Page 49 of Lace 'em Up

Because she won’t.

Still, I force a smile, hug her back when she wraps her arms around me.

“Don’t worry,” she says into my ear. “This will be our secret?—”

She breaks off in a yawn.

“Good grief,” she says, pulling back. “You can’t take me anywhere now, can you?” She pats my cheek then goes over and kisses King’s. “I think tomorrow will have to be pie day, if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course, Mom,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, guiding her from the room.

“I’ll just help with the dishes—” she begins.

“No, you won’t,” I tell her. “You’ll get some rest and King will do the dishes.” I wink. “And maybe I’ll deign to help him.”

“Careful, princess,” he says, narrowing his eyes, though his mouth is curved. “You wouldn’t want to start getting me prickly.”

“I hear your warnings, spreadsheet guru,” I tell him, “and I don’t heed them.”

His lips quirk.

I bite back my own smile.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Blinking, I see that Stella’s eyes are amused and her smile is wide and she’s noted every bit of this conversation.

Dumb, probably.

Especially since this can’t continue.

But…

Bantering with King is fun.

So, even though I should end the madness…

I don’t.

I just pick up a towel, wave it at him after he’s shown his mom to the hall.

“You wash, I’ll dry.”

Suddenly he’s in my face, hands on my hips, body pressed close.

My pulse jumps and my lungs hitch, my stomach going all fluttery. “What are you doing?” I whisper.

A hand tracing up my side. “What I was going to do before the doorbell rang.”

“We should talk about this,” I murmur as he slides that big, warm hand along my torso, inching it higher and higher.

“Talk about what?”

I wince, and he immediately loosens his hold, that big hand gentling even though that’s not what had me grimacing.

“No,” I whisper, taking his hand, drawing it back to my side. “You didn’t hurt me.” The heat of his palm sinks through the material of my shirt, and I go on, “I meant about your mom thinking—” My eyes slice to the side, searching for any sign of her, and even though I don’t find any, I drop my voice further. “—we’re engaged.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, head dropping, his beard catching on the strands of my hair.

---