Chapter 38
Cienna
“Who sets an alarm on a Saturday morning?” I groaned into the hard chest that was my pillow. “Turn it off.”
Reed’s chest hair tickled my nose as he reached over me to grab his phone.
“I have a five-year-old. I have to race to be awake before her. Otherwise, I’ll wake up to Froot Loops and frosting and gummy bears in a bowl for breakfast.” His snort would have been adorable had it not been way too early.
“Or the fridge handle bedazzled with gem stickers. Speaking from experience.”
Nestling back into him with a sigh, I didn’t want to bring up how there wasn’t a five-year-old in the house this morning. Instead, I made little circles across his stomach and let myself fade back to sleep.
After who knew how long, he shifted beneath me, his warmth leaving, eliciting another whine. “Gremlin needs sleep.” I rolled onto my stomach and squished the pillow over my head.
A gentle graze of his hand over my ass reminded me I was naked, and I tugged the covers up and over me. “Gremlin sleep cave. Get inside or go away.”
His mouth found my ear beneath the blanket. “What about naked pancakes?”
The naked more than the pancakes piqued my interest, but both sounded like an okay enough reason to get up. Especially if the naked part led to the back-in-bed-but-not-for-sleeping part. He patted my butt and lifted from the bed. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
The morning chill and blips of insecurity led me to throwing the afghan over my shoulders as I ambled into the kitchen to find Reed keeping his promise of naked and pancakes.
I nearly licked his abs as he stood on his tiptoes and reached to the highest cupboard, pulling down the box of pancake mix. “That is the look of a girl who really loves pancakes.”
I wanted to kiss the smirk right off his face, but being in the kitchen nearly naked had me fearing a messy, albeit tempting, repeat of last night.
“I’m not really a breakfast person, but when I do have a morning meal, pancakes are a must.”
Stepping in closer, he wrapped an arm around my waist, the other setting the box on the counter. He pecked my lips teasingly. “The first meal of the day is the most important.”
I wasn’t sure how in the world he made that statement sound sexy.
“That’s why they made coffee.” I returned his chaste kiss, his breathy giggle tickling against mine.
“And brunch. Which I have later today with the girls… but it’s more like dunch, since none of us want to admit that we’re too lazy to get up earlier,” I rambled.
“Of course, what was I thinking?” He gave his head a playful smack. Then his face turned thoughtful as he rubbed the fresh scruff on his chin. “I actually don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a coffee nearby.”
I gave his stomach a light push and a tickle. “You’re just now realizing this? Coffee is my love language.”
He let out a squeal and ducked into himself. “Vicious! Tickling. Is this what you turn into without coffee? An aggressive tickle monster?”
My laughter belted out, and my eyes watered from happy, playful joy. I growled and made a production of clawing my hands before launching myself at him.
With wide eyes, he jumped back, smiling playfully. “Well then, if coffee is your love language, we might need to get us a Keurig.” He patted an empty spot on the kitchen counter. I swallowed the emotions that tickled at my cheeks.
His hands hit his hips, eyeing me up and down. “For now, I must go fetch some. Clearly, you without coffee is terrifying. I fear for my life, to be honest.”
As if the moment could get any better. This man was going to bring me coffee? I wiped at my eyes, leaned in, and hugged around his middle. He petted my hair, caressing my back for a moment, then kissed my head. “I’ll be back in a few. Vanilla oat-milk coldfoam, two espresso shots, cinnamon on top?”
I froze. He knows my freaking weekend-only coffee order. Affection crashed down on me in drops as sweet and spicy as the cinnamon topping I craved. Coffee being my love language took on a whole new meaning. All I could do was nod into his stomach and whisper, “Yes, please.”
I let him go with one last squeeze, plastering a smile on my face to hide the swell of emotions. My gaze lingered as he threw on pants and a hoodie and then walked out the door, shoving his wallet in his back pocket. And my thoughts veered to how grabbable his toosh was in my hands last night.
The house fell quiet. Being alone in here felt…
oddly okay. My eyes darted to the half-sliced pineapple, then to the spot Reed patted on the counter.
Where we would get a Keurig. Us. And then a pang shot through me, and I rubbed my chest. My heart raced and my lungs couldn’t catch enough air for a full breath.
Could someone have a panic attack from giddiness?
I leaned against the cabinets, my head in my hands.
