Chapter 10
I stare at the screen. She reached out. Thank fuck.
When I arrive at her house, I find her in the kitchen and do a double take.
Damn. I’m not used to seeing her all dolled up and wasn’t prepared for the wicked vision of her in that dress, with her bare back on display.
She’s a smokeshow. Kelly’s too busy taking out her aggression on some Oreos with a meat tenderizing mallet to notice me staring.
One after another, she pulverizes the cookies between two layers of paper towel.
Something must have gone down at Jason’s place. Pity.
Thoughts and prayers, asshole.
“Wow, look at you,” I comment.
Kelly spins around when she hears my voice. Her makeup is a little smudged; it has me imagining all the ways I could smear it more. This woman is a fucking bombshell. Her head tips to the side with a wistful smile. “Logan, those tarot cards . . .”
She trudges over to me and wraps her arms around my middle and holds me in a hug. I rest my hands on her lower back, brushing my knuckles over the exposed skin; she’s softer than silk.
“Only you know how much that means to me,” she says, her voice muffled into my shirt. “Thank you.” I don’t remember the last time anyone has held me like this before. The scent of fresh oranges in her hair is intoxicating.
“I’m glad you liked them.”
“I love them.” She withdraws from my arms.
My eyes catch on the open bottle of wine on the countertop behind her. I was too distracted by her figure to see it earlier, but there’s not a glass to be found. I nod to the cabernet and scattered cookie crumbs. “Wanna talk about all that?”
“Ugh!” she grunts, spinning around and walking back toward the scene of the crime. “Not really.” She wraps her plump lips around the rim of the wine bottle and takes a pull, then hands it to me. I take a sip of the half-full bottle.
“I’m not even that upset we broke up!” She raises the mallet. “Isn’t that fucked?” She slams it back down, obliterating the cookies. They never stood a fucking chance.
Kelly broke up with him. I’ve had plenty of practice hiding my emotions over the years, and right now, it’s paying off. Hell, I’m out performing half of Hollywood right now.
Stepping forward and brushing up against her back, I delicately pry the weapon from her clenched fingers. “How about I handle this and you grab us some bowls?”
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Yeah, okay.”
She goes up on her tiptoes, and the delicious shape of her ass is put on display as she reaches for the ceramic dishes in the overhead cabinet. Not tonight.
Doesn’t stop me from appreciating her curves, though. It’s almost as if the universe is rewarding me for taking their breakup off its to-do list. A spectacular view in exchange for services rendered.
Dusk—that magical hour of the day where everything is bathed in the summer sun’s last golden rays. We sit shoulder to shoulder on her front stoop enjoying our ice cream. Vanilla with crushed Oreos. Oreos she pulverized in a rage-spiral over Jason—which is my new favorite flavor.
I nod toward the wine bottle next to her, the one she’s been toting around like a security blanket. “You shouldn’t drink alone when you’re sad.”
“I’m not sad, I’m angry. And besides, that’s why you’re here.” She tips the bottle in my direction. “Are you trying to be my human wine stopper?”
“Maybe . . . Tight fit. Goes in deep. Shoved in at just the right moment when you think you just can’t take anymore . . .” I muse.
She snorts, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Drunk giggles spill out of her to the point that she starts tipping sideways, and I have to wrap an arm around her middle to keep her from falling.
Good. The less heartbreak I need to remedy, the smoother this will go.
She’s hurting, and I should probably feel bad about that—but I can’t help but revel in the beauty of it all.
Frankly, I’m thriving.
The cool evening breeze rolls in, sending a wave of goose bumps up her arms. I shrug off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. She tugs it closer to her body.
“He didn’t even have an excuse!” she argues, recalling the events of tonight and plunging her spoon back into the bowl. “I think I’m more annoyed with myself.”
“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I should have seen it coming. Been more aware. You told me he wasn’t good enough. You saw it. Hell, the fucking tarot spread even knew he couldn’t be trusted. I really thought he was going to turn into something more. We were barely together a couple months. Isn’t that pathetic?”
“No. Jason is pathetic.”
She sighs. “I think my bar is too low.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “You need to remember you’re Kelly fucking Everhart and stop settling for less.”
She gives me a funny look, tilting her head to the side.
“What?” I chuckle.
Her eyes narrow, and she returns to her ice cream. “Nothing.”
“The bar for men is in hell . . .” She groans, scraping at her bowl. “Did you know he bought me the wrong birthstone?”
There was a necklace sitting on the counter; that must be from him. I can’t take credit there, he fucked that one up all on his own. “Seriously? One Google search to know it’s emerald.”
“Yup.” She takes another drink of wine. “And doubled down when I corrected him, like, full conviction.” She does a little shiver. “Ugh, I just want to wash him off me.”
I set down my bowl, leaning back to fish my phone and stylus from my pocket, then open my drawing app.
“Maybe you need a break from dating . . .” I sketch out a penis, then turn the screen toward her. “Don’t swipe on them if they look like this.”
