Page 68 of Tangled

Just as I turn to assess my house one more time, I see headlights flash in the window, directing my attention back to the view of my front yard. The bounce of the white orbs mesmerizes me as my pulse picks up, knowing in just a few short moments, there will be a woman in my home—my place of reprieve—my sanctuary that no other woman has seen.

Her car stops and the headlights shut off just as the porch light activates from the movement of her standing from her car. And when I see her—her long, deep red hair pulled up off her neck, her eyes sparkling from the glow of the porch light, her long legs covered in black leggings and knee-high boots and a navy coat warming her body—all of my anxiety ceases to exist.

Instead, all I feel is need—a need for her to be right next to me—in my arms, in my home.

I gather my wits and race for the door, opening it before she has a chance to knock.

“Hi,” she smiles as soon as she sees me and fuck, if it doesn’t send a dagger of hope to my chest.

“Hey, beautiful. Come on in,” I say, holding the door open for her as she steps inside, shivering from the cold atmosphere outside. The rush of icy air offers a reprieve from the intense heat climbing in my body from my nerves, but I shut the door quickly as to not let the warmth of the house escape.

“Let me take your coat,” I offer, helping her discard her jacket and hanging it in the closet by the front door. “Well, welcome. This is my home,” I wave my hand through the air, directing her attention to the living area directly to the left of the door. The high ceilings with wooden beams create an open concept living area, connecting the living room, dining room, and kitchen. The couch and a recliner are situated around a handmade coffee table I built with my grandfather before he passed, directed at the flat screen TV hanging on the wall. Behind the furniture is a fireplace, roaring with flames from the logs I lit earlier today to warm up the house before the cold made it impossible.

I grab Olivia’s hand as I lead her through the living room and into the kitchen which opens up to the living room space, directing her to take a seat at the island covered in white marble.

“Kane, your house is beautiful. Was it like this when you moved in?”

“Not everything. I’ve done a lot of the work myself or with help from Drew and the boys at school—Holt and Tanner that is, not our students.”

Olivia laughs at my joke before turning back around to admire my house. I have to say—the fact that she approves makes my heart swell with pride.

“Well, it’s amazing. Seriously—it’s like a modern-day log cabin in the woods. And it’s so quiet out here… no wonder you love it,” she says before turning back to me. “Thank you for having me here.”

I relish in the sincerity of her tone and then move the evening forward.

“You’re welcome. So, I hope you’re hungry.”

“Always,” she smirks, leaning forward on the counter, resting her chin in her hands propped up on her elbows. She looks adorable and I want to kiss that smirk off of her face.

Focus, Kane. Food first, kissing later.

“Okay, well the food won’t take long. I have the rice in the rice cooker and I just have to throw the salmon and veggies in the oven to roast,” I declare while moving around the kitchen to gather the ingredients. I purposely chose something quick and easy, and something I knew I couldn’t fuck up, not wanting to risk the distraction of her while I was cooking, causing me to burn our meal.

“Oh, fancy,” she teases. “Can I help?”

“You can pour us some wine,” I nod in her direction, drawing her attention to the bottle and wine opener on the other side of the island.

“You got it. So, do you cook a lot? Or is this something you only do on occasion?” Olivia moves off of her seat, reaching for the bottle and twisting into the cork.

“Confession?”

“Of course,” she gleams, fully intrigued by what I’m about to share with her.

“One of my guilty pleasures is watching cooking shows. Chopped is a personal favorite, but I really watch them all. One of my favorite things to do is try to recreate a recipe I see or fiddle around in here with what I have and see what I can make,” I shrug while placing the two thick slices of salmon on a baking sheet, drizzling them both with olive oil.

“Oh my gosh, that’s too cute, Kane,” she laughs, handing me a glass of wine as she makes her way around the island and closer to me.

“Cute?”

She nods. “Yeah, way too cute. I’d love to see you in action, prancing around your kitchen, whistling and probably cooking with your shirt off, right?”

I quirk my eyebrow at her. “Prance? I don’t prance, babe. I fuckingownthis kitchen. And yes… there are no shirts involved,” I say while leaning into her, the pupils of her eyes dilating the closer I get. I get a whiff of her scent, sweet and floral, and all I want to do is knock that wine glass out of her hands and crash my mouth down to hers.

I hear her gulp, then quickly draw a sip of wine from her glass, breaking our gaze. I know she can sense the sexual tension, which I plan on releasing soon.

I smile to myself as I turn back around to season the fish and veggies and pop them in the oven. “So, would you like me to show you the rest of the place while we wait for the food?”

“Absolutely,” she nods. I reach out for her hand, interlacing our fingers together and walk her down the hallway to point out the bathroom and spare rooms—one operating as an office and the other as my home gym—before we make it to my bedroom.

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