25. Window to Door
25
WINDOW TO DOOR
KEATON
I headed to the Hops to receive our weekly delivery and stock the bar, needing something to do with my hands. Something to focus on besides Sophie’s voice in my head and the worries that I’d messed things up between us.
Jessa was already there, organizing bottles with a precision that rivaled the military. She’d tied her blonde hair in a bandana, wore her overalls, and looked like she meant business.
After a few minutes of cataloguing the order in our system, she asked, “Are you counting bottles or just brooding again?”
I paused mid-shelf, chest tightening, and forced a chuckle. “What gave me away?”
“The sighing. The pinched face. You’re standing like a statue and I’m worried blood flow isn’t getting into your legs or your brain. Usually you’d bark orders to wrap this up—especially with the next delivery showing up soon.”
I ran my palm down my face. “Yeah. Sorry. Got a lot on my mind,” I mumbled.
She snorted. “About Sophie? Who else consumes every stray thought of yours?”
My head jerked up, heat flared in the pit of my stomach. “You can tell?”
Jessa leaned forward, folding her arms on the polished countertop. “Keaton, I might be slinging drinks most nights, but I see everything. I can read lips—another handy talent—so believe me when I say I’ve watched you two very closely. I’ve seen how she looks at you, and how you look at her.”
I shook my head. “What do you actually think you know?”
Her expression softened, with concern in her eyes. “I think I know what’s really going on between you two, but since you’re not telling anyone the truth…” She motioned to her lips as if zipping them shut.
“Dammit. I knew the walls were thin here.”
“And I’m fairly certain of your problem. It’s time you admit it.”
“Admit what, exactly?” I rested my elbows on the bar, shoulders slumped, and pressed my fingertips into my temples. My chest tightened and this conversation with Jessa turned in circles.
She jabbed me in the ribs. “That you love her, dummy. And she’s in love with you, too.”
Love? The word struck me hard, as if a baseball bounced off my skull. Would that explain this heat in my stomach when around her? The bone-deep ache when she wasn’t in the room? The way breathing became easier when she laughed?
Fuck me. “I have it bad,” I croaked.
“Yeah, you do. So tell her.” Jessa grinned like she had won a monumental battle in a court of law.
“You’re right. I have to go before she slips away.” I stepped around the bar, halfway out the door in long strides, but stopped and yelled, “Whatever you think you know about us, please keep it to yourself.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be here keeping your secrets. Not going anywhere, and it’s not like I have a man to run off to,” she shouted.
I couldn’t get my truck home fast enough, with my heart hammering so hard it reverberated throughout my entire body.
When I entered the house, I found Sophie leaning against the sink, peering out the rain-smeared window, her hands curled around the Boss Lady mug I’d bought her. Steam curled in lazy spirals above the dark liquid, but she stared beyond it—at the rolling clouds, or something deeper.
Her hair was piled in a careless knot atop her head, and she wore sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. Those were her telltale “off-duty” clothes, signifying she had no intention of coming to work with me at Hops this morning.
I had missed seeing her there in my office lately.
“Hey,” I said. A sudden gust rattled the window frame, and my heart thumped in my chest. I felt like a man caught without an umbrella, rain and hail smashing down, soaking me from the inside out.
“Hi,” she clipped, pouring her coffee down the drain and setting her cup in the sink.
We still hadn’t talked about things. Entirely my fault, because I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I didn’t want to end things between us. I liked us. But what if she didn’t and walked away, left me to chase her own dreams elsewhere?
The thought tightened a grip around my ribs.
She’d been quieter recently, working more, dodging my eyes when I tried to hold her gaze too long. Her body still curled into mine at night, though. We still fucked—but it’d changed, more intense, more tender, chasing something lost in the shadows, like we were craving a deeper connection for each other. But when the kisses ended, and the world went still, she disappeared somewhere I couldn’t follow.
Like I’d stolen the sun from her morning.
We couldn’t keep living like this. I missed her. I needed to break the ice.
I stepped behind her, pressing my palms on either side of her at the edge of the counter. I bent my head and kissed the nape of her neck.
