by Becky Wade
“Yes?”
“Is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He vowed it to her with such seriousness that her heart began to knock against her ribs. “It’s about time you started wearing those boots.”
She groped for and couldn’t find a come back. “H—” she began. Where had her voice gone? Why such a coward? “How’d it go with the cars this morning?”
“It went fine. I sacrificed my pride and drove Danny’s surfer car all the way back from Hugo.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He moved toward her.
Too nervous to keep looking at him for fear that she—or he—would do something foolish, she pointed to the small wrapped gift and homemade construction paper card sitting on the metal counter. “For you.”
“Really?” Carefully, he picked up the card that Addie had made for him.
Among the many things Celia had realized last night? That she and Addie had been remiss in thanking Ty for all he’d done for them. She’d set Addie down with art supplies after breakfast, then the two of them had gone shopping at Carrie’s Corner on their way to the bakery.
For long moments Ty stood with his head bent over the card, unmoving. Addie had drawn herself and Ty standing on a hill that looked like an upside-down U. They were holding hands, and Addie was wearing pink boots and a ball gown. Inside she’d wanted to write To the World’s Best Daddy, so Celia had helped her string the letters together.
Celia could sense something gathering in him. It almost looked as if moisture sheened his eyes.
Her heart really began to pound.
Without glancing at her, he set down the card and opened the present. A key chain. The charm attached to it had been made out of an old nickel stamped with the image of a longhorn and covered with glass resin. It was tiny in the palm of his strong hand.
“It’s just a little something,” Celia said. A key chain had seemed appropriate, since he kept giving her Give Peace a Chance key chains. Also, it had been affordable. Far more so than, say, a house and car. “A token of our appreciation for everything you’ve done.”
He continued to look down at it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s nothing, really—”
He pushed the key ring into his pocket and then his head came up, his eyes burning with emotion and heat. He came toward her, reaching for her hairnet. This wasn’t the first time he’d tried to snag it from her head. It had become a game.
She sidestepped quickly.
He darted out a hand. She yelped, dodging. He anticipated her reaction, hooking a finger lightning fast under the net and pulling it free. She stilled as her curls fell to brush against the top of her shoulders.
With a flick, he sent the hairnet sailing into the room’s corner, where it splatted like a dead balloon.
Again, he moved toward her, intent in his eyes. Mercy! Their relationship had been on a plateau for weeks, but now one card and key ring had pushed him over the edge.
Her rear came up against a corner where two counters met, trapping her. He stopped so close she could see the pulse in his neck. His expression informed her that he’d been patient as long as he could stand to be. That he was about to crush their truce. That the consequences could hang.
“There might be customers out front,” she said weakly.
“There’s no one there.”
“There’s Addie.”
“She won’t leave the cash register. She’s like a soldier.” He closed the space between them even more, until there was hardly a millimeter left. Goodness . . . Her will to resist him was disintegrating. She could not kiss him again! He presented a deadly danger to her well-being. And to Addie’s. And . . .
He lifted her hand and turned it palm up.
“No touching.” Her breath caught. “Remember?”
“You might not have noticed, but I’ve never liked rules.” Light as a whisper, he ran a fingertip from the pad of her thumb to her inner elbow.
“Hate it.” But she murmured it like a benediction, like a plea.
He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
“Awful,” she whispered.
“What about this?” He kissed the side of her neck.
In the tender hollow there she could feel the rasp of his stubble. “Even worse.” Her lids drifted closed.
He pulled back. Straightened.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her with fierce concentration. His hand lifted and cupped the side of her face. The rough pad of a finger caressed the skin near her temple. Taut silence wound around them, Ty promising her things with his eyes that he had no right to promise and that Celia had no business believing.
She almost couldn’t bear the fire inside of her that was such acute ecstasy and need that it felt like pain. Wonder struck, she ran her hands up to his shoulders, memorizing the feel of the ropes of muscle. Then higher, along the sides of his throat, until her fingers finally tunneled into the hair at the back of his neck.
Never had she wanted anything as sharply as she wanted him to kiss her. And still, he waited, staring at her with wolfish intensity. Celia teetered on the cusp of hyperventilating. Kiss me, she wanted to scream—
He kissed her. And not lightly.
The feel of his lips! The taste of him. It all came back to her in a rush of memories. The breath-stealing power of it. The wildness of her own reaction.
He deepened the kiss, leaning into her, one hand supporting her upper back, the other raking into her hair. She kissed him back, wishing he could be hers and hers alone.
“Mommy?” Addie called from the front of the shop.
Celia reared back.
Ty’s arms, like iron bands around her, didn’t budge. He lifted his face just enough so she could see that his features were stark, his color high.
“Yes?” Celia answered Addie with a voice embarrassingly high-pitched.
“No one’s coming in.”
“Okay. Thanks for letting us know.” She should push him away. Instead, she rested her palms on either side of his ruggedly beautiful face, a face a million women loved.
He gripped the fabric across the back of her shirt.
She lifted up onto her tiptoes and kissed him. A string of light kisses, separated only by shimmering glimpses of space and time to drink in the sensations.
