I lift my brow, a sly smile creeping across my lips. “The van has been known to rock. You should come in and give it a try sometime.”
He shoots me an unimpressed glare. “Please stop talking.”
Kai’s attention falls over my chest and stomach, reminding me that I’m wearing only a bralette with a pair of pants that are thin and loose, not touching any of my skin in this godforsaken heat.
I don’t cover up. Instead, I casually lean my arm on the headrest of the passenger seat, only putting me on display even more, allowing him to look because he wishes he wouldn’t.
“What can I help you with?”
Kai holds up a couple of Coronas. “Brought you your favorite morning beverage.”
“It’s 10 a.m.”
“Too late for you?”
Chuckling, I take one from him. “Not quite.”
“Can I come in?”
My van is meant for one. That one being someone smaller than a 6’4” baseball player. I’ve got a bed, a mini kitchen, and a milk crate I use as a seat or for storage depending on the day.
“I’m not sure where your big-ass body is going to go, but okay.”
“The bed looks good.” Kai ducks his head, walking into my space. He has to fully fold in half to make it the two steps to my mattress where he lays out, his long limbs hanging off the edge.
“You’re right,” I say, pulling my beer to my lips. “My bed looks real good.”
He chuckles, leaning on one elbow, ankles crossed as he props the monitor where we can both see Max sleeping just inside the house.
Kai looks light today. Maybe it’s the day off from the field. Maybe it’s the alcohol he’s allowing himself to enjoy. Maybe it’s the uninterrupted time he gets with his son, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes off him.
“Your butter is burning.”
Well, those words will do it.
“Shit.” I pull the saucepan from the flame as the van fills with that distinctly overdone smell. “Stop distracting me, looking all good on my bed while I’m trying to work. I haven’t burned butter since I was a kid.”
He folds one arm under his head, his smirk all smug before he pulls his beer to his lips.
Kai is a good-looking man. There’s no way he’s unaware of that fact, but sometimes it seems like he forgets. In the weeks we’ve known each other, my comments have gone from making him flustered and fuming to adding a bit of swag to his step. I have no issue hyping the guy up all summer if that’s what he needs.
Turning off the inconsistent flame, I take a seat on the milk crate across from the bed.
“What are you making?” he asks.
“I was working on something new. A hazelnut and browned butter tart. Vanilla buttermilk ice cream. Caramelized pear. They’ll be in season in the fall, in time for the article to come out, but”—I gesture to the burned butter—“I didn’t get far.”
“That seems like quite the undertaking for this tiny kitchen.”
“I’ve made more extensive desserts than that in here.”
“Maybe you’re struggling because of the lack of space to create.”
My attention darts back to him. It should be criminal to be that good-looking and so intuitive at the same time.
“Is this why you brought me a beer at 10 a.m. on your day off, Kai? To get me to figure out why I suck at my job so badly?”
“No.” Another swig from his bottle. “You once told me the reason you’re here this summer is because you owe your dad. You also told me you’d explain what that means over beers one morning so I’m here to collect on that promise.”
“Actually, I told you if we got drunk together one morning, I’d tell you. One Corona isn’t going to cut it.”
“Yeah, well . . .” He nods towards the monitor. “I’ve got responsibilities. Single dad and all so one beer is going to have to do it.”
The smile on my lips slowly slides across my face before I cover it with the bottle in my hand. Kai Rhodes relaxing in my van with a drink in his hand would’ve been out of the realm of possibilities only weeks ago, so I’ll take the compromise. He looks good like this.
“You gonna spill, Miller, or what?”
“My dad gave up his entire career for me. His entire life. I owe him to make sure I do something with mine.”
“That’s what this is all about?” He nods towards the stovetop.
I don’t respond, unsure if he’s referring to my career choices or the fact I’ve stayed away for so long, working in kitchens all around the country, but he’d be correct on both counts.