I Never Planned on You

by Stefanie Jenkins

  He seems to relax now that he knows his comment doesn’t bother me. I mean, one might think that would bother me but for some reason coming from him, it doesn’t.

  Lauren backs her chair up. “Excuse me, I need to use the ladies’ room.”

  Kate scoots her chair back as well and rises along with her sister.

  Kyler turns to his sisters. “What, you two can’t go to the bathroom alone?”

  Kate laughs. “Of course we can. I just thought you two would like some time alone—that’s all.” She winks and walks away to catch up with her sister. They lace their arms together and look back at the table. They are clearly up to something.

  I take a sip of my water as the restaurant suddenly feels hotter.

  “Look, I’m sorry about my sisters and their…”

  “Directness? Abrasiveness? Lack of a filter?”

  “Ha. Well, those are the polite ways to put it. I was going to say asshole behavior.”

  I sigh. Does it bother him? Does he think it bothers me? “Oh, they’re fine, Ky. They’re just looking out for their little brother. It’s sweet.”

  “It’s not sweet.” He chuckles. “They just love giving me a hard time. Been doing it since I was a kid.”

  “Your mom must be a saint for dealing with the three of you.”

  He smiles. I know that he cares about his mom a lot, and I’ve learned they have a weekly call every week to catch up—that’s sweet.

  “You have no idea.”

  “You do remember who my brother is, right? We’re only eleven months apart. I have a little idea as to what growing up in craziness is like.”

  “Touché.” Kyler grips the back of his neck and I watch his bicep flex. “In all seriousness though, my mom seriously deserves a gold medal. I couldn’t even imagine raising twins.”

  “And throw you into the mix, that poor lady.”

  He clutches his chest. “Your words hurt.”

  “Aww, poor baby, do you need a shoulder to cry on?” I push my shoulder in his direction. We both laugh at the comfortableness surrounding our conversation. I feel like I could talk to him about anything, even topics I’m not sure I would feel comfortable opening up to Haylee or Zach about.

  He raises his glass in my direction. “To being the baby of the family and blaming everything on the older siblings.”

  “Now that I will cheers to for sure.” We clink our glasses together. As I bring the wineglass down, I briefly look up, locking eyes with Kyler. My cheeks heat at the attention and the look in his eyes. I swallow deep. I realize our thighs are again brushing against each other. Our eyes stay locked, and my breath quickens. What is happening here?

  A loud noise of a chair scraping the floor interrupts us, indicating his sisters have returned, and we both turn away from each other.

  Kate smirks as she takes a sip of her drink. “Did we miss anything interesting?”

  K yler walks into the kitchen to find me gathering the ingredients I need to make cinnamon rolls to take to my parents’ house tomorrow. I typically wouldn’t make them the night before, but since we are leaving early, I wanted to get them done now instead of waking up even earlier in the morning. Part of me wants to fake sick and back out, but I know I owe it to my parents after all this time to visit. I’ve been here two months already, and I know they know that I’m here thanks to my brother’s big mouth.

  I am quite shocked they haven’t stopped by yet, but they are probably just as worried as Zach that I will get spooked and take off again. I’m not sure who I am more nervous to see, my parents or the Hankses. It has been great rekindling my friendship with Haylee again these past few weeks, but I have kept away long enough. Talking with Haylee has helped a little, but I need to work on getting myself back to “me” and stop shutting everyone out. Of course, it’s a lot easier said than done.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, so I know that he is staring at me without even turning around. That is another friendship I am oddly happy about its progression. I didn’t really want to feel like the third wheel around Zach and Haylee, so I have declined most of their offers of going out with them some nights.

  What started out as a random occurrence has turned into a regular thing of watching movies over the past month on the couch with Kyler. We couldn’t have more opposite tastes in movies, but we came to a compromise and alternate who gets to pick what we watch. That way we both are equal to suffering through the other’s choices, although, I will admit to myself but not to him that I have enjoyed almost all the movies he has picked—all except No Country for Old Men because who the hell in their right mind would enjoy that movie. I have enjoyed getting to know him. He’s a good fit for my brother; I can see why they became such good friends quickly.

