Chapter 28
chapter
twenty-eight
NATE
The scene is the same—Teagan’s clapping and dancing with Maren in the kitchen. Their laughs drift throughout the house. The smell of chocolate hangs over us like clouds of bliss.
But Maren’s different.
Her smile is easy and bright. The sway of her hips as she launches into the dance moves is carefree. She has a glow in her cheeks like she swallowed a firefly, and I’m fucking mesmerized.
When she bends over to retrieve the cookies from the oven, her loose tee rides up her back, revealing golden, velvet skin. Her eyes sparkle as she presents them to Teagan, waving her arm over the baked goods in theatrical gestures like she’s announcing the discovery of long-lost treasure.
Maren is usually like this when she bakes, but tonight, all of it is amplified, like she turned up the volume on her energy.
Teagan jumps in victory from Maren’s compliment—something about a gooey middle and a crispy edge.
Their words funnel through me like I’m listening through a wall.
I’m in awe of the pair and their obvious bond. I’m honored to be witnessing it.
Simultaneously, the ache in my gut burrows itself even deeper inside my core, like a rig drilling for oil. Maybe it’s because I’m too aware that these kinds of afternoons will probably come to an end after the Thanksgiving Bake-Off.
Why can’t this be our lives beyond that? How much better would every day be with the three of us?
The possibilities are endless. Lazy Saturdays on the porch, drinking coffee with Maren and waving to the other neighbors while Teagan plays in the yard.
Maren joining us for Nerf War Sundays.
Hosting friends and family on Friday nights for dinner and board games.
This house would be full, just as it was always meant to be.
“Daddy?” Teagan stands in front of me, her apron tossed over her shoulder like a cape. “What’s wrong? Can you hear me?”
I blink at her, then glance over her shoulder. Maren’s brows are furrowed, concern etched into her expression.
“Are you okay?” Teagan shakes my arm and searches my face.
I force a swallow to wet my dry throat. “Of course, kiddo. I was just… I was thinking about our, um, Nerf war this weekend.”
“What about it?” She slants her head.
“What if we…” I stand from my chair and jostle my legs loose, jerking myself out of my yearning trance for the beautiful woman in my kitchen. “What if we took it outside? It’s supposed to be nice.”
Teagan throws her fist into the air. “Yes!”
“Yoo-hoo.” My mother’s voice drifts through the hall, followed by the click of the front door. In a flurry of yellows and pinks, she appears in the kitchen, her eyes twinkling as she looks from me to Maren and back. “This baking thing turned out to be a great ideal, didn’t it?”
It doesn’t seem like she’s asking anyone in particular. It actually seems like she’s referring to something else entirely, but none of us respond.
Instead, Teagan backs up to Maren, who unties her apron. “I’m ready, Nan-Nan.”
“Ready for what?” Did I miss something while I was daydreaming?
“It’s Wednesday.” Mom blinks at me.
“Okay…” I still don’t get it.
“Dance lessons, Daddy!” Teagan hikes her hands high onto her hips. “I told you last night.”
“Oh, right, right.” I nod, slowly catching up. I vaguely recall the conversation as I tucked her into bed. “Sorry, it was late last night.”
“Was it past your bedtime?” Teagan teases, and it makes me smile.
“Let’s put it this way, sweetheart—if you tell him anything past eight, he’ll forget.” My mom snorts.
“Ha-ha. I’m really old—we know,” I play along, folding my arms across my chest.
“Miss Addie is going to help me practice, so I can dance in the Christmas recital.” Teagan flashes a bright, proud grin.
“That’s great, kiddo. I can’t wait.” I kiss her forehead, and I’ve barely pulled back before she bolts for the door.
Over her shoulder, she calls, “Thanks, Miss Maren!”
Smiling, Maren shouts back, “Have fun.” Then she turns in place, this way and that. “I’ll clean up and get going too.”
“Why don’t you stay?” my mom chimes in, as if this is still her house and she’s invited Maren to stay as her guest. “Have a glass of wine. Eat those lovely cookies. And enjoy the night. It’s rather delightful out there.”
“I’ll take it from here, Mom.” I nudge her back the way she came.
The sound of Teagan hopping around grows louder and louder as she becomes more restless to go. She clearly has plenty of energy for dance lessons, which makes me wonder how many cookies she had before I arrived.
“Of course.” Mom throws her hands up, the rings decorating her fingers glimmering under the lights.
When the front door shuts, silence closes in around Maren and me.
Instantly, my body buzzes with awareness that we’re alone. All I want to do is wrap her in my arms and sweep her off her feet with a kiss so firm that she’d feel the weight of my lips on hers for days.
My eye twitches from the obscene self-restraint I’m practicing.
“Wine wasn’t a bad idea, huh?” I move around her, holding my breath. If I catch a whiff of her sweet scent, I might fucking wither into a pathetic heap of goo.
In front of the microwave, I stand on the balls of my feet to reach a bottle of red from the cabinet.
It’s the safest place for it, as this is the highest spot in the kitchen, so Teagan doesn’t happen across it.
The little girl’s curiosity expands through time and space, and I’m actually surprised she hasn’t found her way up here yet.
Presenting the unopened bottle to Maren, I say, “Addie brought this over as a housewarming gift. I was waiting for the perfect night to open it. What do you think?”
“That depends—is this the perfect night?” She lifts her brows.
