9. Mark #2
The moment our lips touch, desire rushes through me, and it feels as if I’m kissing her for the first time all over again.
It doesn’t matter that we spent the entire night exploring every inch of one another, and I lost track of how many times we made each other come.
My need for her is stronger than ever. It’s like she’s put a spell on me, and all sense of the world beyond us disappears.
In all too short a time, she breaks our kiss, and her beautiful laughter fills the room.
When I reach for her again, she shoves me toward the door. “Go. You keep this up, and your daughter’s likely to show up looking for you. We’ll never get dressed at this rate.”
“There could be worse things,” I grumble, feigning rejection.
She’s got a point, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“If you think I’m meeting your daughter and grandkids for the first time naked, in your bed, Lancaster, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“God, you’re adorable when you’re feisty,” I admit, pecking her on the nose. “Though you got a point. That would certainly be traumatizing… For everyone involved. I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast, sweetheart. Take your time.”
Six and a half minutes later, I’m dressed and downstairs, pulling two mugs from the cupboard and filling them with coffee. A pan is warming on the stove, but Faye has yet to make an appearance. There’s water running, so I know she’s still upstairs.
As I’m bent over, rummaging in the fridge and reaching for the eggs, I hear an amused, “How the hell did you do that?”
Turning, I quickly ask for clarification. “Do what?”
With my hands full of milk and eggs, I elbow the door shut behind me and step to the counter to place what I need by the stove.
“Beat me down here.” Shaking her head, she adds, “I swear, it wasn’t even ten minutes.”
“I’ve got places to be.” I shrug. “Besides, why would I waste time in the shower when I can spend more time with you?”
Ignoring her adorable eye roll, I point at her coffee. “You still take it with cream and sugar?”
Sighing heavily, she nods and sits at the counter in front of the cup and sugar dispenser I’ve set out for her. “How do you remember that? It’s been thirty years.”
Handing her the milk in my hands, I shrug. “Sweetheart, I’m sure there are plenty of things to still learn, trust me.” Just as she’s about to pour, I remember. “Oh, the girls like flavored creamer. I think there might be caramel or vanilla creamer in the door if you’re interested.”
“This is fine. Thanks.” She pours a dash of sugar and milk into the mug. Once she’s done, she cups it and brings it to her mouth for a taste. “Mmmmm… I’m gonna need this today.” When her eyes find mine, she asks, “Want any help?”
“Nope. I got this. Just relax.”
While she enjoys her coffee, I make quick work by plopping our toast into the toaster and making sure the skillet is ready. Just as I’m about to crack her eggs, I ask for reassurance, “You still like your eggs over easy?”
From the corner of my eye, I catch her jaw drop, and she stares wordlessly for a few beats before shaking her head and replying, “Yep, I sure do.”
Cracking the egg with one hand, I ask, “What are your plans today?”
Her eyes look to the ceiling, and she ticks items off her fingers. “I need to hop on a call at ten, then another at one, and I’m working on a few projects that will take most of the day.”
With her line of work, I know better than to pry for further details, so instead, I change the subject. “Any idea when you think you’ll be done?”
“Well…” She sighs heavily and glances at her watch. “Since I’m getting a late start, and I have back-to-back meetings this afternoon, I’m not sure.”
The toast pops up, and I reach to plate it. Before I put anything on hers, I ask, “Butter?”
“Yes, please.”
Once that’s done, I return to the stove and flip the eggs, then gather our silverware. In a matter of minutes, our breakfast is done, and I’m sitting beside her on a barstool.
“Was the place like this when you moved in?” she asks, glancing around my open-concept living room and kitchen.
“I hired a company to replace the windows and repaint the outside while I tinkered on projects like renovating the downstairs bathroom and upgrading this kitchen. Thankfully, the wood floors were in great shape throughout the house, and the former owners repainted most of the interior before selling—though there are a few rooms I’d like to change up, but I’ll get there. ”
“It’s lookin’ good.” She nods, then takes another bite. When she’s finished chewing, she adds, “I always wondered what this place looked like inside. I think it was vacant for a while before you moved in… Or they just never used it because I haven’t seen anyone since I moved in next door.”