Her lips slowly curl into a smile as she savors the bite of ice cream in her mouth. She sets down her dish and holds out her hand, gesturing for the device. I pass it to her, and she turns her back to me so I’m unable to watch.
Raising an eyebrow, I pick up my bowl and take another bite, peering down the street. A car is parked along the side, facing us. It pulled up a little bit ago, but I don’t think anyone has exited the vehicle; unfortunately, it’s too dark to make out the driver. Are we being watched?
Kelly spins around and shows me her masterpiece. It’s a much more realistic penis than the one I drew, though she’s dramatically shortened it.
“Mm-hmm,” I say, acknowledging her artwork while swallowing. “This Jason?”
“Part of Jason,” she mumbles under her breath.
“My condolences . . . On the bright side, much bigger and better things await you.”
She chuckles.
I glance at the drawing again. “All jokes aside, I can tell you’ve been practicing. You’ve got some talent when it comes to the male sexual organ.”
She takes a big spoonful of ice cream and signs, “My drawing skills are pretty good too.” I shake my head. Goddamn it, Chaos. She likes to sign while eating because It’s fun to talk with your mouth full.
“You’re going to get a brain freeze,” I sign my reply right as she scrunches her face and makes a painful noise. She leans into me, laughing. It’s contagious.
When it passes, she sits up and sighs, letting the silence stretch between us.
“Stop messing around with these temporary bros when you were built for a soul mate,” I mutter.
She slowly turns her head. “What did you just say?”
“Quit wasting your time with those guys you always go for.”
Kelly shakes her head. “No, the soul mate thing. It’s the second time you’ve mentioned something Dad brought up in his letter.”
“What was the other thing?”
“The Kelly fucking Everhart thing.”
I lift my shoulders. “Maybe fate thinks you need a reminder.”
She nods. “Yeah . . . maybe. Odd timing is all.”
“Got any plans this weekend?” I ask, changing the subject.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. Probably just get some stuff done in the attic.”
“Well, if you need a break from the fun, would you want to come by my place? I’d still like to photograph you for that series of paintings I have planned . . . That is, if you’re feeling up to it.”
Her eyes widen. “Sunday work?” she signs, chewing a piece of cookie.
“Sunday’s perfect,” I reply with my hands.
She grins down at her bowl, pushing around the last bites of ice cream. Without thinking, I cup her chin, turning her face toward me, and use my thumb to wipe away the bits of cookie dust at the corner of her mouth before sucking them off my finger.
Her lips are soft. Fuck, I can’t wait to kiss her.
I’ve spent years watching her, learning her habits, likes, and dislikes, yet there are still so many unknowns.
I’m desperate to know how she tastes . .
. the sounds she makes when she’s turned on .
. . the rhythm she prefers when she’s on top .
. . how long she can be edged before she shatters . . .
So many damn unknowns.
If I were to kiss her now, I’d only be an alcohol-induced rebound and our friendship would be fucked.
That said, as soon as her gaze drops to my mouth, I can’t pull away.
I’m drawn to her like a flame. I lean in a half centimeter and she does the same.
That’s when the car I was watching earlier peels out with a loud screech.
She jolts at the noise and jerks away. Shit.
“What the fuck was that?” she asks, looking in the direction of the blur that’s already out of sight.
That was way too close. I scrub a hand down my face. “I dunno.”
If it weren’t for that car, I might have risked it all and regretted it forever. I gotta get out of here.
One of these days, I’ll be able to kiss her gorgeous lips until they bruise under mine. However, I’m not a bandage for her temporary hurt over some passive distraction. I’m the reason she’ll never know heartbreak again.
“You’ve had a long day,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’ll clean up the killing field in the kitchen.”
She avoids eye contact with me. “You’re a great friend.”
I resist groaning. My favorite title—emotional support staff.
“So are you. Come on.” I nudge her and we stand together. After we stack our bowls on top of each other, she gives me another long hug. My palm cups the back of her neck, my thumb pressing three squeezes. “Go take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
Inside, I go to the left toward the mess, and she heads down the hallway on the right toward the bathroom and bedroom.
It’s not long before the sound of the shower echoes down the hall.
I smile, listening to her hum a song while I wash our dishes in the sink and wipe up the abundance of crumbs littering the countertop.
As soon as the kitchen is sparkling, I make my way to the bathroom.
Steam pours from the cracked opening. I poke my finger against the hollow wood door enough to widen the gap and watch her blurred silhouette through the textured glass as she rinses her hair.
My dick strains against my zipper as if there’s something I can do about it.
Her beauty is cruel. The kind that could ruin a man—and I’m on my knees begging to be destroyed.
Kelly’s phone sits within reach on the bathroom counter, so I swipe it and unlock it with her code: Clyde’s birthday.
She uses it for everything. I block Jason’s phone number and any other method he might have of contacting her.
Then I add a location tracker. Once I’ve finished syncing it to my phone, I lock her screen and place it on the bathroom counter exactly how she had it.
I spy on her until she turns off the water, and then I back out of the hallway and slip out the door.