“I know the other day you were upset. I was too. I made a horrible joke about breaking up. Then you followed it, mentioning divorce. It got out of hand more than it should have.”
“Yes, it did. I’m sorry, too. But Keaton, Melanie is on her way back to film soon. She’s going to want to see cracks in the surface, and create drama between us. I guess we don’t have to fabricate it.”
“But what if I don’t want us to end, Soph?” Her body melted back against me. My chest swelled with hope. “What if I want more out of this with you?”
“Can you be specific? What do you want, Keaton?”
“You.” I threaded my fingers through hers and turned her slowly to face me. “All I know is, the thought of a day without you in my life is like a day without oxygen. If you left me, I’d perish. You don’t want that.” I tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m betting that you feel the same way I do. Neither of us has admitted what’s really happening here.”
A fragile smile tugged at her lips. “Which is?”
“We’re in love.”
I let the words hang, waiting for her to prove I’m not crazy.
Her brown eyes were warm on me for the first time since Richard’s. “Is that what you think?”
“I’m man enough to call it what it is and not walk away. Love, Soph. That’s what this is. Now, are you going to boss-lady up and tell me I’m right?” I arched a brow with a cocky grin and challenged her to prove me wrong.
Her palms ran up my chest and circled my neck. “Okay. Let’s say this is love. What would be your next move, Mr. Kingston?”
Her phone buzzed in the living room. She tried to slip free, but I caught her wrist.
“Hey—my little stalker isn’t escaping that fast. What happened to my number one fan? Who couldn’t get enough of me?”
Her lips curled, and those pretty eyelashes fluttered at me. “She’s still here.”
“Then show me.” I closed the gap, one hand at her neck, my thumb at her racing pulse. In this possessive hold, I pressed my mouth to hers, needing her to be mine in every possible way. She heated up to me, our lips pleading without words.
The spark between us flared, alive and well, daring me to fight for it.
Her thigh lifted on mine, and my hands dipped under her sweatshirt, and yanked it overhead, exposing her bare breasts. I captured one pink peak in my mouth, palming the other.
“Mm. Keaton.” She gathered my Hops sweatshirt up my back, and soon that joined hers on the floor. I caressed a hand down her torso, inside her leggings, and parted her seam. Taking pleasure at her, ready, willing, already wet.
“Do you know how much you turn me on?” My voice was low and gravely.
“I think,” she panted as I strummed her clit, “you better show me again.”
I wasted no time. I tugged her leggings off, shed my pants, then lifted her so she could sink onto my hard shaft. In the middle of the kitchen, her gasp and my groan collided, jolting straight through my spine.
“I’m home inside of you, Soph.” Her hot, tight walls clenched around me like her body agreed, welcoming me.
I gripped her hips, standing there, setting a relentless pace, each stroke harder, deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing off tile and cabinets. I shifted her over to the counter for leverage and it creaked with each thrust, her moans growing louder, messier.
“Keaton,” she whimpered, her knuckles white on the edge of the tile.
“Yeah, baby,” I rasped into her ear, curled over her, driving us both higher. “You love me? Then come for me.”
She answered with a muffled cry in my neck, her whole body trembling in my hold. I followed, burying my seed deep, every pulse of our release shaking loose the truth between us.
We slumped together over the counter, breathless and tangled. I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, knowing she captured my heart completely.
“I love you, Sophie,” I whispered.
“I love you, too, Keaton.” She pressed her forehead to mine.
“Still think there are cracks beneath the surface for Melanie to find?”
She shook her head, eyes heavy-lidded. Then her phone rang again.
I let her go, for now, and headed to the bathroom to clean up. When I returned, her expression was unreadable.
“Keaton, you’re not going to believe this. I got invited to an interview for Brand You Now . It’s a national marketing show where they makeover a business each week. Live taping happens in New York. And you’ll never guess who referred me. Melanie. Do you know how many doors this could open for me?”
She beamed, so proud of herself, and she deserved it. Only my stomach dropped.
I covered up my concern with a smile plastered on, and words of encouragement. But doors opening for her meant none of them led to me. Each one could take her away, right when we finally admitted we loved each other.