“And I need to go to the bathroom!” Addie yelled.
With a groan, Celia angled toward the doorway that linked the front room to the kitchen. “Then come on back.”
Footsteps answered.
This time Celia did push Ty away, even though he still seemed inclined to stay right where he was, as if he didn’t care who saw him holding her. She extricated herself from him a bare second before Addie burst into the room. Their daughter shot them a look on her way past toward the bathroom. “If anyone comes in, don’t use the cash register without me, please.” The bathroom door closed behind her.
In the abrupt quiet that followed, Celia could feel the weight of Ty’s stare. Um . . . they’d just been kissing each other as if this was their last hour on earth. She couldn’t think of anything pithy to say or do in the face of that. Gathering her courage, she looked into his pale blue eyes. The air thickened. Her temperature climbed.
Addie returned from the bathroom. “Did anyone come in?”
“Nope,” Celia answered, and Addie rushed from the room.
The pause between them lengthened, full of physical longing and the thousand-pound realization of what they’d just done.
She opened her lips to say . . . something. Then pursed them. Knit her brow.
Unlike after their last kiss, she would not be flying into an offended huff and insisting he could never kiss her again. A few hours from now she might regret what had just happened between them, but she didn’t at the moment. Nor could she see an ounce of regret on Ty’s face.
“Aren’t you going to rip into me?” he asked.
“To be honest, I’m having trouble thinking straight at the mom
ent.” She cleared her throat. “Once I can think straight, then I might rip into you. I usually have no trouble finding a reason.”
He chuckled.
She faced her chopping board and, very inanely, resumed chopping walnuts. Even in her daze, she was aware that there were reasons not to launch herself back into his arms. Just because she didn’t care about those reasons currently didn’t mean they didn’t exist.
Celia heard Cream or Sugar’s front door open, then the sound of voices. Customers had arrived, which meant Ty needed to go help Addie.
“I’m glad you’re taking this so well,” Ty said, ignoring the customers.
“Mmm hmm.”
“We’re adults, after all. And married to each other. We’re allowed to kiss.”
If the authorities knew how he kissed a woman, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t allow it. “Right.”
“No harm done.”
She laughed out loud. Even to her own ears it sounded a little nutty.
“Uh-oh. Now are you going to lose it and rip into me?”
“No, no. As you said. We’re adults. We’re allowed.”
He regarded her with confusion. “I’m not used to you acting so normal.”
“Daddy! Come help me, please.”
He left. Celia continued to chop. Chop chop chop. She felt like a stranger in her own body. Her hands looked like they belonged to someone else. Chop chop. As she relived every second of their exchange and the kiss that followed, warmth unrolled within her. She paused to fan herself, then went back to chopping. She had walnut dust now, and still she kept on.
Ty’s kiss had incinerated thought. It had stolen from her the responsible mother side of her personality and replaced it with . . . she didn’t know what. The infatuated young woman she’d been in Vegas—
Only, no. That was a cop-out. She hadn’t reverted back to that girl just now. She’d kissed Ty as a grown woman. As herself. Not Celia the high school freshman, or the besotted fool from Vegas, but the mom, the person who moved money around trying to pay the bills. She’d kissed him as an adult who had a complete understanding of all his faults and all his strengths and who had wanted him anyway.
Did their kiss herald mass disaster? Or was it possible to kiss Ty Porter from time to time without her life falling down around her?
Chapter Twenty-five
After Celia tucked Addie into bed that night, she walked around her house, unsure what to do with herself. She ended up on her living room sofa. She propped her feet on the coffee table and clicked on the TV to a cooking show. Her brain, however, was so full of Ty that she couldn’t concentrate.
She’d had enough time now since The Kiss #2 to remember the reasons why she shouldn’t have done it.
On the other hand, no man other than Ty had kissed her since Vegas. She’d forgotten how incredibly—wildly, gloriously—heavenly it was.
Her phone buzzed to alert her to an incoming text. You’re not second-guessing our kiss are you? Ty asked.
No. Then she added, You big showboat.
I’m not second-guessing it either.
She rested her phone against her abdomen and smiled.
A moment later, another buzz. I can’t stop thinking about you, he wrote.
Good night, she typed.
Good night, sweet one.
It gave her a trembly fearful feeling inside to admit that she hoped he’d kiss her again. If he did, she had every intention of kissing him back.
Kissing, she rationalized, was fairly harmless. Right? She wouldn’t place her heart in his hands this time around. And she’d make sure they were very, very careful not to let Addie see.
If she went into it with those things in mind, then it ought to be fine to kiss Ty now and then. No strings attached. Just the pleasure and none of the pain.
Celia carried the paint and supplies she’d purchased into Cream or Sugar on Sunday. She stuck a Norah Jones CD into the boom box Donetta used to listen to baseball coverage, then helped Addie set up the jewelry making kit she’d been given for her birthday. While Addie strung beads, Celia took down the cheap donut prints and moved furniture. It took a while to measure the walls and calculate the width of the wide toffee- and white-colored stripes she envisioned. That done, she began the long job of taping.
