Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
They did not go to the ferry.
Five silent minutes after they got into his truck, Colby redirected him to Miller and Clancy’s brownstone. Clancy had stayed there when he’d worked at Mass Gen, but since moving to MVH, the townhome had become a crash pad for anyone working on the Chess outpost, Ford most frequently.
The heavy, awkward silence continued up the front steps, through the front door, and inside the small foyer. Ford was beginning to wonder if Colby even intended for him to stay—he could still make the last ferry—but then Colby stopped him in his mental tracks.
“Don’t go anywhere,” she said, before she tossed her clutch on the entry table and crossed the living area to the kitchen.
She opened the cabinet beside the stove, grabbed the sugar, and after rummaging through a few drawers, the jar of peanut butter Ford dipped into whenever he needed a quick snack.
Egg and butter from the fridge, then a bowl and a lined baking sheet later, she was at the island, mixing ingredients.
Ford recognized the behavior, one he and many other cooks shared.
For him, it was usually mise en place, but it made sense that the best baker he knew would process the truth bomb he’d dropped on her with something sweet.
Cookies, it seemed, as she patted out a perfect round and placed it on the baking sheet.
“Can I help?” he asked.
“Oven to three-fifty and grab a fork to crosshatch the tops.”
He followed her instructions, then joined her at the island, leaving more distance than usual between them, making casual conversation to keep things light. “I don’t see you work with peanut butter much.”
“Mom didn’t like it, so it was rarely in the house. It’s not an ingredient I gravitate to. But you eat it all the time.”
She stepped closer, sparking their familiar connection, and light took a flying leap out the window. “Colby, I’m sor—”
“I want to kiss you.”
He fumbled the fork.
“But I don’t want to disappoint you.”
Then set it aside completely as he angled toward her, hip leaned against the island. “You could never disappoint me.”
Her laugh had an edge to it that his own beat-up self-esteem recognized.
But where he had divorce papers and a rental a thousand miles from home to show for his imposter syndrome, he didn’t understand where Colby’s came from.
He slid a hand over her hip like he’d done that morning. “I want to kiss you too.”
Her turn to fumble, the last cookie missing the sheet.
He removed his hand, peeled the round of quick dough off the counter, and put it on the baking sheet where it belonged.
Hashmarks made, he tossed the fork into the sink and slid the sheet into the oven.
Timer set for ten minutes, he rested back against the counter across from her, giving them both space for a much-needed conversation.
They were both too old and too good of friends for miscommunication. “But first, talk to me.”
She let her hair down from its knot and mirrored his posture, leaned against the island, fingers curled around the edge. “Today was a great day. The photoshoot went better than expected. Cash and I had a great chat about the cookbook. Then dinner was a blast too.”
“If you want—”
“I don’t want to be anywhere but right here with you.” Her gaze skittered away, roaming. “But what if the kiss, what if what comes next isn’t as great—”
Ford had a truckload of doubts—whether he was ready for more, whether he was enough for a goddess like Colby, whether pursuing more would risk the most important relationship in his life—but he had absolutely zero doubt they’d be fire together.
And he aimed to prove it to her.
One stride across the space between them and he tangled a hand in Colby’s long red curls and hauled her lips to his.
It was the five-alarm blaze he expected. Had dreamed about for months.
Colby groaned, melting into him, parting her lips, and he dove inside, tongue tasting everything he’d resisted for months, a new part of Colby that was sweeter than all the rest, that still tasted like the curry sauce from the wings they’d shared at the pub but with a trace of the peanut butter cookie batter baking in the oven and scenting the air around them.
A comfort to him as she’d always been. She curled her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and his whole world became Colby Clarke.
She’d been most of it for some time now, but like this, caged in by her, there was no escape.
And he didn’t want to.
So when she pulled back, he groaned a little himself, making her chuckle between heavy breaths. “Okay,” she panted. “That was great.”
He sensed a looming but.
“But I don’t do well with expectations.” She rested her forehead against his. “And there are already so many right now with the award, the cookbook, the—”
He kissed her again, a firm but gentle press to short circuit the anxiety spiral before it raced any farther. He understood where her mind was at, and the last thing he wanted to do was put more pressure on her. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”
“You do too,” she said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
The very last thing he wanted to do was burden her with more worries. But if he was expecting her to share with him, he had to do the same. “I’ll tell you tomorrow on the ferry home. I didn’t want to add to the stress.”
She used her arms still over his shoulders to draw him into a hug. “You’re my best friend first. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. And I don’t want to lose that.”
“I get it. I’m gun-shy too. This, you”—he kissed her temple, then drew back far enough meet her gaze—“are important to me too. But I’d like to see where this goes if you do too.” At her small smile, he cautiously offered, “How about we just expect one day at a time?”
Her smile widened. “That’s a little less scary.
” Then her gaze met his, Colby closing the distance between them and bringing their mouths back together.
The kiss started slow, an exploration with her in the lead, her tongue investigating every corner of his mouth, her hands raking through his hair and sending prickles racing across his skin, her hips rocking into his and finding his rock-hard dick.
He’d ignored the ache until then, but as Colby hiked up her skirt and wrapped a leg around his thigh, rutting against him, he couldn’t suppress the moan that rumbled up from his chest.
Or the thought of where this couldn’t go and how that reality had factored into his last relationship.
He’d been upfront with Josh about what he did and didn’t do in the bedroom, but years later, Josh swore under oath in their divorce proceedings that he hadn’t fully understood.
He didn’t want that miscommunication, those unmet expectations with Colby.
When they next came up for air, he gently clasped her chin, holding her back from diving in for more. “I also need to make sure you’re not expecting penetration, tonight or at any point in the future. I know I said one day at a—”
“You’re a side, right?”
He nodded.
She nodded in reply, then turned out of his arms, taking his heart with her as she crossed the room toward the door.
Disappointment slammed into him, a whole ocean of ship-sinking icebergs, and in case she looked back, he hid his dismay behind the guise of checking on the baking cookies.
They were starting to darken on the bottom, so he turned off the oven, grabbed a mitt, and pulled them out, setting them on the raised cooktop burners to cool.
He didn’t expect Colby, purse in hand, to be standing right behind him when he rotated back around.
“We’ve been fucking for months, Ford. I’d already figured out you were a side.
” She opened her clutch and withdrew a small round case.
“And thanks to a hot and steamy night a few years back with a saleswoman from Lady Robin’s Intimate Implements”—she tapped her blunt nails on the hardshell case—“I have a ton more toys where this one came from. If I want penetration, I’ll handle it.
Usually works out better for me anyways. ”
Confident Colby was back, and Ford’s heart—and dick—were racing ahead, as turned on as ever, but his brain was caught on one promising detail. “But if you brought that toy . . .”
She smiled, the same wide one she’d given him after learning she’d made the Beard short list. “I didn’t expect the night would end up here, just me and you, but as scary as the prospect was—is—I hoped.”