“It’s about to be.” I smirk, which only grows wider when I catch her blushing before she dips her head. Why does this woman always try to hide from me?
She leans her hip on the edge of the counter. “I guess nothing could be more perfect than a house filled with the smell of cookies.”
“Pure magic.” I grab a corkscrew from the drawer and work the bottle open, silence encompassing us once again.
The quiet seconds build up to minutes as I pour us each a glass, the room thickening with much more than the smell of sweet treats.
“What were you really thinking about before?” she asks as she accepts a glass, her fingertips sliding against mine.
The spark from such minimal contact could ignite a wildfire.
“Hmm?” I blink.
“When you told Teagan you were considering an outdoor Nerf war, that wasn’t the truth.”
My eyes crinkle in the corners with an oncoming smile. “Says who?”
She squints at me over the rim of her glass as she takes a slow, taunting sip. She knows me too well. “Was it the dance studio? I hope I didn’t overstep by suggesting it. I just thought it would be fun for her.”
This pulls a full-on smile out of me. Maybe she doesn’t know me as well as she thinks—or she’s playing it safe by ignoring what’s really going on between us.
Maren licks the wine from her lips, then puts the last of the dirty dishes into the sink before she faces me again.
Her hands fidget with the hem of her tee.
“Addie mentioned openings at the studio, and I figured it might help Teagan meet more kids her age. Might also give her more confidence. Addie said it helped when she was that age.”
“That was very thoughtful. Thank you.” Emotion clogs my throat.
Maren was thinking about my daughter and what’s best for her. She cares about her, and it makes me want Maren that much more. I don’t think I can take wanting her more—I’ll fucking explode.
“Plus, she’s a great dancer. Have you seen those KPOP moves?”
I chuckle, angling myself toward her. “Oh, I’ve seen them every time she insists we watch KPOP Demon Hunters. I think we’re up to a hundred times now.”
“She definitely did not get her coordination from you,” Maren teases and grabs her glass again, mirroring my stance.
“Ouch. Hitting me where it hurts, Lightning.”
Something like appreciation flashes across her eyes, and her lips twitch. Knowing that she loves the nickname so much makes my head spin. I’ve broken out into a damn cold sweat.
“Have you really watched KPOP Demon Hunters?”
“Yes.” She shrugs, and her wistful smile warms me from the inside out. “Teagan suggested it, so I gave it a shot.”
This gives me pause yet again.
“I hope you find someone who loves Teagan like their own.”
Sabrina’s words skip through my mind, reminding me again how much Maren could be that someone. And God, do I want her to be.
She sips from her glass. Once again, she runs her tongue along her bottom lip, lapping up the rogue drops. How does she make the simple task of drinking wine so achingly sexy? I’m hanging on by a fucking thread.
“It reminds me of Cole and Phoebe from Charmed, honestly,” she says.
“You did love that show.”
“And now I love Huntrix. Nothing better to hype me up at four every morning.”
The thought of Maren blasting KPOP songs in her car before sunrise has me grinning like a loon.
“Now, I have to know one very important thing.” I meet her by the sink, my steps slow for dramatic effect. “Which one of the boy band is your favorite?”
She thrusts a finger into my chest. “That’s top secret, Mr. McAllister. You’d have to buy me dinner before I gave that away.”
I’ve never seen a woman blush so fast and hard.
With her cheeks furiously reddening by the nanosecond, Maren opens and closes her mouth, her gaze ping-ponging around the kitchen—anywhere but at me. She quickly steps back. “I didn’t mean…”
“I’d love nothing more than to take you out, Lightning. You know this.”
“I, um…” She clamps her mouth shut, and her thick swallow echoes between us.
“What do I have to do to convince you?”
“We were just getting on well as friends, weren’t we?” Her voice cracks halfway through, and her gaze darts to my mouth. It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be only friends with me, either.
Why is she still fighting this?
I clench my jaw, tamping down the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her proverbial walls loose.
I venture another step toward her, effectively leaving zero room between us. I place both of our glasses on the counter behind me, then slip my hand into hers, my self-control disintegrating like kindling. “How long are you going to keep punishing me?”
She whirls on her heel, breaking our connection, and leans her palms to the edge of the sink for what appears to be balance. With a resigned sigh, she says, “I’m not, Nate. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m not punishing you. You shouldn’t—”
“But you are.” I inch toward her again, halting when my chest brushes her shoulders, and the wisps of her hair tickle my chin.
My blood simmers, launching a caravan of emotions through the valleys of my chest.
As I lean down, she tilts her own head back, meeting me halfway. With my lips caressing her ear, I rasp, “You punish me every time you tear your eyes from me. Each time you walk in a different direction. Even when you lick your lips like you taste something sweet.”
“How is that last one a punishment?”
I turn her in my arms and grind out, “Because I don’t get a fucking taste for myself.”
She shudders in my arms.
The tip of my nose brushes her cheek, and her sharp inhale charges into my body, clutching my heart and fueling me to continue. “You punish me every day by insisting we’re not good for each other when I know in my gut, you’re the one. My only one.”
She fists my shirt and clings to me like she might otherwise fall. “That’s not true.”
“Want proof of it, Lightning? Because I have plenty if you’re ready for it.”
Her knuckles dig into my chest, and I have trouble plucking myself away.
But I have to.
It’s now or never.