Chapter Eleven
Wren
W e were kissing, my body melding into Daniel’s a tad bit more with every stroke of his tongue. It had been a while, in general, and two decades since I’d made out with the man of the hour. I blamed the former for how quickly my body was igniting.
Daniel’s hand slid up my arm, caressing my cheek, and back down again. My eyes were closed, allowing me to feel every sensation in its entirety.
We were making up for years lost, saying hello as adults and remembering our younger selves without any words. Until Daniel ran a thumb along my waist, making contact with the sliver of skin in between my jeans and top. Chills broke out along my spine and my breathing picked up pace.
Daniel broke free from the kiss and mumbled along my lips, “Dare I ask—do your panties say the day of the week?”
As he referenced the embarrassing moment in college, a wave of nostalgia came over me. We’d chuckled together back then, Daniel refusing to let me feel silly for one second. Now, with my forehead leaning into his, I laughed. At first it was hesitant and soft and then it became more of a giggle.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I teased.
“Oh, I would, but not quite yet. I’ve matured, and one thing I’ve learned as an adult is that the best is worth waiting for.”
“Hmm. Either that, or blow your knee out skiing.”
“Hey, I’m not too old to do any of that. Skiing, water or snow…”
“Oh, you’re a Peter Pan type?”
We were still snuggled on the couch, forehead to forehead, when Daniel tickled my side. “No Peter Pan complex. Just keeping my body young and spry. I’ll be back to skiing…”
“Good for me. Skiing pays a lot of the bills, especially when it comes to smug guys like you.” He served me another tickle, and this time I couldn’t help but jump up.
“Look, I can’t say no to Hollywood royalty. My reputation is always on the line.”
“I hear you, tough guy,” I said, lifting Rourke up. “I’m going to give the little man a potty break.” I glanced outside at the snowflakes falling against the dark sky.
Daniel’s gaze followed, and he asked, “Do you want me to come?”
I shook my head. “Make yourself at home. He won’t take long. Despite living in Boston all his life, Rourke is a warm-weather boy.”
I moved toward the kitchen and slipped out the back door after nabbing my coat off the hook.
I set Rourke on the small back porch and said, “Time to do your business, baby boy.” He looked at me like, Who you calling baby?
As he scampered down the steps and over to his favorite tree and lifted his leg, I wondered what the hell I was doing. Maybe that was what Rourke was thinking. We had a good life, wanted for nothing—I had a vibrator—and I was a successful woman among men. I didn’t need a man. Certainly not the one in my house, who had reappeared after a million years.
Yet as I made my way back into the house, Rourke leading the way, I found Daniel in my kitchen, setting a pot on the stove. “Hungry still?”
His deep laugh filled the air. “No, we ordered enough food. I’m making us something to toast the new year.”
Looking at my watch, I noted it was a quarter to twelve.
Of course Rourke, never one to be left out of the fun, shook his fur off and walked over to Daniel.
He promptly picked the dog up and said, “I’m making something good but it’s not for you, pooch.”
I strode over and looked in the pan. “I see you found my chocolate stash.”
“I sure did. You have good taste, I’ll give you that. Imported Swiss chocolate is about all you have in the pantry. Luckily I found some marshmallows and sugar, and we are in business.”
Daniel stirred the chocolate, melting it slowly, and then walked to the liquor cabinet. He didn’t need to stand on tiptoes to reach, and stealthily retrieved a bottle of Glenlivet.
It was just now that I noticed the Keurig was running, brewing a cup of coffee.
“I’m afraid to ask,” I said. “Are you planning to be up all night?”
“I’ll tell you what—not with that thing. Where the heck is your coffeemaker? A real one. A French press would be better. That’s junk, but I needed something in a pinch.” He winked at me, his eyes practically glittering as he made his way around my kitchen, owning the space.
“So, you’re a coffee snob?”
“Coming from Little Miss I Only Buy Swiss Chocolates.”
“Touché.”
Sitting on the stool, I snuck a peek at my watch. Ten more minutes until midnight.
“Tell me, what is it you are concocting in my kitchen? It’s the most use this space has seen in a long time.”
