Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
I hesitate outside the bathroom door—not because I’m having second thoughts, but because bursting into the men’s room unannounced might have some very unsexy results that could prove to be a real mood killer. I hadn’t really thought that one through last night with Grady, mostly because I was acting on pure desperation. But now I’m realizing that barging into bathrooms might create a huge problem. It’d be really hard to come back from catching Kimo in the middle of a number two, for example.
After a few moments of indecision, I determine the best way to know whether the bathroom is safe for me to enter for sexy times is to wait for the sound of a flush. Then I can give it a few seconds before making my entrance and, ideally, catching him washing his hands. (Please, God, let him wash his hands.)
With that decided, I press my ear to the door, listening for the sound of the flush.
Almost immediately, the door is pulled open from the other side. I lose my balance and go flailing into the room. Kimo catches me before I hit the floor, but only just barely. “Mattie? What are you doing?”
I straighten as best I can, attempting to toss the lock of hair that’s fallen into my eyes back out of my face by jerking my head. I try my best to maintain eye contact with Kimo as I’m doing this, hoping for sexy, though I suspect by the perplexed look on his face that it’s probably coming across a bit manic. I finally resort to using my hand, smoothing my hair back into place, before giving him my best sexy smile. “Coming to find you.”
Kimo’s confusion quickly morphs into understanding. His eyebrows notch up a bit. “Ohhh.”
That “ohhh” doesn’t sound...great. I’d expected him to be excited, and let’s be real, a little bit grateful. I’m assuming it’s not every day a woman like me throws herself at him. That “ohhh,” though, sounded like more of an “oh shit” than an “oh, happy day! I’m about to get laid by a beautiful blonde!”
Maybe he’s just surprised , I reason with myself. It probably takes a minute to transition from being in the I’m going to the bathroom mode to I’m about to have sex mode, right? I give him my best sultry smile, using the fact that he’s still half holding me up as an opportunity to lean in and press myself up against him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Hi.”
“Hi.” The long, slow swallow he gives is deeply gratifying to my ego. There, see? He’s into this. I’m not just some weirdo throwing myself at him.
I wait for him to make the next move, but he just holds me, one big hand burning through my thin cami, as his eyes search mine. He’s still looking more resolved than turned on , which wounds my pride a bit, but I suck it up. Closing the little bit of remaining distance between us, I stand on my tiptoes and move my mouth against his.
I’m expecting to have to coax Kimo into it, at least a little, but his response is almost immediate. His mouth meets mine eagerly, one hand coming up to grip my hair, tilting my head back so he can deepen the kiss. As his warm tongue strokes against mine, we stumble back until he guides me over to the counter. He lifts me so I’m perched on its edge, and I eagerly wrap my legs around his torso, cinching him in closer to me.
To my surprise, Kimo draws in a steadying breath as he pulls back from the kiss. He meets my gaze, offering me a lopsided smile. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was about to tell me he isn’t feeling it—which I know isn’t true, since just seconds ago I could feel his heart thrumming against mine, and other parts of him thrumming against me just as enthusiastically, too.
“You have a thing for bathrooms, huh?” he asks me as he strokes his warm fingers over the back of my neck.
I blink at him in surprise. That is not where I was expecting him to go. “Not really.” I guess I can see why he might think otherwise, but honestly? I’m having to exercise incredible willpower not to think too much about just how many germs must be in here. Men are notoriously disgusting, after all, never picking up after themselves, leaving splatter on the seat...
Despite myself, a sudden thought crosses my mind, and I frown at him. “Why didn’t you flush?”
It’s Kimo’s turn to blink at me, which turns into a furrowed brow of confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I was listening in the hall, waiting for the all clear. But you never flushed.”
I realize how creepy that sounds only after I say it out loud. Kimo’s eyebrows notch up a bit, but he doesn’t comment on the fact that I just admitted to listening at the door. “I used the urinal.”
I should just leave it at that. But I’m a bloodhound on the scent now, and my curiosity must be resolved. “Don’t urinals flush?”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head a moment before meeting my gaze. “Some do. These ones are flush-less. See? No handles.”
I crane my neck around him to confirm that, indeed, the urinals do not appear to flush. “Huh. What’s the point of that? Won’t they need to be cleaned more?”
“It’s supposed to be better for the environment. Less water.”
Too late, I realize this might be the single unsexiest conversation that two people have ever had in the history of human communication. I look back at Kimo, waiting half a beat before trying to lean in for another kiss, to recapture that electricity we had just a minute ago.
He pulls back, leaning his forehead against mine. “I think I’m good for now. That was nice, before. Thank you.”
That was... nice ? Nice is letting someone cut in line at the grocery store because they only have a few items, or seeing a flower grow unexpectedly out of a crack in the sidewalk. Nice is not making out with a hot blonde in an empty bathroom.
I’m not about to take that one lying down. “Are you into this or not?” I demand. “Because you’re flip-flopping even more than your alleged gym shoes.”
Kimo runs a soothing hand down my spine. “I’m into this. I just want to take it slow. Get to know each other.”
Somehow, this is even more offensive than the last thing he said to me. “Why?”
“That’s what you do when you’re dating, right? Get to know each other.”
It’s my turn to let my eyebrows shoot up; I can feel them practically reaching my hairline. “You think this is dating?”
He shrugs. “Sure. Why not? I like you. You like me.”
“No, I don’t!” I protest, shoving against his chest to get him to back up a step. He does. “And we are not dating . That’s absurd. We haven’t even been on a date.”
“So, let’s go on one. What are you doing this weekend?”
I shake my head at him, more violently than I mean to. It leaves me a little dizzy, honestly. “That’s not the point! We don’t have anything in common. This is not some romance thing. It’s just sex.”
For a long beat, Kimo says nothing, just stares at me. Then he sighs, shaking his head. “Look, if this had happened a year ago, I’d be super into it. You’re smoking hot, even if you are a little pushy.”
A weird squawking noise that I don’t even recognize erupts from my throat in protest. “ Pushy? ”
Kimo carries on without missing a beat. “But things are different now. I’m trying to be a dad for my niece and nephew, trying to be what I think a man should really be. I can’t do the no-strings thing anymore. I want someone I can share my life with, be partners with. Someone who will have my back when things get tough. Someone to celebrate with when things are good. A life partner. Matching Adirondack chairs on the back deck. All of it.”
My first cynical knee-jerk response is that he’s just saying all this to try to get laid. Except...I offered him the chance to get laid, and he turned it down, because apparently he wants...true love?
Who even is this man?
Before I can respond, someone begins pushing open the bathroom door. “We’re busy in here,” I snap at them without looking over. “Come back later.”
I see Kimo’s face blanch. He grabs my wrist, pulling me away from the door and behind him.
I’m too surprised to protest. Much. “What are you—?” It’s only once I’m behind Kimo’s broad back that I see who’s at the door.
Two men, dressed all in black and wearing ski masks. Both of them holding guns.