just now?
I wouldn’t have stopped. That much I did know.
I had nothing with me but my car keys which were still in the pocket of my sweater. I patted it just to make sure, and they answered with a reassuring jingle.
The urge to leave overcame me, but it wouldn’t solve anything. It would just put off another conversation about the fact we’d kissed.
A conversation that had, ultimately, led to us kissing again.
That and the fact me and my big mouth had let slip that I think he’s hot.
Really, I only had myself to blame. I was such an idiot.
My mouth was dry. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it using the dispenser from the fridge. I drank it in one, the coolness of the water soothing as it slid down my through.
Setting it by the side of the sink next to my empty wine glass, I took yet another deep breath, except this one was a steeling one. One that straightened my spine and grew me a pair of balls for the conversation I was about to have.
Brantley stood in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes ran up and down my body, and though I shouldn’t have, I glanced at his crotch again.
Yep. Still noticeable.
I looked back up and met his eyes. He had one eyebrow cocked in amusement, and I bit the inside of my cheek so I didn’t justify the fact I’d just blatantly looked at his erection.
I mean…there was no justifying it, was there? Not really. I wasn’t going to apologize or anything.
“I half-expected you to be running out the door,” he commented.
“I decided to be an adult about it tonight,” I replied, fidgeting with my zipper.
“Is that why you can’t stand still like a toddler?”
“Pretty much.”
He laughed and pushed off the doorframe, dropping his arms to his sides. “Are you still here so we don’t have another awkward conversation with semi-sincere apologies tomorrow?
That was about right, yeah. “Basically.”
“Don’t worry, Kali. I didn’t intend to apologize again. You certainly don’t seem to want one.”
I opened my mouth, then paused. He was right. I didn’t want one. He didn’t need to apologize. “You don’t have to apologize again,” I said quietly. “But, this is against my company rules. I can’t get involved in any way with clients. So, this…” I waved my hand between us. “No matter how attracted we might be to each other, it can’t happen again. Okay?”
He leaned back against the counter, once again folding his arms. “Okay.”
“Okay? You’re…okay?” I blinked at him.
“What else do you want me to say? No, I insist you continue to break your rules?” He smirked. “I’m sorry I made you break a rule you obviously stand by…Most of the time.”
“Uh, all of the time, except for yesterday. And just now.” And probably the next time he decided to kiss me.
“Of course.” The smirk didn’t leave his face. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
This conversation had done a one-eighty.
I decided to take it and run with it. “Tomorrow. Right. Bye.” I slipped past him, but he shot an arm out, stopping me.
His eyes searched mine, almost as if he were asking permission to say what he wanted to next. Something I didn’t know if I’d like when it left his mouth.
“I’m not sorry I kissed you, Kali. And I won’t apologize for the fact I want you.”
Boom. Boom. Boom. My pulse echoed in my ears, and I knew then, staying was a mistake. I should have gone when he was upstairs.
Because those words changed a lot.
I said nothing as he released my arm. I held his gaze for a moment too long—a moment that said he wasn’t lying about wanting me—and left.
And as I got in my truck and drove home, as I pulled up in my drive and let myself into my house…As I locked the door and ran upstairs to my bedroom and slumped onto the end of my bed, his words echoed around my mind.
I want you.
Chapter Eighteen
Jayda: You have got to learn to keep your tongue in your own mouth.
Me: You’re the one who made me have dinner with him.
Jayda: I didn’t make you do anything. I dangled a guilt bait in front of you and you took it.
Jayda: Besides, I didn’t make you shove your tongue down his throat, did I?
Me: It just happened.
Jayda: You know what just happens, Kali? Dropping a glass. Kicking the remote off your table. Forgetting about the peppers in the bottom drawer of your fridge. Those things just happen. Kissing someone does not just happen.
Seriously. You forget about peppers one time. One. Time. And you’re victimized over it for years. Pfft.
Me: It does just happen and it did just happen. Now I have to paint his house all day when his kids are at daycare.
Jayda: Kiss him again and finish the job when you won’t be interrupted.
Me: Against company rules!
Jayda: …Which you’ve done a stellar job of following so far.
Me: Fuck off.
Jayda: Get fucked.
Jayda: No, literally. Literally get fucked.
Me: We’re done here.
***
While I didn’t disagree with Jayda’s recommendation of getting fucked, it was inappropriate. We’d already crossed that line, but I wasn’t sure crossing it even further was a wise thing to do.
For now, I was going to focus on my job. Nothing else but my job. That was my plan, and I was going to stick with it, no matter how hard it seemed at times.
After a quick call with my dad to check on the progress of the kids’ beds, I got stuck in to painting. I’d called Eric and had him delay the floors by another twenty-four hours. It was annoying, and he hadn’t sounded too impressed.
Until I’d explained why.
Then he’d laughed for a good five minutes before telling me he’d waive the extra delivery fee.
Gee, thanks, friend.
I told him if he really wanted to make
it better, to get his ass over here and paint. Naturally, he refused, so here I was, by myself, painting.
In silence.
It was, actually, quite nice. Aside from the first few days, I hadn’t been in the house alone to get work done. There had always been the undercurrent of noise from the kids downstairs—if they weren’t up here.
In an odd way, though, I missed that same noise. It was almost eerie to be alone in the empty house, so I set my phone on the windowsill in Eli’s room and opened Spotify. The quiet hum of music made it a little easier to cope with.
I painted and painted and painted, going over and over the spots that had been…affected…yesterday. That was the nicest way I could put it in my mind.
While the white paint dried on those bits in Eli’s room, I washed my hands and, with my phone between my teeth, moved into Ellie’s. Her paint had dried evenly—more so than I’d thought it would—so I knew that with one more coat, her walls would be done.
I pulled my phone from my mouth and texted Eric quickly to confirm he could get the flooring in at least Ellie’s room tomorrow. Without hanging around for his response, I cracked open a paint can using a screwdriver and poured it into a tray.
I would be glad to see the end of this pink paint.
Shamelessly, I sang along to Justin Bieber as I painted. It cycled through my favorite, big playlist on shuffle, taking me from the country twangs of Luke Bryan to the latest Maroon 5.
I hummed along, not knowing the words, until it flipped over to Sam Hunt. Trading my roller for a paintbrush, I dipped it in the paint and sang along to Body Like a Back Road. Between dips, the paintbrush acted as my microphone.
Oh my god, I’d never had so much fun painting in my life.
I stood, wiped paint from the brush, and continued my personal concert. The music flipped over from Sam to Demi Lovato’s Instruction, and, well, I got into it a little too much.
The brush was my mic; the window my adoring fans. I slid left and right and back just like the song demanded. My braid swung around my shoulders as I danced.