He was facing the stovetop and turned to catch my eyes. I secretly loved this about Daniel. He always connected when he talked with someone.
“A sweetened-up version of kilted coffee. Let’s call it kilted hot cocoa with a splash of coffee.”
“Did you invent this?”
“Nah, just perfected it.”
He swept the pot off the stovetop and poured a bit of chocolate into each of the two large mugs he’d set on the counter. Next came a shot of coffee in each. Following the chocolate and coffee, I saw he had something else on the stovetop.
“Oat milk was the best I could do,” he said, not blaming my lack of supplies. He added a few fingers of warm oat milk, followed by a few more of Glenlivet, and used a stirrer to mix each one up. “And finally,” he said with dramatic flair, “the decorations.”
“I think the right term is garnish.”
“What do you know? You don’t cook. Or are you a secret mixologist?”
I shook my head and stifled a laugh, loving the easy banter between us, quickly reminding myself Daniel was set to leave in the next day or two. I’d demanded it…probably for the best.
Tossing some marshmallows on the top of each mug, he gathered both and walked my way. “Come on. We need to see the ball drop.” He spoke gently and started walking toward the TV room, mugs in hand.
When we got there, New York City was a frenzy on television. Daniel handed me a mug and turned toward me. We stood there and it should have been awkward, but like everything with this larger-than-life Scot, it wasn’t.
His gaze didn’t leave mine as the whole gang on the screen was chanting and counting. “Ten…nine…eight,” rang out.
Daniel tilted his mug toward me and said, “Cheers, Birdie. I’m so happy I found you and you let me share this evening with you.”
It was the kindest, most heartfelt thing anyone had ever said to me.
“Five…four…three…”
I took a swig of the specialty brew, hoping it doused my rising emotions and libido. “It certainly wasn’t how I expected to ring in the New—”
The television rang out. “ONE!”
Right then, at the stroke of midnight, Daniel kissed me again. Both of us, a mug in hand, standing in front of the television, the crowd going wild, our free arms wrapped around one another, living a moment I never believed would exist.
“You never were a birdie. Always were an eagle in my book,” Daniel muttered, pausing, taking a slug of his drink and motioning for me to do the same.
I did as I was expected, the warm liquid soothing my soul but not quenching my desire.
For the second time, Daniel took both mugs, setting them on the coffee table before gathering me in his arms and kissing me harder. His mouth rained down passion on mine and I was a willing participant in the tornado of feelings swarming around us.
Red flags echoed in my brain and the swell of emotions swept them away.
I’d never trifled with my goals or life like I was in this moment, and I had no idea what that meant for me. But it was Daniel, so for some unknown reason I didn’t care.
We stood there in one another’s arms, kissing, making out like twentysomethings on a dance floor, until Daniel stopped abruptly.
“I’m going to say good night.”
A million scenarios filled my head, yet the words didn’t leave my throat.
“You didn’t do anything.” Daniel answered what I couldn’t bring myself to ask. “I am going to find the bedroom like I found everything I needed in the kitchen, and it’s not time for that yet, Birdie. I waited this long to steal you back. I’m not going to rush the thrill.”
Still speechless, I didn’t understand. He was leaving. Somewhere in my mind, I’d okayed a fling with this man…and I didn’t want to wait.
Except Daniel was taking my hand and walking me toward the door. “This has been the best New Year’s, one for the books. I’ll call you in the morning…or I should say, later today.”
He placed a lingering kiss on my cheek, and I realized I still hadn’t spoken. “Thank you…” I managed.
“No, thank you.” He opened the door and I realized he’d had a car waiting for him all night. He sauntered off into the night. As soon as he got to the last step of my brownstone, he turned and mouthed, Lock the door .
He waited until I listened, and I promptly slid to the floor of my foyer, my back to the wooden door, and wondered how the hell I found myself aching for more when I hadn’t even wanted the evening to take place.
Rourke marched over, sat down next to me and blew out a long breath before lying down next to me.
“I know. He’s a force. And now he came in, blew everything open, and left…”
Rourke didn’t answer, but I knew he agreed.