“When are you going to get it through your thick skull that this, for once, is really none of your business?”
“You mean like it wasn’t your business when I was being bullied and didn’t want you to report it?”
“Ancient history. And I did that for your own good.” Milly crossed her arms over her big belly.
“And I’m doing this for your own good. Look, I can see you’re in a bad mood. Pregnancy hormones and all. I’m sure it’s way worse than PMS. We can talk about this later.”
Charley had her hand on the doorknob when a pillow hit the back of her head. She turned, annoyed as hell. “What was that for?”
“To get your attention.”
“Sugar Honey Iced Tea,” Charley spit out, picked up the pillow, and brought it back to her. “I’m just trying to give you some space.”
“Face it, you didn’t want to come home. You don’t want to stay. And right now, I’d just as soon as you leave.”
“That’s not fair. I’m here for you, but Bean needs a father. And what are you going to put on the birth certificate? Unknown?”
A mother who claimed not to know who her baby’s father was…that wasn’t Milly. It was Maggie. Maggie also said they’d never need anyone else, but one day Charley did. And she didn’t have anyone. For years. Not until Coral and Milly showed up in her life. Charley knew better than most what it was like to grow up without a family. Not to have any real roots or sense of permanence. No security. No soft place to fall.
Milly blew out a breath, and for the first time Charley saw uncertainty in her eyes. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“You do know who it is?”
“Of course I do!”
“You don’t have much time left.” She took a strangled breath that passed through her lungs like a stone. “You can’t do this on your own.”
“I can, I will, and I don’t need you, either.”
Charley pushed back her own tears, swallowing until she could get past the ball of raw pain in her throat. “You don’t mean it.”
“Stop trying to fix me and fix yourself. You’re always chasing after something you think is going to change your life in some way. Make you special. Paris. New Orleans. New York City. You already have everything you could have ever dreamed of right here, but you just can’t see it.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to be moved from one home to another, nobody wanting me, for years.”
“We wanted you! But that wasn’t good enough.”
“Of course it was…I—”
How had Milly managed to turn this entire conversation around to Charley’s issues, of which, admittedly, there were many? But none of them had anything to do with this conversation.
“You did it again! Turned it back to me. Oh, you’re talented.”
“Well, Coral was my mother so I guess I learned from the expert. She always wanted to be your mother, too. Did you ever think about her and what it did to her to know she wasn’t enough for you? You always thought Maggie would be back for you and she loved you too much to take that away from you. She loved you like you were her own daughter.”
Charley couldn’t breathe. Her throat was closed up so tight it had become difficult to talk.
Milly was having no such issue with all of the talking. “You don’t want to stay. Mama and I…we were never enough for you. Go ahead and take your job in New Orleans. I don’t want you here!”
“But you need my help. You’re on bed rest.” Charley fought back tears. Milly had never been this irate before.
“I’ll get Naomi to help more.”
Naomi was just a girl, and she wasn’t Milly’s sister so she didn’t care as much as Charley did. She saw Milly in a frosty haze through wet lashes. “If that’s what you want. I’ll leave.”
“It’s what you do.” Milly rose from the couch, walked to her bedroom and slammed the door shut.
Charley let herself out the front door and banged it shut. That last statement was so unfair. Charley didn’t always leave. Even if she did, the point was that she always came back. That counted for something. When she stepped inside her apartment, she caught Dylan standing by the opened refrigerator door apparently searching for something to eat.
He took one look at Charley, and his brow creased in concern. “What?”
Without a word, she launched herself at him. He had stepped forward, so that the impact of their two bodies colliding was jarring to her senses. He caught her tightly to him, his hands at her waist. She pushed her face into his chest, the cotton of his shirt smelling fresh and warm. The tears came easily then.
“Tell me,” he said as strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close.
“S-sorry. You were right,” she managed through ragged breaths. “I s-should have minded my own business.”
“She’s mad.”
