Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
RAY
“Miss Kaya is going to love my room.” Tucker does a little jig across the kitchen before he grabs his apron from the hook near the pantry.
“Did you clean your room like I asked?”
He nods with too much enthusiasm. “Yep. Spick and span.” He lifts a hand and ticks off items on his fingers as he says them. “Clothes are in the basket. I made my bed. Kind of. Games and toys put away. Comics stacked on my shelf. Desk is clean.”
Sometimes, your kid needs a little extra motivation. As in someone he thinks highly of coming over to your house and potentially seeing how neat and tidy—or not—you are.
“Good job, bud. Thank you.”
Asking Kaya to have dinner with me took more courage than I anticipated. Sorting out the details before I messaged her had proven to be a minor challenge.
The last time I had a legitimate date was when Tucker was still with Brianna. There was no need to ask my family to look after him. There was zero potential of my parents prying into my personal life. Had I asked them to watch Tucker tonight, it would have been different. Sure, they would’ve said yes. They love him and would do anything for him. But their yes would’ve been followed by a barrage of questions as to why.
At thirty-six, I should be able to tell my parents I’m dating. Tell them a woman caught my eye. But I can’t. I won’t.
For over a decade, my parents paraded my sister around like a prize poodle. Tried to marry her off to a son of the Seven. All for notoriety and status. And last year, it backfired in their faces. Cataclysmically.
With the exception of Brianna, I’ve kept my relationships quiet. Had I not become a father, I’d have remained tight-lipped about her, too.
I love my parents. I love our small family. But their meddling is an unwelcome intrusion I’d rather live without.
So, I came up with a better date night idea.
Yesterday afternoon, I sat down with Tucker and asked if it was okay if Kaya came over for a special dinner. The way his face instantly lit up made my eyes sting. I anticipated him asking questions. Mentally prepared to give him honest answers. And to my surprise, only a couple of his questions made my stomach cramp and twist.
“Is Miss Kaya going to be your wife?”
“Will she be my new mom?”
So much hope sparkled in his hazel eyes as he waited for my answers. It gutted me to be candid and tell him no, that Kaya and I are only friends. His smile vanished, and he deflated faster than his pool floaties. His dejection was a dull blade to the heart. A sadness I was tempted to erase with empty promises.
Wanting to be more than Kaya’s friend isn’t a lie. Saying I’m ready to be more would be, though.
I could give Tucker false hope. But I won’t.
If Kaya and I are never more than this—two people madly attracted to each other—and I lie to him, he may never forgive me. He’d never believe a word I say. I’d be labeled untrustworthy. A betrayer. He’d grow to resent me.
And I refuse to be another parent he loses confidence in.
I’d rather him feel the sting of truth now than the debilitating pain and heartache of careless lies later.
After our talk, I messaged Kaya and said Tucker would join us. Then I tossed out the idea of her coming to the house if she was comfortable with it. Texts suck at inflection, but her response came across as excited.
Since this morning, Tucker and I have been busy. Between tidying the house, running to the store for last-minute ingredients, and food prep, there hasn’t been much downtime.
Tucker steps onto the short stool beside me and watches as I dice red onion for the salad. “Can I help?”
“Of course, bud.”
I fetch another cutting board from the cabinet and lay it in front of him. Grab the paring knife from the magnetic block on the wall and set it on his board, but keep it covered with my hand.
“This knife is very sharp. You have to pay attention to what you’re doing when it’s in your hand. If you don’t, someone could get hurt, including you.”
Lips in a flat line and expression serious, he meets my gaze. “I promise to be extra careful.”
“Always keep your eyes on the knife and your hands.”
“I will.” He nods.
Erring on the side of caution, at least until he gets used to the knife, I give him a cut-resistant glove to wear. “Put this on the hand not holding the knife.” The last thing we need right now is to visit the emergency room.