“Thankfully, it’s in good-enough shape,” I admit.
“I don’t mind a project now and then. There are still a few things that’ll keep me busy for a while but nothing too pressing.
The 90s kitchen has been upgraded, and for the most part, the house is livable.
I just couldn’t stand the dark-wood cabinets or the hunter-green countertops and single black sink. ”
Covering her mouth, she cackles. “No. I couldn’t do that either. This kitchen is a dream. It’s got plenty of space for a big family like yours. I love how bright and open it is. Not to mention it’s completely functional.”
As I take in this space through her eyes, I’m proud of my accomplishments.
Not only did I install a large double sink that you can finally wash large dishes in, but I’ve also created more seating by extending the granite countertop to easily seat six around it on barstools.
I also purchased a large table with long benches along the sides so we can fit more around the table than we could with chairs.
“Space was a huge selling point. I’ve spent too much time away over the years not to have a place we can gather.
Sure, we’ve still got Mom’s house, but all my girls are in the thick of things, raising their families.
It’s great for them to take a break away from their own chaos and let someone else host.”
Raising a brow, Faye skeptically asks, “So, you cook more than breakfast?”
“Do you think Jane Lancaster would’ve let me get away with not learning?
” I ask incredulously. She should know better.
Mom was adamant that my sister Mable and I learned everything we could so we could fend for ourselves.
Hell, Mom made sure of that long before I even considered enlisting in the Air Force.
Maybe I never showed Faye.
Shaking her head, a smile tugs at her lips. “Fair point.”
“Besides, a man’s gotta eat. I could only take chow halls for so long. The moment I got a place of my own, I always made the most of it.”
“Makes sense,” Faye muses. “I’ll admit I’m more of a functional cook. With my crazy schedule and it being just me, I don’t waste a lot of time on anything elaborate.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” I feel the need to reach out and squeeze her thigh with my free hand. “Speaking of eating, got any plans this evening?”
“Like I said, I’m working most of the day. I haven’t thought that far.”
“I’m grilling steaks with the boys. If you’re free, you’re welcome to join us. If you’re busy, we can drop it off.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she quickly spits out. “You should spend this time with your grandkids.”
I study her carefully, trying to decipher if she’s just being polite or truly uninterested in meeting my family.
“You gotta eat, don’t you?” I quickly counter.
Not sure why my gut’s telling me the truth behind her response matters, but for some reason, it feels important.
We’re neighbors; it’s not like she’s really going anywhere.
Knowing my gut never steers me wrong, I change tactics and soften my tone.
“Look, Faye, there’s nothing wrong with being neighborly. ”
“Is that what this is?” She points between the two of us and smirks adorably. “Neighborly?”
“Fuck... Last night was…” I draw out, running a palm down my face to keep from smiling at the memory as I search for the correct words.
Hell, it was fucking phenomenal, out of this world, one of the best fucking nights of my existence. But what comes out is, “Nowhere near neighborly.”
“I’d be a little jealous if you gave Mrs. Rimer, the woman who lives on the other side of you, the same treatment.”
“I can assure you, you’re the only neighbor I’ve experienced anything like last night with.” To prove my point, I lean in and kiss that gorgeous smirk right off her face.
Fuck, she’s addicting. If I don’t keep myself in check, I’ll never make it to Sloane’s today.
“Good.” She sighs when I pull back. “Because she’s a much better cook, and I wouldn’t want the competition.”
“Faye, I’ve met Mrs. Rimer. That woman could be my grandmother,” I deadpan, then put a finger beneath her chin to draw her eyes to mine. “So we’re clear, you’re the only one in this entire town who could tempt me to do the things I did to you last night.”
“Glad to see we’re on the same page,” she murmurs, pulling me in for another scorching kiss.
“Oh, we’re on the same page, Faye,” I murmur between hot kisses.
The bigger question is—what does this mean beyond last night?