“Mad?” She pushed back and tilted her head to meet his eyes. “I’ve never seen her like this. S-she told me to leave!”
“She doesn’t mean it.”
“You warned me. I never listen, do I?” Oh boy, the tears were coming harder and faster. The dreaded ugly cry.
“Stop—”
“No. You were right.” Her eyelashes were wet. No holding back.
“You know I didn’t want to be right about this. I hoped Milly would cut you some slack. She knows you love her. She knows that you mean well.”
She also knows that I didn’t have a father. I barely had a mother until Coral. But this wasn’t Charley’s baby to love and do right by. That was up to Milly. Charley should have realized she didn’t have control over this anymore than she’d had control over Maggie’s life choices.
She reluctantly pulled out of Dylan’s arms and laid on the couch, drawing her legs up to her chest and assuming the fetal position. “Go home. I’m going to lie here and regret all my life decisions until I finally fall asleep.”
“No way.” Dylan crouched beside her, balancing on the balls of his feet. “I’m not leaving you like this.”
“I’m not good company.”
“Don’t care. You didn’t eat.”
“So? Who needs to eat?”
Okay, she was scaring herself now.
Everyone needed to eat and eat a lot. Rich and delicious food. Butter. Cream. Red meat. Screw the calories. She’d skipped the buffalo wings at Juan’s because…please. She had planned to cook for Milly tonight but now she just wanted to shrink up and die. Milly wanted her to go. Charley didn’t know what to do next. Maybe she could take the job with Chef Tati in New Orleans if it wasn’t too late now. As usual, nobody wanted her. Not even Milly.
When she heard rustling in the kitchen, she sat up to find Dylan next to a pan on the stove. Oh no. He was going to cook for her. It would be an unmitigated disaster and she would have to eat it because…the “best friend card.” And her face was so expressive she could never conceal when she hated a dish. It hadn’t made her many friends in the culinary world, except for excellent cooks who didn’t have a thing to worry about in the first place.
She heard the sizzle of butter. She’d recognize that sound anywhere. It was like hugging an old friend. “Dylan? What are you doing?”
“Making you an omelet. You’re going to eat.” He said this as if there was no debating the subject.
She prayed for him because there was nothing worse than eggs that were either undercooked or heaven forbid overcooked. But she told herself that if she resented Milly micromanaging in the bakery, surely she could stop herself from doing the same with Dylan.
“Any advice for me? I’m going in.” His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying those muscular forearms.
“Um, no.”
He chuckled. “This must be tough for you.”
Oh, he had no idea. No one cooked for her. No one! The only thing she’d let someone else make her for dinner was reservations. But this was so sweet of Dylan and she watched him silently as he chopped basil and grape tomatoes, the muscles of his back and forearms
bunching. A few minutes later he brought the dish to her on one of her blue and orange ceramic plates. He’d garnished it with a sprig of basil. He’d even plated the meal.
He slid an easy smile and her heart flopped around in her chest, not knowing what hit it.
“You’ve been watching me,” she said in awe. “All these years. Can you really cook, Dylan Reyes?”
“To quote one of my favorite movies, ‘Anyone can cook’ but I guess you’re about to find out.” He sat next to her.
“Ratatouille is not one of your favorite movies. It’s one of mine.”
“I’ve watched it with you enough times. Believe me, I can cook. I take my turn in the station’s kitchen.” He lifted a shoulder. “No one’s died yet.”
“High praise.” Charley prepared to take a bite, breaking off a small piece with the fork. She brought it to her lips, inspecting it. Hazard of the trade.
“You’re scared.” He studied her, his grin widening.
“No, no. I’m just…I’m…eating this.”
In her mouth, the bite dissolved into a combination of fluffy eggs cooked to perfection, melted goat cheese and the always noteworthy combo of her favorite standbys, tomato and basil. Her taste buds leapt for joy.
“This is…this is good.” She took another bite. Then another.