She’d chosen to skip church this morning for two reasons. One, she only had today to paint and would need every hour to get the job done. Two, she wasn’t sure God would approve of the twist her relationship with Ty had taken. She didn’t know what He would disapprove of, exactly. She simply had the sense that she ought to feel badly about some aspect of it.
She’d balanced herself on a step stool and was reaching up to press painter’s tape against the wall when Ty walked in.
He looked up at her, eyes sizzling. Oh, the male beauty of him in a baseball cap and his gray Under Armour T-shirt and jeans.
A blush raced up her neck to her face.
“Daddy!”
He turned to Addie, and the two of them talked about her jewelry-making.
Celia returned to taping, her skin positively flaming. Suave, she thought. So subtle, Celia!
After some self-debate, she’d decided to wear a loose navy top over a cami plus her jean shorts. She wouldn’t dare get her new boots near paint, so she’d left them in the kitchen. The ridges of the stool’s step pressed against the soles of her bare feet.
“Hey, Celia?”
“Mmm?” A strangled sound.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” When she glanced over, he shifted his head toward the kitchen. “In there?” The wicked curl at the edge of his lips told her exactly what he had in mind.
She poised on the edge of decision, then clambered down and followed him. “What have you been up to this morning, Ty? I made pancakes and then—”
The second they were out of sight, he pulled her to him and kissed her. The pleasure of it slammed into her.
He walked them both across the kitchen without letting up. He lifted his head just long enough to shove open the pantry door with his boot.
“You’re taking me into the pantry?” she stage-whispered, laughter in her voice.
“I’m desperate.” He drew her into a room twice the size of a coat closet and filled with the scent of flour. “My family might show up any minute. I want to get in my chance at this before they get here.” He pulled the string attached to the overhead light, clicking it on. As if he’d been doing it all his life, he linked his hands behind the small of her back.
The man really did have towering confidence. There wasn’t a shred of awkwardness or hesitation in his manner.
“You smell good,” he said.
“So do you.” That woodsy aroma got her every time.
He nuzzled his face into her hair, then pressed light kisses to her neck, jaw, and cheek before finally reaching her mouth. Celia arched into him, kissing him. She even stepped on top of his boots in her bare feet, then lifted to her tiptoes.
She let the escalating joy of it continue for a couple of minutes. Five? Within his embrace it was hard to have any sense of time. Who could care about the future when they had this between them?
She finally did force herself to end it, because she hadn’t forgotten that Addie sat in the next room and that his family was due to arrive momentarily.
She plunked her forehead against his chest, hardly able to believe the masterful way he had of turning her body into liquid heat. “So I guess this means that yesterday’s kiss wasn’t a one-time thing.”
“Not hardly.” His voice sounded deep and sexy.
“There’s just one thing I ask.” She looked him in the eyes. “So long as you’re kissing me, I request that you not kiss anyone else.”
He quirked a brow. “I haven’t kissed anyone since Las Vegas. I’m not going to start now.”
“Tawny likes you, Ty.”
“Tawny’s dating a pediatrician.”
“Do we have a deal?”
“We have a deal. Does the same go for
you? You’re not going to kiss that tool, Neill?”
“No. Ty?”
“Yes?”
She sighed with regret. “I think we’d better leave the pantry.”
His fingertips grazed lightly up the back of her neck. “I don’t want to.”
“Any longer and your parents might be standing in the kitchen when the two of us walk out of here together.”
He resettled his baseball cap, his expression ornery, humorous, disgruntled. “Who cares?”
“I care! Listen, we’ve got to be very careful not to let Addie see us like this or do anything at all that would make her suspect.”
“I know.”
“Then help me out. Be . . . covert.”
As intent as a chess player, he ran a thumb down her neck, then her arm, all the way to her hand. He interlaced their fingers. “I’m not good at pretending.”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve seen you shovel more dung than the people walking behind the elephants at a circus. You pretend with every woman you meet: the heavy-handed compliments, the appreciative banter, the smile. You don’t mean any of it.”
He appeared ready to break into laughter.
“I’ve got you figured out,” she stated.
“And you still like me?”
“Just this much.” She held her thumb and pointer finger half an inch apart.
“I think you like me more than that.”
“We need to leave the pantry now.” She’d have gladly stayed in the pantry with him all day. It made her happy—foolishly, excitedly happy—just to have Ty look at her this way, talk to her this way, hold her hand this way. And yet, the real world waited.
Channeling her inner Bond girl, Celia eased open the pantry door and peeked out. The coast was clear.
Within minutes the Porter Family Help Squad began to arrive. First Jake—not a churchgoer, apparently. He and Ty filled nail holes and groove marks with putty, then started painting. Nancy, John, Bo, and Meg came after church. Nancy brought lunch, and once they’d all taken a break to eat the picnic-style food, they worked side by side.
For every second of the day, Celia’s attention tracked Ty. She meditated over the timbre of his voice. She noticed the muscles running along his spine, the strength in his wrists. Her tummy lifted with delight each time their eyes locked.