Once he’s gloved up, I demonstrate how to cut the broccoli florets. Rapt, he focuses on every move. I tell him not to rush—that’s how accidents happen. After I’ve chopped a few florets into bite-size pieces, Tucker takes over. While he cuts broccoli, I dice cucumber, avocado, apple, and grape tomatoes. I rough-chop walnuts and set them aside to be sprinkled on at the end.
Tucker adds all the ingredients into a large wooden bowl as the doorbell chimes through the house.
Wood scrapes tile as he hops off his stool. “She’s here! She’s here! She’s here!” Ripping the glove from his hand, he bolts for the front door.
“Hold up, bud.” I jog after him. “Let’s not scare her before she’s in the house.” I chuckle.
Too excited to contain himself, Tucker whips open the front door with a bright, toothy smile on his face. Before either of them says hello, Tucker rushes Kaya and wraps his arms around her waist.
I grumble under my breath, “Tucker…” My eyes dart up and find Kaya’s surprised but happy expression, and I mouth, “Sorry.”
Kaya shakes her head, mouthing, “It’s fine.” Her hand skates up and down his back, gentle and comforting. “Hi, Tucker.”
Inching back, he unravels himself from her waist. “Hi, Miss Kaya.” He beams up at her. “We’re making dinner for you.” Her hand in his, he yanks her inside. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
“T-Man,” I say a bit louder to catch his attention. He pauses and looks over his shoulder. “Let’s give Kaya a moment to set her stuff down.”
His brow crinkles in momentary confusion. Then he nods, and his expression smooths out. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry.”
Kaya sets her bag down on the chair in the foyer. “You don’t need to apologize, Tucker. It’s okay to be excited.” She toes off her shoes and scoots them under the chair. Then she leans a little closer to him and lowers her voice. “Can I tell you a secret?”
His eyes widen as he slowly closes the distance.
“I’m excited too.”
Warmth cocoons me as I witness their exchange. An unfamiliar flutter erupts in my chest. Breathless, speechless, I watch them in complete awe. Utterly enthralled.
It’s one thing for me to be physically and intellectually attracted to Kaya. But seeing her easy relationship with Tucker and his thrill at having her here opens a hidden door deep inside me, a place with countless possibilities.
Falling in love is the easy part. Falling for someone who accepts you after you’ve been emotionally wrecked is tricky.
Not that I’m ready for love. Too much emotional baggage still left unpacked.
But seeing these little moments with Kaya and Tucker… damn, it’d be easy to fall for this woman. Hard.
Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, a faint huff under his breath, Tucker glances up. “Can I take her to the kitchen now?”
Ruffling his hair, I chuckle. “Sure, bud.”
I follow in their wake, eyes locked on their joined hands. Bewildered. Rapt.
Adulation blooms in my chest and molds itself around my heart. Makes me dizzy, unsteady. I reach for the wall as the ground wobbles beneath my feet. Inhale a steadying breath then continue forward.
They disappear around the corner, and something twists inside me. I brace against the wall again. Close my eyes as anxiety swirls beneath my diaphragm and inches up my throat. Pinch my eyes tighter and take another deep breath. Press the heel of my hand to the center of my chest and ease my eyes open.
Fuck, am I screwed.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I push off the wall, straighten my spine, and put one foot in front of the other.
When I reach the kitchen, Tucker is on his stool again, adding salad ingredients to the bowl and narrating his work to Kaya. She gives him her undivided attention, asks what he cut, praises his work, and offers to help.
Completely and utterly screwed.
I set out everything for the salad dressing and tell Tucker how to make it. While he and Kaya whip it together, I distract myself with the main entrée—braised Korean short ribs, paprika and lime crushed potatoes, and brown-sugar-glazed, slow-roasted root vegetables. Short ribs have been in the slow cooker since midmorning. Root vegetables went into the oven before I started on the salad. The only thing left is the potatoes.
Carrying the pot of boiled potatoes to the sink, I strain them in the colander. Give them time to cool while I fetch a sheet pan. Then I load them on the pan, grab the potato masher, and crush each one until it’s flat.