“You’re that surprised. Afraid of the competition?”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes, then nearly licked her plate clean.
“Uh-huh.”
“You’re a good cook. A promising one. I’d teach you. Take you under my wing. It could happen.”
“Yeah?” He folded his hands behind his neck and leaned back. “That would mean you’d have to stick around. And teach me.”
She hitched a breath, afraid to breathe. Her next question was so significant she was almost too afraid to ask it. But she wanted an answer. Especially after that smoldering kiss in the bakery.
“Do you want me to stay?”
14
“I love you more than cupcakes.” ~ meme
An interminable second later, Dylan answered. His soft gaze met hers, then he reached to squeeze her hand. “Stay.”
Oh. My. God. He’d honestly never asked her to stay. Well, he hadn’t asked this time, either, she reminded herself. But he’d confirmed it to be what he wanted, and she’d run with it.
“About that kiss…”
“This isn’t about the kiss. It’s about you and Milly. You can’t leave her like this. You’ll regret it and so will she.”
Her stomach churned with regret. “Oh. That’s it? You haven’t thought about us…you and me…together?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Because I’ve thought about us.”
“I know,” he said.
“Wow, okay then. Just because you’re handsome, you know, that doesn’t mean—”
“It was in the way you kissed me.”
“You kissed me.”
“Well, you kissed back.”
“Look, I don’t want to argue about who’s right. You can be right this time.” She moved the plate aside. “And because you asked, I’ll stay.”
“That’s all it takes? Asking? Because that would be a first.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
Taking her chances, she moved to climb on his lap and straddle him, threading fingers through his thick dark hair. His eyes immediately heated as his hands skimmed down her spine. Shy and fixated on his sensual mouth, already tipping up in a half smirk, she sent him a wordless invitation.
He certainly got the message and took her mouth in a soul-ripping kiss, consuming her just like she’d devoured his eggs. Pulling her closer. Tighter. She met his hot tongue as it explored. Plunged. He tasted like seduction. Like the sweetest of sins. When his hands lowered and settled on her hips, she kicked things up a notch and gyrated hips over him. He let out a low hiss. The pattern of his breathing changed and matched her short and panting breaths. They were moving fast but she didn’t give it a second thought and hoped that he wouldn’t.
He stopped kissing her and hand on the nape of her neck, pulled back to meet her gaze. “This could be dangerous. You and me. Here. Alone together.”
The words sent a shiver of sweet and intense pleasure up her legs, and warmth grew heavy between her thighs. Danger and Dylan were two words that never went together for her. But there was another side of him she’d never seen, and she liked edgy Dylan.
“Dangerous?” She kissed the rough light stubble of his jaw. “How? Are we talking I’m going to need a safe word kind of danger?”
He sent her a wicked smile and his teeth dragged over his lower lip. “There are a whole lot of steps between making out and needing a safe word.”
A tingle curled up her spine. “I know that.”
“But maybe you should pick a safe word anyway.”
“Okay,” she said, enjoying this game. “My safe word is ‘pineapple.’ How’s that?”
“Pineapple?” His eyes narrowed.
“I’ve decided that it’s my favorite fruit. It’s just so…regal.”
“Stop thinking in terms of food, chef.” He squeezed her behind. “Try again.”
When he touched her like that, she would do anything he asked. “Then I think I’ll choose ‘please’ as my safe word.”
“See, that could be taken both ways.”
“As in ‘please stop’ and ‘please don’t stop?’”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Exactly.”
“Well, I like my safe word and I think I’ll keep it. But you need one, too. I can be kind of dangerous. What makes you think you don’t need one?”
“The fact that you picked pineapple as your safe word.”
His fingers trailed from her thighs to the back of her knees and caused an electrical current in her belly.
“Stop teasing me,” she said, gazing first at his trailing fingers, then meeting his eyes.
The teasing was familiar, but the heat in his eyes…not so much.
“Never.” His deep voice was almost a whisper as his gaze slid to her lips.