  “Can I help you make whatever you’re going to make?” Kyler asks from behind me where he is sitting at the island.

  “Ummm…I guess. Sure,” I say, turning around and arching my eyebrow at him. “You don’t have anything better to do on a Saturday night? I find that hard to believe.”

  With a smug smirk on his face, he plops his chin on top of his fists. “Nope, I’m all yours.”

  A weird feeling instantly comes over me. Are we still talking about baking? I would say yes if it wasn’t for the way he was looking at me. It was as if he’s looking right through me. We shared a similar look the other night at dinner with his sisters. If they had not interrupted us, would he have kissed me? Did I want him to? I’m not sure whether I should grab my stuff and run away, or maybe even worse, run toward him. Who the hell is this man who keeps creeping into my world one moment at a time?

  I’m so lost in my internal argument that I don’t realize Kyler has since moved from his spot at the island to right behind me. “Earth to Dani!” I jump back at his proximity and end up backing right into him, my back to his front. He places his hands on my shoulders to steady me.

  “Whoa there, killer, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says with a laugh. “I feel like I’m always scaring you.” If only he knew it wasn’t just physically that he scared me, but the feelings that I start to feel at times when I am around him scare me more. I’ve never felt this way about anyone that wasn’t Emmett and am charting new territory. “I was just talking to you about what you were going to make, and you were lost in your own world, so I just wanted to bring you back to me.”

  “Oh sorry, I was…” Trying to come up with any excuse that’s not I was thinking about you and things I wouldn’t mind you doing to me, but instead I come up with “I was going over all the ingredients in my head to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.”

  He nods, whether or not he buys my reasoning. He steps back so that I can take the ingredients to the island.

  “So, you really want to help me?” I ask him, still feeling as though he’s just messing with me.

  “Well, yeah, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” he responds with a crooked smile. I can sense that Kyler is a little nervous as he takes in all the ingredients I have set out. I feel as though he may back out—in fact I am kind of hoping for it. I’m not sure I can handle him this close to me at the moment.

  With a deep breath, he turns to me. “Okay, make me your bitch. Let’s do this!”

  I laugh. Well, here goes nothing. “Okay, well, first of all, we are going to make cinnamon rolls to take tomorrow to my parents’ house.”

  “You’re finally going?”

  “I’m finally going. I can’t keep putting it off.”

  “That’s good. I’m proud of you. To be honest, I’m surprised your mom hasn’t knocked down the door yet.”

  “I know.” I snicker. “That is more her style. Do you maybe want to come with us?”

  The expression on his face masks my own shock. Did I seriously just ask him that? I pull my lip between my teeth while I nervously await his answer. He must be able to sense my hesitation, because he places his hand on my wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to intru
de on this family moment.” He hasn’t removed his hand from my wrist and is now rubbing circles along my skin with his thumb.

  “No, I would like that. I could use all the support I can get.” I half smile. “And you can let everyone know you made these.”

  He lets out a hearty laugh and removes his hand, and I miss his touch. “Yeah, well, only if they’re good. If they taste like shit, then they’re all on you, sweetheart.”

  I tense at his endearment, but for some odd reason it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it causes a weird feeling in my stomach, almost like butterflies. I reach for my apron, a Christmas present that Emmett had given me one year that reads “Lick my Frosting.” Needless to say I was so mortified opening that in front of our families knowing the double meaning. He went an entire week without getting any—okay, so really just three days, but it felt like a week.

  I turn my back to Ky. “Do you mind tying this for me?” He complies and swats my butt when he is done, causing me to jump. I sure wasn’t expecting that. I feel a blush creep on my cheeks and completely lose my train of thought. Fuck. I look over my shoulder at him, and Ky is grinning ear to ear. My eyes meet his before looking down at his mouth.

