Page 50 of Just My Luck

“That’s exciting.” I smiled. “The best part of my day was...”

Waking up next to Abel.

Watching him walk to the bathroom with amonsterdangling between his legs.

Seeing him with a backward hat.

Kissing him.

Thinking of him while I was in the shower.

“Probably having this dinner with the four of us. This is so peaceful, and it makes me really happy.”

Abel’s dark eyes assessed me as though he was searching for the lie. He wouldn’t find it. I’d always dreamed of a cozy home where family dinners were the norm. It may be Abel’s home, but for now it was a sanctuary where I had quickly found myself at ease.

I smiled at my daughter. “What’s the best part of your day, Tillie?”

“Abbey from camp and I decided that we’re going to put on a play about space dinosaurs, and I am going to make the costumes!”

“Space dinosaurs.” I laughed. “I love that idea.”

The rest of dinner ebbed and flowed with a comfortable familiarity. Abel mostly stayed quiet and allowed my rambunctious twins to talk over him—and each other—as they shared about their friends, camp, and the rest of their day.

Once supper was over and the kids cleared their plates, I shooed them out of the kitchen and to the backyard with a promise of ice-cream sandwiches later if they got along.

Abel’s knuckles gently tapped on the table before he rose and started clearing his plate.

I noted the misplaced gesture, curious if that was something meaningful, when I went to stop him from cleaning up. “Don’t you dare.” I swatted my hand toward him. “You cooked...again. I can do dishes.”

He picked up his plate. “I don’t mind.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “Well, I do. I already feel like a little bit of a freeloader living in your house, sleeping in your bed. I won’t have you cooking and cleaning.”

Abel stepped forward, his chest brushing against my arm as he towered over me. His large hand grabbed the plate in mine. “I said I’ve got it.”

The deep timbre of his voice rumbled over me, sending sparks frolicking down to my core.

I swallowed hard. “Yes, boss.”

Though I hadn’t meant for my voice to sound quite so breathy, I reveled in the way his body reacted. His deep eyes moved over my face and down to my mouth. I knew he was thinking about the kiss we had shared, and I loved that I wasn’t the only one completely upended by it.

With a twirl, I extracted myself from his magnetic pull and moved toward the cupboard. “Wine?”

Hands full, he gestured toward the pantry. “There’s some in there.”

I laughed. “I know. I bought it. Would you like a glass?”

He shook his head. “I don’t really drink.”

Holding the bottle, I paused. “You own a brewery.”

Quietly, he walked toward me. In the drawer he dug out a wine bottle opener and pulled the bottle from my hands. Without a word, he opened it and set it aside before moving back to the sink.

Abel began rinsing and stacking the dishes, the ring on his left hand glinting in the water. “I like the process of making beer and figuring out new ways to incorporate ingredients, but outside of the occasional drink, I just... don’t, usually.”

“Fair enough.” I shrugged. “Is that why you didn’t want to drink the Wedded Bliss?”

He nodded, and a tiny hit of relief surged through me—at least it wasn’t the fact he was withmethat had him avoiding the aphrodisiac-laced beverage.

---