20. Felt Different This Time
FELT DIFFERENT THIS TIME
The next morning, Baker was up earlier than Tasha, in the kitchen and making breakfast.
Her tears last night, they’d gutted him.
He’d thought he’d hurt her. Physically caused her pain.
But she laughed and said he’d just knocked her traitorous tears loose.
He didn’t believe that fully, but he couldn’t really call her a liar either.
As quietly as he could, he cracked eggs in a bowl, then looked around for a pan.
She hadn’t even heard, let alone felt him get out of bed twenty minutes ago. He’d pissed, brushed his teeth, taken a shower, and still nothing when he tiptoed out.
Guess he wore her out well. Or it was the freedom of not having to chase after Micah. Maybe a combination of both.
After opening and closing several cabinets, he found her pans, pulled one out, put a dab of butter in it and whisked the eggs until the pan was heated.
Bread dropped in the toaster, the eggs poured to the sound of sizzling.
“Damn, what a sight that this is first thing in the morning.”
He turned quickly to see Tasha in the doorway, her hair tangled around her shoulder, one strap of her tank top falling over her bicep, her hand in front of her mouth covering a yawn, and her toes spreading on the floor as if it was her natural morning stretch.
There was never a more beautiful sight than that in his eyes.
“You’re telling me,” he said, his hand out. She moved easily toward him and into his arms. “You didn’t hear a sound when I was moving around.”
“The smell of coffee woke me. Where’s mine?”
She was looking at the counter, at his half-finished cup. “I’ll make it for you.”
“Do you mind while I take a quick shower? Though it looks as if the food will be done soon.”
“It will hold. Go on.”
She leaned up and smacked a kiss to his lips, then took off in a happy jog, almost like a skip out of the room, half turning, and blowing him a kiss.
If anyone had ever said he’d be smiling over a move like that, he might punch them in the face.
Fuck.
The last thing he wanted to do was fall back into what he had with Alexa.
But it felt different this time.
Nothing about Tasha was the same as what it was with Alexa.
And the fact she was holding back as much as him made it almost feel as if it wasn’t so hard.
Not even ten minutes later, she returned in shorts and a T-shirt, bare feet, her hair wrapped up in a bun on her head, and reached for the coffee cup before she reached for him.
“You even put my creamer in it. That’s super sweet.”
“I’ve seen you make it enough times at work.”
The toast was buttered, the scrambled eggs with a handful of shredded cheese melted in were scooped onto their plates, and the forks set out next to the plates on the island.
“This is great.” She put her butt on the stool, he climbed on the one next to her, and they both dug in. “I’m not sure the last time someone cooked me breakfast other than my mother,” she said around a mouthful, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she chewed.
“You’ve been waiting on me for weeks. It’s the least I could do.”
Her head landed on his shoulder for a second and then went right back to eating.
She was much more open with her actions and emotions than she’d been.
Sure, she’d always been fun, friendly, and flirty.
But this was different. This was... deeper.
He just wondered if she’d clue him in on any of it.
“And I appreciate it.”
“What time do you have to pick up Micah?”
“Not until this afternoon.” She kept eating, then said, “Do you have plans this weekend? Or the rest of the weekend?”
“Nothing much more than normal shit I do.”
Cleaning, laundry, watching baseball.
He’d mastered the loner life. It wasn’t so much fun anymore. Not when he had a taste of this.
Her eyes were on his face, not moving, not blinking, her mind processing something.
He held her stare, not blinking or moving either, then wiggled his eyebrows and had her laughing out loud.
“I need to up my staring game around you. I thought I was good being around the kids at school so much.”
“Just takes practice and patience. What’s on your mind? I’d like to think you’d feel comfortable enough to voice your thoughts. You had no problem doing it last night.”
Her shoulder bumped into his in a playful mood that lightened every doubt he had.
Every careless thought or worry that something was wrong. Or he wasn’t doing something right.
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this again and yet his brain was betraying him.
“You’re right. I didn’t have a problem saying something and normally I do with men.”
“Why’s that?”
She shrugged, took a bite of her toast, her head twitching as if the words were spinning before they could come out.
“Because most of the men in my past felt emasculated if I asked them for something they weren’t doing. As if they weren’t good enough and it made me feel high maintenance.”
“Fuck them,” he said. “I mean it. Sex is a two-way street. I want you to tell me what you like and what you want. If you can’t tell me, then show me.”
She grinned, the smile lighting her blue eyes right up. “And I want the same.”
“We don’t seem to have an issue there. But that’s not what I think you’re holding back from saying. Right?”
She sighed. “Right. I’m not sure how to bring this up. I guess I’ll just say it but preface it with there is no pressure. Nothing to get stressed or worked up about.”
“Yet you are.” He put his hand on her knee that was bouncing up and down next to him.
“Sorry. Here goes.” She squared her shoulders, then the words rushed out, “Would you be willing to meet Micah?”
Guess by waiting and giving her space, she came around faster than he thought.
And if she was asking him this, then she wasn’t playing any kind of game.
She wasn’t dragging him along.
If he didn’t mean something more to her, or even the possibility of it, there was no way she’d ask him this question.
The weight of it for both of them made him immediately say, “Absolutely. Though I met him once.”
Her shoulders relaxed, her eyes got a little dewy, but her smile remained. “You did. But this would be different. I thought maybe tomorrow, you could come for dinner here.”
“I’d like that. You’re sure? I know this has to be hard for you.”
“It is. But nothing right is easy either. I know we said this was a stepping stone for us.”
“I’m climbing the stairs. Not racing up them, don’t get me wrong, but climbing them.”
“I know. I see it. I’m not riding the whole Jolene is never wrong train. It’s not that. It’s just, maybe I don’t have to be so guarded over everything. It’s hard to get past... the past.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Do you think we’ll talk about that at some point? Will you?”
“I already told you some of my father. You know my feelings on cheating. You won’t have that worry with me.”
“I never thought I would. But I also know that if you tell me about your past, I’d have to let you in on some of mine, and the truth is, only Margo knows. Not even my parents.”
He ran his tongue around his teeth. “You’re talking about Micah’s father now, I’m assuming.”
“Yes.”
“They don’t know what happened between the two of you?”
“No.”
There was more going on. There had to be. “Did he abuse you?”
She shook her head rapidly, the bun on her head rattling around as if it was going to unravel.
“Absolutely not. I’d never tolerate that.”
“And you don’t want to say anything else?”
“Not now. Let’s just get to the landing of those stairs and see how tomorrow goes.”
He leaned closer, placed a light kiss on her lips, and said, “We can do that.”