  I clear my throat and clap my hands together. “Okay, let’s get started.”

  While I dissolve the yeast in warm water and set the bowl to the side on the counter, Kyler finds a playlist on Spotify and turns the music on. I smile because Mom always had oldies music playing in the kitchen when we would bake together. Dad would swoop her in his arms and spin her around the kitchen. She would swat at him, getting flour all over him, but he never stopped, and she would eventually give up the fight and embrace their dancing together.

  Per my instruction, Kyler mixes milk, melted butter, salt, sugar, and an egg.

  “Okay, now add the flour but do it slo—” Before I can finish my sentence, he has added some a little too quickly and it poofs up in a smoke ball. Flour covers us, and I let out a loud giggle.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Ky says as he joins in my laughter. I shrug, still laughing.

  “Okay, now add the rest slow-ly.” I make sure to enunciate the slowly part. Without looking at me, he flips his middle finger at me. I try to hide my smile because he’s really trying to focus on this. His eyes narrow and wrinkles form on his forehead from his concentration. I then add the yeast mixture and the rest of the flour.

  “What got you into baking? You just look so peaceful in your element. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so calm before.”

  I smirk to the side as I continue to monitor the mixing bowl, making sure all ingredients are mixed perfectly. “Emme…” I pause, not wanting to bring Em up with Ky—why I want to hold back, I’m not sure. “Haylee’s mom got me into it. She was the best baker and cook I knew. I just always found comfort in the kitchen. Some people feel at peace on the field or in a dance studio; for me it’s the kitchen.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I take a handful of flour and spread it over the counter and look over to Kyler, who has a seriously confused look on his face. I smile. “Now we have to knead the dough. It’s going to get a bit messy.”

  Looking down at his T-shirt, he raises his eyebrows at me while I press my lips together in an attempt to hold back my laughter. “Okay, so this time we are going to be doing it on purpose.” He sticks his tongue out at me, and I laugh. I carefully take the dough out of the bowl and place it on the floured surface. I tilt my head for him to walk closer to me. “You’re going to do this part.” He hesitantly touches the dough and makes a face like he is turned off by it.

  “Oh my God, quit being a baby about it. Just go for it.”

  He places his hands on the dough and attempts to knead the dough, and I cringe at how awful he is doing it. I remember my first time; my mother told me I was a natural. Kyler, not so much. He looks very uncomfortable.

  He notices my furrowed brow. “I’m completely fucking this up, aren’t I?”

  I smile back at him, knowing he is trying his hardest. For some reason he really wants to be successful at this and not mess it up, maybe so he can actually take credit for these. Hell, if they turn out, I will gladly give him credit. Whenever Zach or Emmett tried to help, I ended up having to redo the recipe. They were better at eating the outcome than trying to help bake it.

  I nudge him out of my way with my hip, coat my hands with a light dusting of flour, and start to knead the dough. “See how I’m doing it? It’s an art, not just punching it into oblivion.”

  “Ready to try?” I go to move out of the way, but Kyler has blocked me in. With his front to my back, I close my eyes and relish in the feeling of his body up against mine. I can feel the ripple of each muscle up against my back and am now remembering him the day we met when he wasn’t wearing a shirt. My breathing hitches and I inhale his cologne. God he smells good. He slides his hands down my arms, leaving goose bumps in their wake. He squeezes my hands before coating his own with a little more flour.

  I swallow, trying to refocus. Is he aware of what he is doing right now? Of course he is. Was this part of his plan? Must. Focus. On. Baking. Kyler threads his fingers through mine and begins to knead the dough as I had shown him just now. I should release my fingers and back away, but I haven’t. My breathing is becoming shallow. The feeling of having him close has sent all sorts of feelings to my core. I bite my lip before I say or do anything I might regret. Do I make him as nervous as he does me?

