Page 55 of Just This Once

She looked at me with an expression of skepticism mixed with disbelief. “What do you mean?”

I added the drained pasta to the broth mixture in the skillet, then tossed in lemon zest, a bit more butter, and the shrimp. I tossed the dish together before grabbing two pasta bowls from the cabinet. Mischief danced in my eyes as my plan solidified. “I don’t want you to worry about anything other than eating.”

I heaped a portion of shrimp scampi into a bowl and lifted it for her. “Deal?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled the rich, buttery smell. Her eyes opened and she lifted a brow. “There’s a lot of garlic in that. Are you still going to want to kiss me after?”

I laughed and planted a smacking kiss on her lips. “Honey, I plan to do a whole lot more than just kiss you, and I’m eating it too. Besides, I have an extra toothbrush if that will make you feel better.”

Pink splotches bloomed on her neck and cheeks when I gave her a wink and clinked my fork against hers. Still sitting on my kitchen island, Emily devoured the shrimp scampi.

I watched her scoop portions of pasta and shrimp past her lips, the slick butter making them irresistible. We laughed and talked about everything and nothing in the warm glow of my kitchen.

I wondered if she felt the same shift I did—that somehow we’d gone from going at each other’s throats to going at each other’s clothing without missing a beat. I certainly wasn’t mad at it.

Absently, I rubbed the ache that formed in the center of my chest, knowing it would only get worse when she finally walked out.

TWENTY

EMILY

With a belly fullof the most delicious shrimp scampi I’d ever had, I dipped into the bathroom attached to Whip’s primary bedroom. His room was masculine and held the scent of clean laundry mixed with his cologne.

Despite my teasing, I didn’t really expect to see milk crate end tables and a mattress on the floor, but I definitely did not anticipate seeing how effortlessly put together his home was. Admittedly, the first time I’d been in his home, I hadn’t really taken it in—we’d been too busy tearing our clothes off.

But now that I had the opportunity to really look around, it screamed masculine coziness. In the primary suite, the headboard of his bed was a work of art with its wood grains and elegant lines. It stood as the centerpiece beneath the vaulted ceiling lined with heavy wood beams. Muted tones and carefully chosen textiles created an atmosphere of quiet strength, while the rhythmic creak of a ceiling fan echoed the coastal breeze that filtered through the open windows.

I inwardly groaned at the thought of my own budget linens and haphazardly chosen duvet. It wasfinebut certainly not curated like Whip’s house appeared to be. While I brushed myteeth, I made a mental note to update my bedding on the off chance Whip and I spent some time at my apartment.

Looking around the gleaming, oversize bathroom vanity, I doubted that was necessary. Going to my place would also mean risking someone seeing his truck and finding out about us—something I was still unwilling to do.

This was supposed to be fun. Casual. I couldn’t let the sexy way his eyes darkened when he saw me derail my entire life.

You can do casual.

I stared at my reflection and fluffed my hair before adjusting my boobs in my top. All I needed to do was focus on having fun, and sex with Whip was awhole lotof fun.

I stopped at the doorway to the bathroom and looked into his room. He’d lit a few candles and pulled back the navy sheets on his bed. Whip was removing his watch and placing it on a tray on his dresser when he turned to me.

My heart stuttered.

Casual. Casual. Casual.

I swallowed hard and offered a sultry smile before closing the space between us.

I lookedat the neat rows of empty desks in my classroom, and my eyes filled with tears. I had done it. The kids had lost all interest in school the last few weeks, but we’d limped along and made it to the end of the school year. While my students were in PE, I prepped for one final hour with them as my students.

My classroom was quiet—no scuffing shoes, no scrape of a chair against the linoleum, no raucous laughter interrupting my lesson. My first assignment as a teacher in Outtatowner was officially coming to a close.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Rachel’s voice startled me, and I dipped my head to hide the wave of emotions I was feeling.

I grunted to unclog my throat and swiped under my eyes. “Hey.” I offered her a watery smile, and she kicked off the doorjamb and walked toward me. Her arms wrapped around me and squeezed.

“It’s always a wonder how we make it through, wishing summer would come, and as soon as it does? I immediately miss them.” She squeezed my shoulder and sucked in a breath. “At least the smell is still with us.”

I let my head fall to her shoulder and released a weak laugh. The stench of pubescent teens wasripe, and from April until now, we had practically needed gas masks to survive.

“It really is something. They were driving me bonkers all week, and then today I found myself wishing the clock would slow down.”

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