In my periphery, I spot the occasional glance from Kaya. The corner of my mouth twitches the longer her gaze lingers. Her unabashed staring while I do what I love is a heady rush. An incomparable high.
I want her twinkling, addictive eyes always on me, o nly on me .
Pivoting, I grab the sauce pot from the stove and drizzle garlic and herb-clarified butter over the potatoes. Sprinkle them with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper. Then pop them in the oven with the root vegetables.
“Did I do it right?” Tucker tilts the bowl in my direction.
I make a show of inspecting the simple vinaigrette. “It’s perfect, bud.”
“Yes!” He does a small fist pump.
I ruffle his hair, then kiss the top of his head. “Why don’t you show Kaya your room while I clean up.”
“Let me help,” Kaya insists.
Lopsided smile on my face, I shake my head. “Not a chance. You’re our guest. Go.” I tip my head toward Tucker. “Let him show you around. His room has never been this clean.” I chuckle.
“Are you sure?” Kaya glances at the stack of dishes. “I don’t mind helping. It’s the least I can do.”
“Positive. I’m used to my kitchen messes. I’ll have it cleared in no time.”
Tucker hops off his stool, yanks his apron strings loose and tugs it off over his head. Hanging it back on the hook, he sidles up to Kaya, takes her hand, and starts for the staircase.
“You’re going to love my room, Miss Kaya. Dad let me decorate it with my favorite things. I’ll show you. Come on.”
Just before she rounds the corner, Kaya gives me a what-did-I-get-myself-into smile.
I simply shrug. Good luck.
When their footfalls quiet, I inhale deeply, hold my breath and count to five, then slowly release it. Can’t remember the last time I felt this… discombobulated. Thrown off. Indecisive on whether I should listen to my logic-spewing brain or my wild, exuberant, impulsive heart.
As I clean the kitchen, I mentally scribble a pros and cons list. Mull over worst-case scenarios if things went nowhere or ended with Kaya. Daydream what a real romance would be like—to have a loving, caring partner, someone you feel incomplete without, someone who adores and loves your child as if they were their own.
Pro: Tucker looks up to Kaya. He cares about her opinions. A lot.
Con: If Kaya and I go separate ways for whatever reason, Tucker will be devastated.
Pro: No awkward conversations about being a single dad. No need to explain Tucker will always come first.
Con: With Kaya’s education, she may be more suitable to guide children than parent one. Maybe.
Pro: She’s so damn beautiful. Otherworldly gorgeous.
Con: I have trouble thinking clearly when she is in the room. Which could lead to countless, unwise decisions.
Pro: She is as attracted to me as I am her, and it isn’t swift lust that fades after a short time.
What I feel for Kaya is this perfect blend of magnetism, temptation, and something primal. An undeniable compulsion deep in my bones. An inarguable instinct I can’t shake. An irrefutable urge to make her mine in every way that matters.
Even if it scares me to no end.
I load the last pot into the dishwasher and wipe down the counters. As I go to set the table, I pause and recenter myself. Take a meditative breath and clear my mind of its frenzied thoughts.
One step at a time. Focus on dinner and tonight.
I repeat this as I add plates to each place setting, as I set silverware on cloth napkins, as I put empty glasses on the upper right corner of each place mat.
Don’t get ahead of yourself. Hasty decisions equal disaster.
Sweet and savory waft up my nose as I take the pans out of the oven. Rich umami floats through the air, my stomach growling when I take the lid off the slow cooker. As I transfer everything to serving dishes, Tucker bounds down the stairs with Kaya in tow.
“Smells absolutely divine in here.” Kaya steps into the kitchen, her radiant smile aimed in my direction.
My inner zen becomes a distant memory. One compliment, all logic goes out the window. One dazzling smile, my uninhibited heart takes over.
Instead of fighting what I feel, instead of overthinking, I let go. Give myself over to instinct and float on.