  Anxiety and nervousness run through my veins along with a little excitement. Only a few more minutes of kneading the dough before we set it aside to rise and I get some much-needed space from Kyler.

  I am so close to her right now I can smell her vanilla shampoo, and I have no shame to say I inhaled it to commit that scent to memory. It’s one thing to smell it from the bottle in the shower, but to actually smell it on her is heavenly. My thoughts are all over the place, causing my heart to race. I take notice that hers is too. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the effect I’m having on her. I wish she saw how fucking beautiful she is. I really hope that she doesn’t think I planned this all when I asked to help her, but now that I am so close to her, I don’t want to back away. I may scare her away entirely.

  “Am I doing this right?”

  She doesn’t speak, just goes, “Mmmm.”

  I take notice her hands fit perfectly in mine. This is definitely crossing that invisible line between friends and something more that we have been playing with lately. The long glances, the innocent touches, and the dirty thoughts — at least on my end — have all brought us here. I tighten my grip on her hands as we knead the dough together, and a small moan escapes the back of her throat. Now my mind goes there—would she make that same noise if she were underneath me, squirming and screaming my name with pleasure? I wonder what she would taste like—sweet, I’m sure. When I saw her put that apron on, all I could think of was “Yes, I want to lick your frosting.”

  My best friend would kill me if he knew I was having these thoughts about his sister. What the fuck is wrong with me? We have a moment, and as quickly as that moment happens, it’s gone as she quickly straightens up and steps away from me, clearing her throat.

  I quietly adjust my pants when she has her back toward me, placing the dough ball in a bowl and covering it. “Now what do we do?”

  She turns around with flushed cheeks. Was she thinking what I was thinking? How easily I could step up to her, lace my fingers in her hair, and kiss her. I have a feeling, though, that one kiss just wouldn’t be enough.

  Dani closes her eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath. When she opens them and her eyes meet mine again, she looks as though she is having some sort of internal conversation with herself. I didn’t misread the signs of her flirting, right?

  She turns her back to me and begins to clean the mixing bowl. “Well, we have to let that rise, and that can take about an hour, so I was just going to clean this up to prepare the icing and then sit and read on my Kindle. You can
go do whatever, and I can let you know when it’s ready, or I can just finish. I’m sure you have other things to do.”

  I step up to her by the sink. “No, you have my attention and help, so I’m gonna finish it.”

  I’m suddenly nervous to be invading her personal space again and look down at my feet. “Can I get you a drink? Maybe we can sit and talk? Would that be okay?”

  Dani continues to wash the bowl, then sets it on the drying rack and dries her hands on her apron. She bites her lip, and that goes straight to my dick again. “Yeah, sure.”

  I walk over to the fridge and grab two beers and meet her in the living room. She says thank you as I hand her the beer. Our fingers brush lightly as she takes it from my hand, and suddenly my mouth is very dry. I quickly take a big swig of beer before sitting down. I see she is picking at the label on her beer. Must be a Jacobs thing; I’ve seen Zach do it on more than one occasion.

  She takes a sip and winces. “Are you not a fan of beer?” I ask.

  “No, this is fine. I just prefer wine or tequila.”

  “Oh shit. Sorry, I can go get you a glass of wine instead.” I place my beer on the coffee table and go to rise to replace her drink with something she actually likes. She grabs my arm, her fingers barely reaching all the way around my bicep, and uses such a force that she pulls me back to the couch.

  “You don’t have to do that. This is fine.”

  I nod. I make a mental note that when I need a refill, I will grab her a glass. “Want to play a game?” I ask her.

  She has a confused look on her face. “Ummmm, what kind of game?” she asks nervously.

  Why did I suggest a game? What are we, twelve? I just want to spend time with her and get to know her better. I want to know everything, the little things, the big things, what makes this girl tick. I want to know it all.

  Thinking, I suggest, “Well, we could play Twenty Questions or Never Have I Ever?”

  “Can you play Never Have I Ever with just two people?”

  “Sure, why not?”