The muscles in his shoulders tensed and bunched. She sensed a momentary hesitation as his hands settled on her ass, tightening. He kissed her with a heartfelt, wet and deep kiss that had her head spinning. She could hear her heartbeat loud enough to wake the comatose and swore she smelled fresh crisp apples. Tasted the mint of his toothpaste, but that might be because she was doing her utmost to inhale him. He was so male, so strong, so hard and firm beneath her touch. Not like any other man she’d ever kissed before. Just…more.
More of everything.
Her hands slid up and down his strong back, coming to rest on the waistband of his jeans. He made a very male, deep sound in his throat. The growling was good. Then he fisted her hair and broke the kiss. She was about to protest, when he reached with one hand to swiftly remove his gray hoodie. Underneath he had on a dark blue long-sleeved tee stretched tight across his wide shoulders. It read: Just Do it Already and Stop Whining.
She smiled. Yes, please. Let’s just do it.
“You’re trembling,” he said.
His deep voice, husky and gravelly near her earlobe, scraped at her tender pink parts and had her nearly coming with the sound. She shook at the sensation of his warm breath against her skin. His hands slid down her arms to cuff her wrists. She was actually shaking. How embarrassing. He’d barely touched her, but the anticipation was killing her slowly.
“Tell me.” He tipped her chin to meet his eyes. “You scared?”
“No. Not with you.”
He cocked his head and his smile tipped up on one side in that boyish smirk she adored.
“Alright, I’m a little bit scared.”
“We’re not doing anything you don’t want to do. You’re safe here with me, you know that, right?”
“I know. I’ve always known.”
One emotion she’d never felt around Dylan was fear. He’d been her protector for so lon
g that she’d taken at least that part for granted. When she’d gone out into the big bad world as an adult, she’d received a real education. Most men wanted something from her. Sex. Money. She’d only known one man who for as long as she’d known him had never asked anything of her.
Including asking her to stay. “It’s just that you and I…we never.”
“I know.”
“So why does it feel so natural?”
“Because it’s going to be good.”
She had no doubt he’d be good, but she didn’t know that she would be. And she hated to let him down. This was Dylan. Everything mattered in an epic way. She couldn’t bear to disappoint him.
“H-how do you know?”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s you and me. Us. And believe me, this kind of chemistry doesn’t come around every day.”
“I know.”
“You’re so beautiful, Charley. So damn beautiful. Believe that.” He kissed her long, deep and hard.
No wonder she’d loved him for half her life. It wasn’t just the dark and brooding Reyes looks. It was the way he looked at her, as if she was the most precious thing in this world. As if she was the prize. It was in the way he’d always had her back. In the way he’d die before he ever let anyone hurt her.
She stood, wordlessly led him to her bedroom and tentatively shut the door. He kissed her again, and this time the kiss went on and on and got a little bit wild as they clutched at each other. She fisted his tee like he was her anchor. He had his hands up her shirt and then under her bra cup, tweaking her nipple. The move sent a shiver that wrapped around the back of her knees. A few seconds later she no longer had a shirt on and neither did he. Their clothes were discarded piecemeal as they moved, grasping for each other and careening towards the bed, occasionally bumping into walls. The dresser. A lamp which fell to the floor with a thump.
Dylan laughed and settled the lamp on her nightstand. Then he turned to her. She wore nothing but her bra, panties, and what she was certain had to be a quivering smile.
He’d seen her in a two-piece bathing suit plenty of times, but from the look on his face now, he’d never really seen her. Not like this. And it wasn’t as if her bathing suits had ever been the slightest bit revealing. She’d have never been allowed to wear anything skimpy when Coral Monroe had anything to do with it. Smutty underwear was also forbidden. To hear Coral tell it, all teenage boys had X-ray vision. But from the day Charley moved out of Coral’s home, she’d taken to stocking up on racy panties whenever there was a sale.
The Accidental Kiss Page 9