Felt like he was trying to make things as simple for me as he could—because God knew I was the one who had no clue what the fuck he was doing—the same as when he waved his hand in the air, indicating for me to follow.
I glanced around, quick to take in their home.
The front door opened to a small foyer that faced an arch that led to the living space, which was lined by crown molding.
An overstuffed couch covered in pillows and throws took up most of the room, two armchairs situated on either side, and a plush area rug covering the dark hardwood floors. All three pieces of furniture were angled so each seat had a good view of the television.
But none of that was the focus. No, because it was abundantly clear where all Hope’s attention was aimed.
Pictures of Evan as far as the eye could see. Every surface and wall. A mismatch of frames and sizes.
Organized like art.
Like praise.
Evan darted down a short hall to the right, and I tore myself away from the scene in front of me and followed.
My stride easy until I damned near tripped over my feet when he led me through a smaller arch and into the kitchen.
Because Hope was bent over, wearing that same lust-inducing dress she’d had on earlier at the shop. She was digging into a bottom cupboard, her perfect, round ass swaying from side to side.
That ass I wanted to sink my teeth into.
Mouthwatering.
Every bit as much as whatever that insanely delicious smell was that filled the air.
Hearty and thick and warm.
She jerked around when she heard us walk in behind her. Green eyes went wide in her own kind of shock, like even though she expected me, she was still unprepared.
And that unbridled connection I felt to her every time I was in her space . . .
It surged.
Free and fast.
Rushing across the floor before either of us had the chance to find our footing.
Invading and penetrating and capturing.
Attraction and need.
This insane desire that threatened to get the best of me.
But that wasn’t why I was here, so I tamped it down.
Clearing my throat, I pinned on an easy expression. That was the only way I was going to make it through this without having her on that counter, her legs around my waist, mouth devouring every inch of her.
“Hey, Shortcake.” I stretched out my arms, the sleeves of my button-up rolled up my forearms. “I’m here and at your disposal. Whatever fits your fancy. Don’t be shy. Use me up.”
For a few beats, she breathed deeply. Like she needed to find her axis the same way I just had to do.
Beating the attraction down.
Both of us coming to the same place. The reason I was there.
To give something back when these two so clearly gave and gave.
I watched as her shoulders relaxed and amusement fluttered across those plush, pink lips. “Watch yourself, Dr. Bryant. You call me Shortcake one more time, and I’ll have you out back mowing my lawn.”
“Is that a threat? Come on, tell me you can do better than that.”
She grabbed mitts and opened the top oven, because even though the girl’s house was modest, the kitchen was not.
Gourmet might have been an understatement.
She had one of those huge industrial refrigerators and a double oven to match. Everything white and country and oozing the same kind of charm that seeped from her pores.
She leaned over and pulled out a casserole dish.
Good God. I almost blacked out.
Lush red hair falling around one shoulder as she leaned down, back arching just a fraction, the profile of her face revealing that button nose and pouty lips and dimpled chin.
She glanced at me from over her shoulder. “Oh, Dr. Bryant, you are heading into dangerous territory . . .”
My eyes raked over her body. Didn’t I know it.
“I just might have a to-do list that is begging for attention. Considering I have no ‘Honey,’ it’s grown about fifteen miles long,” she teased, and I realized how much I liked it when she did.
When she felt comfortable enough to let go of a little of her worry when she was in my presence.
I flexed my arms. Satisfaction lined my insides when her attention went there, her breaths coming shorter and shorter. “Are you asking me to rescue you again, Shortcake? Bring it on, baby. Sir Bryant, remember? I’m obligated to do anything for my princess. And believe me, I won’t consider it a burden.”
Evan was suddenly right in my face, holding his pad up for me to see it, jarring me back into the reason I was there.
Which was absolutely not to flirt with his mom.
With all his stealth lip-reading, I could only pray the kid couldn’t pick up on innuendo, too.
He jabbed at the page with his forefinger, brows rising high.
Hey, I thought we were making lollipops?
Forcing myself to stop looking at his mother, I chuckled at the way Evan was staring up at me like he’d be all too happy to put me in my place.
This time, I didn’t even try to stop myself from ruffling my fingers through his hair.
Grabbing his notebook, I headed over to the island. He scrambled onto a stool right beside where I stood so he could read as I wrote.
Don’t worry, buddy. I am here to make lollipops.
Knew he could read my lips, but something about communicating with him this way made me feel like I was talking directly to him.
I looked up, made sure Evan wasn’t paying attention, and said, “But if your mom wants to put me to work after we’re finished, she totally can. I’m all hers.”
Fighting laughter, she narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m pretty sure these lollipops are going to keep you plenty busy. They are a lot more time-consuming than you can imagine. By the end of the night, you’ll be regretting agreeing to come help. Begging for someone to put you out of your misery.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I can go all night.”