Dinner passes in easy conversation about cooking school, Kaya’s time at the rec center, and Tucker sharing his favorite summer activities. At one point, he asks if I’ll sign him up for the rec center summer program. After I explain how he’d miss cooking school and time with my parents, he says to sign him up next year.
I sit across from Kaya and ogle her more than a friend would. But I don’t miss how often her eyes meet and hold mine. Don’t miss how often she hides her smile. Or how often that delicious blush stains her cheeks.
Tucker helps clear the table after dinner and brings out dessert—which he selected and assisted in making. It’s one of Mom’s old recipes from the early days of RJ’s Diner before Calhoun’s Confections opened. A beloved favorite at the diner Dad keeps on the menu.
“What’s this?” Kaya holds up her plate and studies the layered treat.
“Heaven in a pan,” Tucker announces. “It’s Grandma’s special recipe.” He presses a finger to his lips. “Shh. You can’t share it with anyone.”
I chuckle.
“Promise I won’t tell a soul.” Kaya draws an X over her heart.
When Tucker rushes back to the kitchen for forks, I let Kaya in on a secret. “Actually, Mom calls it sex in a pan,” I whisper. “For obvious reasons, we don’t tell Tucker that.”
A stunning shade of red paints her cheeks, neck, and exposed chest. She tucks her chin and swallows.
My dick twitches behind my zipper.
I doubt Kaya is innocent , but damn do I love her reactions.
“I…” She clears her throat, then takes a sip of water. “I understand why.”
As she eats dessert, I openly stare at her. Fisting the napkin in my lap, I relish the way her eyes roll closed for a second after each bite. Revel in the way her lips wrap around the fork before she slowly slides it from her mouth.
I want to tell her what those small reactions do to me. The way she heats my blood. Makes me bite back moans. Has me eager to reach across the table and touch her.
But I don’t say a word. Somehow, I maintain my composure and keep my hands to myself. I ignore my aching dick and focus on the current conversation.
“Can we watch my new superhero movie?” Tucker asks, mouth full, voice garbled.
“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, bud.”
He takes a sip of water then flashes me his whoops wince. “Sorry.”
I glance at Kaya for a beat before meeting Tucker’s waiting gaze. “Not sure if Kaya likes superheroes. Or if she’ll stay to watch.”
Guilt claws at my chest for the last part, but I deserve it.
This date is so different from any other. I have no idea if Kaya plans to leave after dessert. If she wants to watch a movie. But I hope she’ll stay.
Kaya scoops up the last of her dessert. “Depends.” She brings the fork to her lips. “Which superhero is it?” She pops the bite in her mouth.
Damn, I love her lips.
“The newest Spider-Man movie.” Tucker bounces in his seat.
“Ooh.” Kaya wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Hard to say no to Spider-Man.”
“So, you’ll stay?”
She reaches for Tucker’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Yes, I’ll stay.”
Chair legs grate against the tile as Tucker bolts out of his seat and wiggles his butt.
“Think I gave him too much dessert,” I tease, and Kaya laughs. “Tucker, take your plate to the kitchen and wash up, please.”
Without a word, he scurries to the kitchen.
“You don’t have to stay,” I whisper. I want her to stay. Damn, do I want her to. But I practically guilted her into it. And I don’t want her to think she has to if that’s not what she wants.
“I know.” A gentle smile tugs at the corners of her perfect mouth. “But I want to.” A faint swish filters through the air as Kaya gently glides her seat away from the table. She gathers her plate, fork, and napkin and starts for the kitchen.
Up and out of my chair, I step in front of her and cup her elbow. “I’ve got it.” The buzz from earlier makes a reappearance. Humming. Pulsing. Dancing over my skin. I stop breathing as the air crackles between us.
Fuck, I want to kiss her.
Her lips part. A soft gasp hits my ears.
She feels it too .
She wants to kiss me too .
I inch closer, my fingers drifting up her arm. One breath, then another. She’s close. So damn close. All I have to do is lean forward a few inches. Erase the last little bit of space between us. Press my lips to hers.
