7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Kallie
Lance’s cabin is exactly how it was the first time I came here years ago, aside from a few upgrades. The scent of pine and wood smoke fills the air, mingling with the aroma that is Lance. The only thing missing is anything Christmas-related.
An old leather armchair sits by the window—a perfect spot to curl up with a book and watch the world go by. Rugged wooden beams crisscross the ceiling, adding to the cabin’s rustic charm. On one side of the room sits a dining table with matching chairs, the kitchen off to the right.
This place just screams Lance. It’s not too big, just enough for him. I glance around before Lance tosses my bag on the couch and heads towards the kitchen.
“Want some coffee? I could only assume you’re tired,” he mumbles just as I let out a long yawn. Lance looks back at me with a raised brow and a smirk on his face.
I cross the threshold of the kitchen and nod my head, ignoring his comment.
“I like what you’ve done with the kitchen,” I comment, taking in the rustic lights hanging over the kitchen island and all the things that seem new. New fridge, dishwasher—and I only know that because my dad asked me for my opinion before they bought it.
“Yeah, well, the place needed a few upgrades.” He looks back at me and winks.
He pulls out the cream from the fridge before putting a splash into a white cup with “Mountain men do it better” on the side. He hands it to me, and I can’t help but laugh. I instantly cover my mouth, but the laughter doesn’t die down.
“Yeah, laugh it up. It was a gift from your dad.” Lance takes a sip of his coffee after he lets out a chuckle of his own. My laughter dries up at mention of my dad.
“Sure it was,” I tease, taking a sip of my own. A moan slips through my lips, and Lance’s eyes shoot to me, somehow now darker. Clearing my throat, I set the cup down on his wooden countertop.
“The coffee is perfect, thank you.” I know my face is probably beet red right now.
Which seems to be the new normal, I guess.
Lance tells me to sit and relax as he cooks something for breakfast. I wanted to help, but he told me it was okay and he would take care of it. Now, I’m sitting in the chair next to the window, Kindle in hand, as I pretend to read a book.
Instead of focusing on the book, though, I watch as Lance moves effortlessly around his kitchen. The light from the stove cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting his strong jawline and the subtle lines that hint at his age. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing toned forearms flexing with each movement.
There’s a cocky type of confidence in the way he does things. His hands move with purpose, chopping and mixing what he needs, and that makes me want those hands on me instead. The thought of his hands in my hair, roaming over my exposed skin, sends a wave of desire through me. I press my thighs together, trying to dull the throbbing now building between them.
As he turns to check on the food, his eyes catch mine, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he watches me watch him. The warmth in his gaze makes my heart flutter, and I can’t help but admire the charm that seems to roll off him effortlessly.
I lean my head against the side of the chair, my book forgotten, content to simply watch him cook.
After eating the best pancakes and bacon I’ve ever had, Lance asked if I wanted to watch a movie, since there wasn’t much else to do with the storm raging outside. Some action movie plays on the screen, but I can’t focus. Turning my head to look at Lance at the other end of the couch, I ask, “Why didn’t you decorate for Christmas?”
He taps his finger on the arm of the couch before answering. “No one to spend it with, so why would I worry about decorating?”
His answer makes sense. I was ready to come up here and not even acknowledge Christmas, since I was expecting to be alone, but I was so happy when I saw the cabin decorated. That brings me to another question: why is a man like Lance single?
Before my brain can catch up with my mouth, I blurt out, “Are you not dating anyone?” I smack my hand over my mouth, and Lance graces me with another smile.
“Nah. I work a lot, and I don’t think it’s fair to start something with someone when I don’t have the time,” he answers, not looking away from me.
I only nod. For whatever reason, I don’t like his answer. A man like Lance deserves to be happy, but the thought of him dating someone sends a wave of jealousy through me. He must notice, because he doesn’t avert his gaze. Instead, he calls me out.
“What’s that look for?” he asks, leaning back on the couch, his legs spread. God, what I would do to kneel between them…
What? No, Kallie. Stop being horny for him.
“What look?” I ask, readjusting myself on the couch, my gaze snapping to the TV in hopes he’ll drop it. I have no such luck.
“The one you just gave me after asking me about my dating life.”
“I didn’t give you a look.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No—” Before I can defend myself, he has his hand wrapped around my ankle and pulls me onto my back. His fingers dig into my side, and I can’t hold in the laugh.
Is this man fucking tickling me right now?
“Lance! Oh my God! Stop!” I yell in a mix of laughter and shouts, but he doesn’t stop until I try to tickle his side, which seems to do the trick. Next thing I know, Lance is on top of me, both my wrists in one hand above my head. My chest rises and falls with deep breaths as I try to calm my erratic heart.
His brown eyes bore into mine, and if I could, I’d stay here forever.