Damn it all, I just couldn’t help myself. Not when it came to her. Not when I knew that redness would go flushing up her neck and splashing on her cheeks.
Sweet.
Heat.
“Awful sure of yourself, aren’t you, Dr. Bryant?” The words fell from her lips, throaty and low.
As she rounded the island, my attention swept from her legs, to the swish of her hips, and to the sway of her ass. She hiked up on her toes and grabbed three plates from a high cupboard.
“I’m one-hundred percent confident in myself, Ms. Masterson. I wasn’t granted knighthood without reason. And I believe we’ve already talked about my stamina.”
This time, she did laugh, shaking her head. “You are the cockiest man I’ve ever met.”
She glanced back at me. Playful and sexy and the best thing I’d ever seen.
This woman was a vision. The kind of face that hit me right in the gut. Because there was no question she was stunning.
But it was the sheer goodness radiating from underneath that absolutely made her glow.
“Don’t ever mistake confidence with arrogance. They are two very different things,” I told her. Tension throbbed, clinging to the air and rippling with unspoken things.
Like she was issuing a secret, saying she’d really like to experience what that might be like.
“Shall we get to work so I can prove it?” I asked, not even sure what I was asking anymore. Knowing I just kept getting myself deeper and deeper. But I didn’t know how to stop myself when I was around her.
She walked back to the island. Evan had his head down, scribbling something across the page. She set the plates on the counter and pressed her hands to either side of them, the swell of her tits just peaking over the neckline of her dress.
“Dinner first. You’re going to need your energy.”
Favorite food?
Reading his question, I pursed my lips in playful contemplation before I said, “Pizza.”
I made sure Evan, who was sitting next to me at the table, could see my lips clearly.
Favorite car?
“Uh . . . foreign or American?”
He studied me through his thick glasses, so damned cute I was having a hard time focusing on making the candy. Having a tougher and tougher time keeping it at bay, the affection for this kid that just kept growing and growing.
American.
“Well, that’s easy then. A 1968 Shelby Mustang.”
Whoa, he mouthed, nodding his agreement. Mine, too.
“Really . . . are you sure you’re not just trying to copy me?” I would have written it down, but I was wearing plastic gloves that were covered with melted sugar.
Across the table from us, Hope was over there, grinning this affected, sweet grin as she worked.
Her expression beneath the light pouring in from above shot straight through the center of me. The girl looked so damned happy while she listened to the interrogation Evan had been giving me for the last twenty minutes.
I’m not a copier!
He angled the pad of paper in my direction before widening his eyes and giving me a little shake of his head.
Like I already should have known.
I grinned at him. Of course, I did.
My expression must have assuaged him, because he was tapping the end of the marker on the pad, considering his next question.
Favorite ice cream?
“Strawberry.”
It was out without a thought, and my gaze immediately darted to Hope across the table.
Maybe just so I could catch the blush heating up on her cheeks.
Obviously, she knew exactly the direction my thoughts had gone spiraling.
To strawberries and cream and all things sweet.
The way I wanted to lick her up and down. Go back to that night when she’d been in the palm of my hands and my name had been a whimper on her tongue.
A curl of lust threatened, and I tamped it down, refusing to go down that path, yet somehow, feeling like going there was inevitable at the same time.
Evan’s hand flew across the page.
Are you my mom’s boyfriend?
Okay, then. Apparently, I wasn’t doing that bang-up of a job keeping my thoughts to myself.
I stopped what I was doing and shucked off the gloves, eyeing him as I grabbed the pad.
Why would you say that?
His answer was swift and honest.
Because when you look at her, you smile like you think she’s pretty.
Damn, this kid saw things in a way unlike no other kid I’d ever met.
Keen and smart and discerning.
I hesitated for only a second before I wrote out my response.
That’s because she is pretty.
Evan was grinning when he looked over at her before scratching something on the pad.
My mom is the prettiest mom in the whole world.
“What are you two over there gossiping about?” Hope asked, leaning farther over the table so she could sneak a peek at our private conversation.
That subtle blush blossomed when she saw the truth of what her son and I had been discussing.
“Oh, you two stop it. Every eight-year-old boy thinks his mama is the prettiest in the world until he gets to be a teenager, and then he decides to pretend like she doesn’t even exist.” It was all a gentle chiding.
NO WAY, he signed. MY FAVORITE was as close as I could get to figuring what he’d said.
Which made perfect sense, considering her smile turned so damned soft I felt something inside me melt just looking at the two of them.
MY HEART. That I got, without question, Evan’s little lips moving as he looked at his mother, his little hand fisted over his chest.
Hope gestured the same, touching her chest, her gaze adoring.
My insides clenched almost painfully. Something that beautiful was hard to take in. The bond they shared. How was it possible I was goddamned terrified of it and drawn to it at the same time?
Evan looked back at me before he scribbled quickly.