Deep breaths, Cici. You’re okay. This is okay.
I sucked in air and shook my head. This is a lot. His words from weeks ago trickled into my mind. I know this is a lot.
Reed and Abi were the greatest thing to come into my life since I didn’t know when. It felt good to be needed. It felt good to belong. It felt good to be… loved. It was a lot… but it felt right.
I stood and brushed the spot on the counter where my—our—Keurig would sit. Those bolts of emotion simmered, tickling until a smile twitched my lips.
With a shimmy to the sink, I began washing out the bowl to start the pancakes.
Swaying my hips side to side to the blissful song in my head as I scrubbed, I almost missed my phone ding.
Turning off the water, I grabbed it and was met with the home screen, two smiling faces shining back at me.
It was a picture of Abigail and me from a few nights ago, when we had a tea party.
I wore a fancy hat, and she bedazzled herself in diamonds and a crown. “Gosh, I love that girl,” I said to myself, melting at the sight of the two of us.
But wait…
This wasn’t my phone. It was Reed’s. I swooned a moment more, but then the phone dinged again, reminding me of the text blaring in the center.
BF:On our way to drop Abigail off. We’re a little earlier than planned.
Well, shit.
Pacing back and forth, I wasn’t sure what my plan of attack should be. I could hide, but my car was parked out front. I could stay and meet the damn people causing havoc in my boyfriend’s life, but that seemed counterproductive to Reed’s battle. Flight it is.
Running back to the room, I haphazardly tossed and gathered my things that were strewn all over the floor, then double-checked on the bed and in the covers.
I threw on Reed’s Princess Cruise shirt and some basketball shorts that were way too long.
I looked absolutely ridiculous, but my own clothes were covered in sticky juice, flour, and tiny drops of tomato sauce.
With one last look around the living room, I swung my purse and bag over my shoulder and darted out the door. With a sigh of relief and a pout at the fact that I wouldn’t get my coffee or a kiss goodbye, I made it to my car.
Just as I chucked my things in the passenger seat, a familiar squeal echoed around me. “Cici, Cici!” A small human latched on to my leg before I could turn my body. I looked down to a sea of frizzy red curls, and I instinctively knelt to give my favorite little girl a hug.
It hit me how much I’d missed her. My disheveled look was proof that I enjoyed alone time with her uncle, but Abi’s absence was always apparent when she wasn’t in the house. The morning light glistened on her hair, and I twisted a curl in my fingers. “Good morning, Abigail.”
Her smile was as vibrant as her red strands, and I felt my own lips matching that beam. Movement in my peripheral startled me. Oh crap.
In all the excitement at seeing Abigail, I completely forgot where she was coming from and who she was with.
Literally the reason I was fleeing. I stood and smiled at the woman who was clearly assessing me but, regardless, had a kind and thoughtful face.
Her eyes were the same bright green, and the shape and perfect brows were familiar.
In contrast to Reed and Abi’s red curls and ginger features, her hair was a rich brown, perfectly rolled curls touching the shoulders of her pristine blouse.
She wore a beautiful ensemble of pearls: earrings, necklace, and a bracelet.
She held her designer purse over her shoulder, and a quick glance at her shoes told me all I needed to know.
Yep. Rich lady shoes. No doubt. This woman could have been cut from the page of a ritzy middle-aged fashion catalog. Exactly as Reed had described, but I didn’t feel a venomous air about her. No swirls of demonic essence.
She reached her hand out, jolting me from my ogling. “I’m Bethany, Abigail’s grandmother.”
I shook her soft-as-fucking-silk hand and nearly asked her what lotion she used. “I’m Cienna. Nice to meet you.” With a zap of panic, I realized Abigail would give away so much more about my identity and ambiguous role in her life if I stuck around any longer.
“All right, I’m off! Late to pilates.” Where the fuck did that come from? Who went to pilates braless and in basketball shorts. Me, of course. “Bye-bye, Abigail. Have a lovely day, Bethany.”
Abigail squeezed my middle one last time, then tipped her head up. “Uncle Reed has this same shirt. It’s funny.”
I gulped and snuck a peek in Reed’s mother’s direction. She quirked her brow and gave a polite wave. Before any further conversation could be had, I hopped in my car and started the engine. With one more wave, I pulled away and headed… apparently, to pilates.