Page 386 of Steamy Ever After

“Chores?” I lift on tiptoe, cupping his chin as I place a chaste kiss on his mouth. “You’re a grown man. You don’t do chores.”

“Chores. Work. It’s all the same. I’d love to see you tonight, but I’ll probably be working late.”

I bite my lower lip, unable to stop the show of my disappointment, but then he laughs again. Drake reaches for me and pulls me tight to his chest.

“You’re my permanent Friday and Saturday night date. How does Friday sound?”

“It sounds like a really long time from now.”

His lips curve. The scaring on his face distorts the smile, but his eyes twinkle with mirth. Someday, I’ll be bold enough to ask about that scar.

“If I can, I’ll call sooner. But for now, let’s plan on Friday.”

I pick at his shirt, remembering what his skin felt like beneath my palms. “Another movie night?”

“Yeah, we’ll have another movie night. Minus the movie part.” The wicked grin on his face turns my insides to mush.

Apparently, Drake turns me into a needy, sex-crazed lunatic. Which is totally fine by me.

“Sounds wonderful.” Thinking about sex with Drake sets off needy pulsations between my legs. I could go another few rounds with him.

Drake leans down, kisses me senseless, then waits for me to open the door. After I head in, I glance back outside and watch his truck disappear around the corner. With a deep sigh, I shut the door and lean my forehead against the warm wood.

What an incredible night.

A throat clears behind me, and I spin around. My uncle sits on the couch, looking gaunt and pale. A threadbare afghan covers his lap, one I recognize from when I was a kid. My aunt knitted that for him, giving it to him as a gift.

While my heart breaks with his illness, he appears at peace. That makes some of this easier for me. I’m not ready to lose my uncle, but his entire being lit up when he said he would soon join my aunt. I have to find comfort in his joy.

“Late night?” He takes a sip of water and waits for my answer.

“You didn’t wait up for me, did you?”

“No. I just got up. Made some breakfast. It’s in the kitchen but might be cold by now.”

“I had breakfast at Shelly’s Diner.”

“Ah…” He takes another sip while I wait for him to ask the obvious, but my uncle’s having too much fun watching me squirm.

Why do I feel like a recalcitrant teenager who got caught sneaking home? The silence is killing me.

My uncle takes another slow sip, eyes simmering with amusement as I pick at nonexistent lint on my skirt.

“What?” I can’t stand it any longer and wring my fingers together.

“Nothing.” Another sip. “You’re a grown woman.”

“Aren’t you going to ask where I’ve been?”

“Not my place.”

Not his place? He’s sure looking at me like my father used to when I broke curfew growing up.

“So, you’re not going to ask?”

Another sip. He smooths out the afghan on his lap, pointedly not looking at me. He picks up the book he was reading, turns the page, then looks back up at me.

“Do you want me to ask?” He turns his attention back to the book, pointedly ignoring me.