Chapter 17
Camila
I crack open my bedroom door.
The house is dark.
So I make my escape, tiptoeing down the hall to the kitchen so I don’t wake Hess—or more accurately, so I don’t see Hess.
After meeting his parents the other day, bumping into him would feel awkward.
I don’t meet parents.
Ever.
That’s why I stayed in my room the rest of that afternoon and have been working late every night this week. I’m only coming out now, when I’m sure he’s gone to bed, because I’m hungry and can’t stare at legal papers any longer.
I open the refrigerator, using the light to help me find a bowl. Hess wasn’t joking about his ice cream addiction. I’ve never seen a freezer so well stocked. Once I’ve drizzled chocolate syrup over every scoop, I close the refrigerator and sit in the dark, eating my middle-of-the-night treat.
The lights flip on, blinding me.
“Hey.” Hess walks into the room in only shorts.
I choke on my ice cream, shocked to be caught and shocked to see him shirtless again. Of course, I’ve fantasized about it since the shower incident over a month ago. Guilty as charged.
My eyes drop to the bowl in front of me, avoiding the valleys and plains of his chest. “Hey.”
“Ice cream at night,” he snickers. “You’re my kind of woman.”
His kind of woman? Normally, that phrase would bug the heck out of me, but when Hess says it, it sort of feels like a compliment.
He gets out a bowl and a variety of flavors, placing them on the kitchen island across from where I sit.
I tell myself not to look at him. It’s just skin—literally the largest organ on the human body—nothing special here.
But my eyes betray me, tracing over his chest and arms, cataloging every inch.
Totally normal.
Totally fine.
Just a shirtless man I can’t seem to stop looking at.
“Sorry about my parents the other night.”
I snap my gaze to his face. Luckily, he’s focused on scooping ice cream and didn’t notice my perusal. “It’s fine. Your parents were…” How do I finish this sentence? Overbearing? Terrifying? Delusional? Way too up in my business? “...nice.”
Hess laughs, glancing up at me. “Too nice.”
“They seemed to take the news of our marriage well.”
“It was rough at first, but you saw the aftermath of where they landed. To them, you’re officially a daughter-in-law now.”
My side pinches uncomfortably, and I press just above my hip to relieve the pain. “I’m not—”
“Relax.” He smiles in his easy, kind way that I can now say reminds me of his mother. “This isn’t a real marriage. I’m not getting any ideas.”
“Oh, good.” My chest falls with relief.
He rests against the counter, holding his bowl as he eats. Has there ever been a more attractive picture of man than Hess with his ankles crossed, casually leaning back, hair mussed, arm muscles moving and twisting every time he brings the spoon to his mouth? I think not.
And this isn’t even a cowboy fantasy.
This is regular Hess.
A nice guy, eating a late-night snack in his kitchen.
“So I’ve been waiting for your slide presentation,” he says with a smirk.
“Oh.” I shift uncomfortably. “I’m not making one of those.”
“Yes, you are. I made one.”
“Weeks ago.”
“Yeah, I’ve been waiting for your response for a while. Thanks for making my point for me.”
“Nobody asked you to send me Google Slides.”
“Our marriage counselor did.” He grins.
“No, she didn’t.”
“In a way, she did. But you’re failing our homework. I still have a lot of questions about you that I need answers to.”
“You don’t need answers.”
“I want to know my wife.” The freaked-out look on my face forces him to rephrase. “I want to know so I’m not embarrassed when we meet with Abby again.”
“I told you some stuff.” I stand and walk to the sink, rinsing out my empty bowl. “That’s enough for the counselor, don’t you think?”
I open the dishwasher and lean over to place the bowl and spoon inside. When I come back up, Hess is standing next to me at the sink. He smells incredible, like fresh soap on steroids. His bare arm brushes against mine as he turns on the faucet, sending a force of chills down my skin.
“This is why you get bored in relationships,” he says as he washes his bowl. “Because you don’t open up and let anyone in.”
My brows drop. “Are you suddenly our marriage counselor?”
His face turns to me, and despite the height difference, our lips feel incredibly close. I step back a little, but my calves hit the open dishwasher behind me.
I’m trapped.
There’s nothing to do but watch the charming way the corner of his mouth lifts into a sincere smile.
“I’m just a guy trying to get to know you.”
His words soften the hardness around my heart, and I find myself wanting to believe he’s being genuine, wanting to believe that there’s a man out there who’s good.
He scans my face, searching for something.
If only I knew what. Then slowly—ever so slowly—he leans closer, causing a wild rhythm to take over inside my chest. Oxygen suddenly feels optional.
I pause breathing, anxiously awaiting his next move.
Everything deflates when his lips miss mine, and he reaches past me, bending over to place his bowl on the top rack of the dishwasher.
I stand there, blinking.
Oh. My. Gosh. I thought Hess was going to kiss me.
Thankfully, I dodged that bullet. Crisis averted. Right? Right?!?
“You’ll turn off the lights when you’re done?” He steps around me, walking off.
More blinking, like my eyelids are the only thing on my body that knows how to work. “Yeah.”
“Goodnight.”
Hess leaves me standing alone in his kitchen, trying to process the swing of emotions that just happened inside me.
The most prevalent? Disappointment.