In three erratic heartbeats, her breath paints my skin. Every cell in my body vibrates as I close my eyes, lean forward, and duck my chin to meet her lips.
“Dad, can I have popcorn?” Tucker shouts from the kitchen.
My eyes fly open and lock onto Kaya’s hypnotic gaze. Ignoring the impulse to steal a kiss, I inch back, lick my lips, and swallow. Neither of us moves, breathes, looks away.
“Dad!”
I chuckle, and Kaya grins. “Yes, Tucker, you can have popcorn.”
“Yay!”
I take Kaya’s dishes then collect my own. “Go relax in the living room. I’ll be there in a moment. Need to make sure he doesn’t burn the popcorn.”
She laughs, but it’s different—soft, nervous. “Smart plan. Do you need me to cue the movie?”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “Want anything to drink? Wine, tea, water?”
She holds up a hand and pinches her thumb and forefinger together. “A little wine would be nice.”
I get to the kitchen in time and stop Tucker from using the microwave’s popcorn button, which is unreliable. I send him out to the living room with the important task of readying the movie while I make his snack.
When I meet them in the living room, Tucker has the lights off and the movie up. My heart catapults as I cross the room and take the only available spot on the couch… next to Kaya.
If I make it through the next two hours without touching her, it’ll be a miracle.
Tucker presses play and then sticks out his hands for the popcorn. I pass it over then hand Kaya a glass of wine. She takes a considerable gulp before setting it down, and I resist the urge to laugh.
The first half hour is filled with endless commentary from Tucker. I don’t think anything of it, but wonder if it bothers Kaya. When I peek at her, she appears unfazed.
I do my best to focus on the movie, to keep my eyes forward, but fail miserably. Less than a foot separates us, her hands in her lap while I drape an arm over the back of the couch. I drink the last of my wine then set my glass next to hers on the table.
As I sit back, my arm on the back of the couch caresses her shoulders. My skin prickles as that delicious buzz returns. Like an incoming tide, it rolls up my arm again and again. I roll my eyes shut and revel in the current. Let it take over.
But it’s her sharp inhale that knocks me sideways.
That she feels this every time too… it seals my fate. Terrified as I am to pursue whatever this is with Kaya, I’d be an idiot to ignore it.
Tucker talks less over the movie. When a solid twenty minutes pass without commentary, I chance a look at him. Curled up with a pillow, jaw slack, his soft snores masked by the movie, Tucker is passed out.
I ease off the couch, take the bowl from his lap and set it on the table, then hoist Tucker into my arms. “Be right back.”
Kaya nods.
Up the stairs, I pad down the short hallway for Tucker’s room. Peel back the covers and lay him down. And as I tuck him in, he mutters something incoherent about missing the movie.
“We’ll watch it again, bud,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” I kiss his forehead.
“Love you, Daddy.”
My heart melts. When he’s alert, Tucker calls me Dad. But it’s these sweet, sleepy moments I love most. The ones where he’s a touch more innocent. More the younger boy he didn’t get to be while with his mother. The times when he calls me Daddy.
“Love you, T-Man.”
As I back out of his room, he rolls onto his side and starts snoring again. I envy how easily he falls asleep now. After Brianna left him with me, he struggled to sleep for weeks. He never told me why, but I have a feeling it’s the colorful company Brianna keeps. Plus, I was a stranger to him.
Knowing he feels safe enough to be vulnerable now is the best gift.
When I reach the first floor, Kaya is carrying our glasses to the kitchen. I pivot and follow her. “You didn’t need to do that.”
She sets them in the sink then turns to face me. “I know, but I wanted to.”
The world stills as I shuffle closer to her. As I close the distance. Gazes locked, we soak up the sight of each other. Time passes in shaky, swift breaths and trembling hands. The longer we stay like this—inches apart and practically vibrating—the more I want to kiss her.
“Should head home,” she whispers without an ounce of conviction. “Early day for us both tomorrow.”
