Chapter 22 #2
His hair was a little longer than when I moved out, but he’d gotten it trimmed recently. I clenched my hands together so I wouldn’t walk right over and run my fingers through his damp strands.
“I’ll put the pasta on. Relax and warm up.
” I had to retreat to the kitchen. Seeing him in my living room flipped my heart all the way around.
Couldn’t I even make it through a month?
I was no longer dependent on his help to keep a roof over my head, and I should be euphoric about that.
But all that resonated inside me was loss.
After I got the pasta going, he wandered to the kitchen table. “Did everything come from Jasper?”
“Most of it. I thrifted the table, and I have my eye on a nice living room set at Haven Furnishings, but I’m going to wait until after the holidays.”
He tapped the surface of the table. “It’s nice.”
The kitchen was so much smaller when he was in it, and I didn’t mind.
“Where’s your office?” he asked.
“Right where you’re standing, but I put it away.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Then it’s a real day off.” One full of winter eye candy. “Sit. You’ve been working. How’s your back? Your knee?”
“As long as I don’t slip and fall, they’ll be okay. I messaged Linda and asked if she wanted me to clear out the driveway at the house.”
At our house. A weight plopped right on my chest. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. How nice would it have been to ride out a snowstorm with Van?
I flashed back to the Vegas hotel room, getting told my fiancé ran off with another woman he’d just met. The hurt. The embarrassment.
How easy it was to forget that Van witnessed it.
I might’ve told Elijah off, but it was in a your brother took care of me when you wouldn’t way. Wasn’t exactly empowering—unless I was Van.
I had given up everything when Elijah asked me to. I couldn’t do it again.
“Something wrong?” His deep voice cleared the cloud of my thoughts, and I blinked.
I was watching water boil. “Oh, no. Just thinking about the weather and if I should park on the street next time.”
“It’s a toss-up.”
“How’s work going?”
“I just keep writing and rewriting my pitch.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve fucked it up once, and they already know the deal. I know meeting them in person is more about proving I’m serious and making sure I’m not a mess.”
“You’re the least messy person I’ve ever met.”
“Only because you met me when you did.”
He’d changed himself. So hot. “I still think you’re hard on yourself.”
“Nope. The breakup was messy.” He took the lid off the meatballs and groaned. “You’re only getting better at making these.”
I straightened my shoulders, and my boobs pushed out. “Thank you.”
When I glanced over, his gaze was on my chest. He jerked away to inspect the rest of the kitchen.
Did we really have to stop messing around?
Yes. I’d fall for him, he’d launch his business, then he’d meet someone else. Someone who was having his baby, not his brother’s.
The water finally boiled. I dumped the pasta in and set the table. Van jumped in without asking, probably because I would’ve told him to sit. We talked about superficial stuff, mostly our work and my family, as we ate. When he finished, he refused to sit while I cleaned up.
“You don’t make a very good guest,” I finally said when he blocked me from washing dishes.
He grinned and kept scrubbing. His sleeves were rolled up. As if I didn’t need more reminders of all the parts of him I liked. All the bits of him I’d had my mouth on.
I boosted myself on the counter next to the drying rack. “Have you gone to Bismarck again?”
“Why?”
I stroked my gaze along the width of his shoulders, glad he was paying attention to the dishes. “Pokémon.”
“Oh. No. Maybe when I get back.”
“When you’re rolling in all that investor cash?”
“Those fanboys are going to have to watch out for me.”
“Or all the pretty Pokémon players.” Where had that come from? No, I knew from where, but why did the question leave my mouth?
He made circles with the dishrag on a plate. “You think I’m there to pick up women?”
Well, there weren’t a lot, but if he met someone there, they would start with something healthier in common than he and I had. “You might meet your soulmate.”
He frowned and drew back. I got one blink from him, then he focused back on the dishes. “My soulmate?”
“It’s a given I’m not going to date for a while, but nothing’s stopping you.” It was hard to talk around the lump in my throat and sound casual.
He stopped again to look at me. His gaze was carefully neutral. “No, I guess not.” He rinsed the plate, a furrow in his brow. “Except for all the men at the tournaments.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Noted.”
Erase that note, dammit.
He dipped his hand in the soapy water and came up with forks. “I thought I was supposed to be staying away from women who might tank my company.”
“Right.” I smiled from the small surge of triumph. Was he on a hiatus too? “But after you attract all those new investors, it’ll be smooth sailing.”
“Then I’ll need clients.”
“That’ll be easy. You’re the best.”
He blew out a soft breath. “You don’t really know what I do.”
“You’re still the best.”
He ran water over the forks and shook them out. Once they were in the drying rack, he didn’t go for another dirty dish. He wiped his hands and stopped in front of me. “You have that much faith in me?”
I nodded, loving how close he was. If we were at the other house, I could twine my arms around his neck. We’d be naked and fucking in less than five minutes, and only because the man liked his foreplay.
I liked his foreplay.
Gripping the edge of the counter, I swallowed. “I do.”
He worked his jaw back and forth, his gaze narrowing on me. “My soulmate will have the same faith in me.”
Acid washed into my throat. “Even more, probably.” The tears threatened to gather in my eyes again. To cover for my reaction, I gave him a playful shove in the shoulder. “Buddy.”
Shock passed over his face a second before he choked on a laugh. “Sweet Clover, did you just call me ‘buddy’?”
“Maybe,” I said with a giggle. “Just trying to talk you up.”
“I don’t need a wingman,” he said quietly. “I just need a friend like you.”
“You have me.” As a friend, and nothing more.