Chapter 11
11
SCOTT
I didn’t mean for this to happen.
One day, I’m packing my things into boxes, and the next… there she was.
In my shop. On my porch.
Across the street.
And today, I’m waking up in her bed, her naked body in my arms.
Last night was… a surprise.
I sat awake on the couch, watching the kids sleep and keeping one ear open. I wondered how it was I got here, how this woman gripped me so swiftly. How in two days, we went from complete strangers to potential enemies to friendly neighbors to… kissing on her kitchen table.
I couldn’t sleep. I thought maybe she couldn’t either, given the circumstances.
So, with our children sleeping soundly, I walked down the hall to see if she wanted to talk. Because I did. I needed to. There’s so much to figure out, so much to untangle in the weave of her life that I accidentally inserted myself into.
And then... there she was.
“Scott?” she whispered. “What’s wrong?”
That’s all it took. My name on her lips.
Suddenly, I couldn’t say a word.
I didn’t want to talk anymore.
I wanted nothing more than to tell her that no one would ever hurt her or her son ever again, but all I could do was kiss her.
And then… well…
I didn’t mean for this to happen.
But I’m glad it did.
As Lottie stirs in my arms now, I enjoy the feeling of her smooth skin against mine. I relish in the scent of her, her hair. I kiss her shoulder and taste her skin, and she smiles, her limbs rubbing softly against mine under the covers.
My heart pounds. Truthfully, I thought I’d never fall in love again. Even more truthfully, I didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure I even could.
But… there she was.
Here she is.
Kiss County strikes again, as Summer said.
“Scott?” Lottie whispers.
I kiss her cheeks, her nose, her eyelids. As her eyes flutter open, I smile. “Good morning.”
She chuckles. “Good morning indeed.”
We laugh. We kiss. For a moment, everything is wonderful and perfect, but my gut teases with doubt.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “About last night.”
Lottie furrows her brow. “I’m not,” she says.
“No?”
“No.” She turns to face me, worried. “Why? Was I not good?”
“No!” I say. “I mean, yes . Yes, it was incredible. You were... everything. I just thought that maybe we should have talked about it first or something.” Lottie chuckles, and I relax a little. “That we should have had dinner first. Alone, I mean. A date or something.”
“Guess we do things differently down here in Small Town,” she says.
“Guess you do,” I say.
“I’m sorry if I rushed you into it.”
“I thought I rushed you.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to be standing there,” she says. “And when I saw you, I had to...”
“Kiss you,” I say.
“Yeah. I had to...”
We kiss softly now, that warm feeling growing between us again.
“I had to kiss you,” I repeat with a whisper. “I had to...”
“Have you,” she says, her lips parting for an even deeper kiss.
“Yes,” I sigh, my cock growing hard, her skin so soft. “Lottie, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since we met.”
She chuckles. “Since I harassed you and called you an asshole?”
“You called me an asshole?”
“Well, I thought it.”
I chuckle as I roll her onto her back. “What can I say? That’s my fetish.” I kiss her again, eager to take her all over again, but there’s still something left to be said. “If you still hate me, I get it,” I say, breaking the kiss, ready to walk away if she asks me to.
But Lottie smiles. “I don’t.”
“Even though I stole your bakery?” I ask.
“You didn’t steal it,” she says. “You stole a building. The dream is still there.” She touches my cheek. “And you...”
“What?” I ask when she goes quiet.
She swallows hard, hesitating. “You made a different dream come true,” she says, finding the words. “Liam. The way he hid behind you like that...” She smiles. “I think he likes you.”
“I like him, too.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” I hold her hand, my heart pounding now. “Lottie, I won’t let anything happen to you. Either of you. If Mark comes back here, he’ll have to get through me.”
She releases a breath, shaking. “Are you sure?”
I kiss her; a promise made. “Yes.”
As I move to push between her thighs, she laughs softly and breaks the kiss. “We should check on the kids,” she says.
I sigh, but nod. “Continue this tonight?”
“Tonight,” she agrees with a smile. “It’s a date.”
We reluctantly pull ourselves out of bed, quickly getting dressed before making our way down the hall to the kids.
Fortunately, it’s still early, and they’re still sleeping, though it doesn’t take much to jostle them up for breakfast.
My cellphone buzzes on the coffee table. I answer it.
“Is this Scott Smolders?” a voice asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“Sorry to call you so early, Mr. Smolders. This is Sheriff Spelling. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”