Against every greedy cell in my body, I take a step back. “Let me walk you out.”
A thick, pulsing cloud of repressed desire blankets us as we walk to the foyer, as she slips on her shoes and collects her bag, as we cross the driveway to her car. In step with her the entire way, my fingers twitch at my side, eager to touch her. To get another hit of that delicious buzz.
A beep bounces off the trees as she unlocks the car, followed by a soft click as she opens the door and sets her bag inside. Unable to bear another second without touching her, I step into her orbit. A gasp echoes in the night as she spins around, her breasts grazing my chest. Barely a breath exists between us as her eyes glitter in the moonlight.
“I want to kiss you,” I confess.
Lips parted, her chest rises and falls faster, her nipples hard beneath her top. Iridescent eyes on mine, her tongue peeks out and wets her lips.
“Can I kiss you, Kaya?”
Time stops until she gives the slightest nod.
“Need to hear you say it, Fire Eyes.” The nickname rolls off my tongue as if I’ve said it a thousand times and not just the once.
“Yes,” she answers a breath above a whisper, and it’s all I need to hear.
Pressing into her, I cup her cheeks and lower my mouth to hers. Soft, warm lips meet mine. So delicate. So perfect. My eyes roll shut as an inferno sweeps through me and annihilates the buzz from earlier. Somehow, I don’t lose control. Somehow, I suppress the moan begging for release.
I press a chaste kiss to her lips. Then another. And another.
She clutches my hips, her fingers gently fisting my shirt. With a faint tug, she pulls me impossibly closer. Presses her body flush to the length of mine.
She’s everywhere. Invading all my senses.
Hands drifting to the nape of her neck, I thread my fingers through her hair. My tongue darts out and licks the seam of her lips, silently asking for more. To taste her.
She fists my shirt harder. Gives another tug. Then parts her lips and invites me in.
I moan without shame as I deepen the kiss. As I stroke her tongue with mine and taste her for the first time. As I memorize the feel of my body molded with hers. The kiss feels infinite and everlasting, yet fleeting and meager.
Fingers curling in her hair, I turn her head and plunge deeper. Lick and stroke and suck and taste until I don’t know which way is up.
I want more. Need more. Crave more.
But I stop myself from taking the next step.
Not tonight .
Against every carnal cell in my body, I break the kiss but don’t stop touching her. I’m not ready to.
I rest my forehead on hers. Toy with her hair as my other hand caresses the length of her spine. Catch my breath and give her a moment to do the same. Her fingers skim my lower back a beat before her arms circle my waist and hold me to her.
“Could kiss you forever, Fire Eyes.” I drop my lips to hers, needing one last taste tonight.
“I won’t stop you.” Her admission takes me by surprise.
Groaning, I inch back. “I’ll do my best to remember that.” I press my lips to her forehead and keep them there a moment. “Don’t want to, but I should let you go,” I pout.
A tremor ripples from her chest as she laughs. Her grip on me loosens, her arms slinking back to her sides.
Unable to resist, I drop my mouth to hers. Kiss her again, then force myself to take a step back. “Go. Before I don’t let you leave,” I tease.
She slips into the driver’s seat, an indefinite smile on her lips. “Good night, Chef .” She closes the door and starts the car.
The way Chef rolls off her tongue makes my dick weep.
I’ll deal with you soon enough.
Rooted in place as she backs out of the driveway, I wave, and she mimics the gesture. Until her brake lights disappear through the trees, my feet don’t unstick themselves.
When I walk through the front door, the subtle scent of her perfume hits me immediately. A sweet, earthy rose fragrance that makes my blood sing. I cross the room, sit on the couch, pick up the throw pillow she was closest to, bring it to my nose and inhale. Any sane person would call me a creep for doing it. But I give zero fucks.
Falling for anyone, falling for Kaya, scares the hell out of me.
But disregarding what I feel for her, not giving whatever this is between us a chance, downright petrifies me.