Is she?
Was it regret I felt when I took back the marker and started to write?
No, Evan. We’re just friends.
Another pass of the marker.
Are you my friend?
This kid.
Yeah, Buddy. We are definitely friends.
Sitting there, I didn’t know why that didn’t seem like enough.
I shoved the feeling off and poked him gently in the side. “Now get to work, little slacker.”
He laughed, that rasping sound coming from his mouth, his smile so bright, his lips moving between the juts of laughter as he wrote.
I’m not a slacker.
No.
Not even.
But if I spent more time in their space, I was going to be a goner.
And I wasn’t sure my heart could take that.
“You were not joking.” I glanced over at Hope, who was standing hunched over the table and carefully winding the long ropes of colored candy into circles before she pressed sticks into their bases.
Why I was whispering, I didn’t know.
But somehow it fit the mood the long night had slipped into.
The quiet vibe that had taken over the space.
“Where’s that stamina you were bragging about a few hours ago?” It might have been a tease if the words hadn’t have been so strained, so weighted in her own exhaustion.
A light chuckle rumbled out. “Guess I shouldn’t be so sure of myself, after all. Some things are harder than they look.”
She flinched with the double-meaning of it.
Both of us painfully aware of the other.
Like each of our movements barreled across the table.
Ricocheting and compounding.
We’d been at it for hours.
My fingers were sore, and my back hurt from leaning over for so long.
Heating the sugar and corn syrup on the stove.
Adding the flavor and the colors.
Rolling it into ropes.
Twisting them into circles.
Pressing the sticks into the bases.
It was tedious and time-consuming, and we most definitely hadn’t come close to making the million Evan thought we would.
Still, we’d made a ton. Trays of them sat on every surface in varying degrees of readiness. Cooling before they could be wrapped in clear wrappers so the ribbon and stickers could be affixed, which was actually Evan’s job on this makeshift assembly line.
Evan, who was fast asleep on the couch. Three hours before, he’d claimed he needed a break. Thirty minutes later, I’d tiptoed to the living room to check on him, only to find him curled under one of the throw blankets on the couch, his glasses askew, mouth open as his small breaths filled the air.
I’d taken his glasses and set them on the coffee table, somehow knowing I was crossing far too many lines when I pulled the blanket over his shoulders, affection so thick in my chest I could almost taste it.
I couldn’t stop it.
Not after having what had to be the most amazing night of my life.
Hours spent with him and his mom. With his trusting smile and open, incredible mind. With their amazing connection. Their love so free. Unconditional.
With Hope’s heart shining so bright, her body a stunning distraction.
Light and life and belief.
Yeah. I loved seeing it with Rex and Rynna. Their happy family. Didn’t know of many people who deserved it the way they did.
But that experience was always me on the outside looking in. Doing my best to be there for them when they needed me.
Tonight, I’d felt right in the middle of it.
A partner to it.
A part of it.
It was stupid.
I hardly even knew them.
But standing there looking down at him, I’d been wishing things could maybe be different. I’d been wishing that fate wasn’t such a crue
l bitch to send me these two when I couldn’t keep them. Shouldn’t keep them.
Because everything felt too close and too raw and too real.
Besides, I knew Hope was struggling to deal with something bigger than I fully understood.
My bones howled with the warning that I shouldn’t even be there. But my spirit was demanding I stay. That I explore whatever was happening between us. It felt too important to ignore.
The awareness of it had seeped into the atmosphere when I’d come back into the kitchen and told Hope he was asleep.
All the playful easiness from earlier had been erased.
In its place was an intensity that slowed the atmosphere. The room echoing with what-ifs and questions and hunger. This blinding need that tugged and pushed and bound.
“It’s really late, Kale. You should go home. I never expected you’d stay this long.”
I glanced at the clock. “It’s barely one a.m. on a Friday night. That’s still early.”
I attempted a smirk that fell flat.
She gave a little huff. “I bet. Though, I’m sure you are much more accustomed to putting that stamina to better use on Fridays in the middle of the night. You regretting it yet, Cowboy?”
My mind blazed right back to that Friday two weeks ago.
I could hear her.
Taste her.
I angled my gaze her direction, pinning her with my stare, voice going deep. “My only regret is you not having the chance to experience it yet.”
“Kale,” she whispered, her fingers fumbling as she wound the candy. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m not the one who’s doing it, Hope. Seems to me it’s already there, whether we give it permission to be or not.”
She blinked, trying to concentrate on finishing one of the last lollipops. I still could see the small tremble on the corner of her delicious mouth. “You’re right. It’s there. I just wish it would have come at a better time.” I could see it, the fear that suddenly blistered across her flesh, the way those eyes glinted beneath the light with the moisture that had instantly gathered.
Follow Me Back (A Fight for Me Stand-Alone Novel Book 2) Page 14