I give the blender a quick pulse to re-mix the frozen margarita before opening the cabinet to grab a new glass. Except, the shelf at eye level is empty and the only available cups are up high, almost out of my reach.
Lifting on my toes, I stretch as tall as I can, tension pulling the straps over my shoulders and causing my cutoff overalls to ride up my ass. My fingers graze the bottom of the shelf I need to reach and I use my other hand to push myself off the counter. I’m so close to getting my hand around a glass when a vein-corded arm reaches over me.
“I’ve got it,” Kai says before his hand stills on the cup, both of us suddenly hyperaware of our proximity.
His body crowds mine from behind, enveloping every inch of my skin, and when he finally takes the glass from the shelf, he sets it down, but doesn’t back away. He keeps his stance, bracketing his palms against the counter on either side of me.
Dropping back on my heels, every inch of his front touches my back. “Thanks,” I somehow say.
“Mm-hmm.” His chest rumbles with a hum and I feel the gravel through each nerve in my body.
My shorts are so far up my ass right now, but I don’t even care with Kai’s body covering mine. Giving him permission to stay, I slightly lean back, my head resting on the broad plane of his chest.
He inhales and speaks in a whisper, his friends in the next room over. “You smell nice. Sweet, ironically.”
“How is that ironic?” I chuckle. “I bake for a living.”
“Because you like to pretend as if you’re all spice.”
I know what he’s doing, trying to break down my defenses, bringing me to a cozy family dinner after his son took his first steps. Telling me he knows I’m sweeter than I let on. But I allow it, letting myself indulge in the idea of simple days when I know soon enough, I’ll be back to the chaos of chasing life’s checkmarks in a stressful kitchen.
Wandering, his hand skims over my bare thigh, fingertips grazing the hem of my frayed cutoffs. He follows the line of fabric, the pads of his fingers dusting my bare ass before he pulls the material down to cover me again.
“These fucking legs, Mills.”
Involuntarily, I arch into him. He feels good. He smells good and I’m really tired of his no-kissing rule.
Kai’s hand splays over my lower stomach to keep our contact. “Today was a good day.”
It really was. Simple and good.
Turning, I look at him, our lips almost brushing. “They can all be good days.”
His eyes bounce to my mouth.
“Really? In my kitchen? Next to the food?” Ryan stands in the entryway with his hands full of dirty dishes. “At least use a spare bedroom. We’ve got three more besides the one Max is sleeping in.”
Kai takes a step back and I create more distance. The last thing I need is his friends comparing their situation to Kai’s while they’re getting married and having babies, and I’m over here only allowing myself to indulge in his lifestyle for my brief stay.
“You guys could sleep here, you know?” Ryan sets the dishes in the sink and starts to clean them. “That way you don’t have to move Max.”
And dear God, that sounds couple-y as fuck, spending the night at his friends’ house after we’ve all had dinner and drinks together.
Kai quickly glances my way, most likely noting the look of absolute terror on my face. “Thanks, man, but we leave on a road trip tomorrow, so we should get back.”
It’s one of the few times I’m thankful he can read my mind.
Max is still passed out on his dad’s shoulder by the time we get to the front door of their house. Kai unlocks it, standing back to usher me inside.
But I can’t go in. It’s almost as if there’s a force field keeping me out. After tonight, things feel too sticky, too connected for me to go inside with him.
Running my hand over Max’s hair, I place a quick kiss on his little forehead.
“I’m gonna . . .” I toss my thumb over my shoulder towards the side gate that leads to his backyard. “I’m just going to go to bed.”
“Mills.” Kai’s tone is somewhat begging. “Please don’t sleep out there.”
God, that plea hits me right in the heart, cracking a bit more of the armored shell that surrounds it.
And for that reason, I take two steps backward toward the side gate and slip into the backyard without another word.
“Miller,” he whisper-shouts. “Are you serious?”
I get myself inside the van, immediately locking the door behind me, needing to create some sort of barrier from the domestic, homey, and settled feelings that have invaded my chest tonight.