Page 37 of Teasing a King

“Shut up,” I mutter. But I’m still smiling.

I think about the way the night had begun and how upset I’d been before Van had come to my room. He’d somehow managed to chase away my bad mood and make me laugh. And he’d done it all with some baggy sweatpants and a pizza. A warmth spreads through me and it’s hard not to attach more meaning to it than I should.

Van hasn’t done or said anything to indicate that this is anything more than two friends hanging out. He’s been charming and funny, but he’s steadfastly kept to his side of the couch all night. Yes, he’d invited me to dinner tonight. I’d initially thought that maybe he’d meant it to be a date. But I hadn’t asked him to clarify his intentions. And Van hadn’t offered up any clues that he’d meant it to be a real date. Do I want it to be a real date?Duh, Mya,I think.What kind of stupid question is that?

Of course, I want it to be a real date. I shouldn’t. But I do. I can’t go on pretending that what I feel for Van is strictly platonic. I like him. A lot. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready to act on those feelings. Besides, I don’t know how Van feels. And I don’t know if I’m ready to find out.

Chapter Sixteen

Mya

The next day, I resolve to keep my distance from Van. In his presence, I’m far too tempted to act on my attraction to him. Plus, I want to see if he’ll make a move or do something to let me know what he wants. It turns out, I don’t have to worry about avoiding Van. When I wake up, he’s already outside, working in the backyard. Even though it’s early, the sun is already blazing hot, and his shirt is darkened with sweat and sticking to his body. I stand in the window, watching him for several minutes. The muscles of his arms flex and stretch as he arranges paving stones. He straightens, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving a smudge of dirt behind. It isn’t until he stops to take a drink of water and I’m watching his throat flex as he swallows that I realize I’ve been standing at the window watching him for more than ten minutes.

Get it together, Mya.

I force myself to turn away from the view of the backyard and Van and find something else to occupy my attention. I can’t expect the man to spend every minute entertaining me. Resolved to the idea of spending the day alone, I move around the house, cleaning things that are already clean. It’s not the best use of my time, but it’s better than pining over a man who hasn’t given any indication that he wants me. I also rearrange the clothes in my closet and clean out the refrigerator. Within a few hours, I’m bored out of my mind.

I could call Hope, I know. She’d probably drop everything to hang out with me if I asked her. But I won’t. This is the one weekend this month that both Van and Wyatt are free from working at Mack’s. Hope and Wyatt have a cake tasting this afternoon for their wedding. I won’t bother her just because I’m bored. I’ll just have to find some other way to keep busy.

I dust the shelves in the living room that are filled with framed photos of the King family. I see photos of all five King siblings as kids. Van and Wyatt at what looks like their high school graduation. Even back then, they were easy to tell apart. Van’s hair is shorter and there’s a subtle difference in his expression that seems so obvious to me.

There’s a family photo of Finn, Hannah and Liam that makes me smile. There’s also a photo of a couple I’ve never met, but that I know must be Van’s parents. The man in the photo looks so much like the King brothers that there can be no mistaking the relation. And Claire looks nearly identical to the woman standing next to him. I smile as I study the image, cataloging the similarities between Van and his parents. I envy his connection to his family, even as I do my best not to think of my own. I’ve outgrown the childish fantasies of some long-lost family that wants to know me. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t outrun the pain that comes with knowing I’ll never have the type of close family bonds the King family has.

When the doorbell rings, I’m more grateful for the distraction than curious about who it might be. I rush to the front door and open it, but there’s no one there. Instead, there’s a massive brown, cardboard box sitting on the porch. A delivery truck drives off before I can wonder how I’m going to get this thing into the house. I stand there with my hands on my hips, studying the box. Printed on the side in large, block letters are the words, “Team lift: 86 lbs.” Not that I needed that to tell me I wouldn’t be able to lift it. I’d already come to that realization on my own.

Reading the other side of the box, I discover what’s inside. It’s the crib Van and I ordered. I hadn’t realized it would be delivered so soon. I smile as I bend down to look at the box. Maybe I can open it and bring it upstairs in pieces. I wonder how many trips up and down the stairs that will take.

“Don’t you dare try to drag that box inside,” Van says from behind me.

His voice startles me from my thoughts. Suddenly unsteady, I reach out a hand toward the doorframe to keep from falling. My hand doesn’t touch smooth wood, however. Instead, I feel warm muscle, damp with sweat. Alarmed, I look up and see Van standing there. My hand is resting on the bare skin just above his knee. I jerk my hand from his thigh so quickly that I lose my balance and fall back on my ass.

Van drops down beside me immediately, concern etched on his face. “Are you okay?” he asks, reaching for me.

I scramble to my feet before Van can help me. The last thing I need is for him to touch me right now. My hand still tingles from the brief contact with his leg.

“I’m fine,” I say without meeting his gaze. My voice comes out higher than usual.

“Are you sure?” I can hear the concern in his voice.

“Yep,” I say. “Totally fine.” I point to the box. “They delivered the crib early,” I say, trying to direct his attention away from me.

It seems to work, because Van bends down to look at the box. My eyes stray down, watching the way his shorts stretch tight across his ass as he bends over. The urge to reach out and touch him is so strong I clench my hands into fists to stop myself from doing just that. He looks back over his shoulder at me with a smile. My gaze shoots back to his face and I feel my cheeks redden. Hopefully Van won’t notice.

“That was fast,” he says. “I thought it would take longer.”

I nod. “Me too.”

I move aside as Van wrestles the heavy box inside. Once it’s in the house and the door is closed, he looks from the box to the stairs and back to me. I know he’s wondering the best way to get the thing up the stairs and into the baby’s room. I don’t doubt that he can lift the weight. Hadn’t I just spent entirely too much time watching him heft bags of gravel and sand and move paving stones in the backyard? I know he’s strong enough to lift the box. But it’s massive. With the awkward size of the box, it would likely take two people to get it up the stairs.

“Maybe we can open it and carry the pieces upstairs?” I suggest.

Van nods. “That’s probably the best idea.”

“What about the backyard?” I ask. “I thought you were working on it today?”

Van shrugs. “I can work on it later,” he says. “It’s too damned hot anyway. Besides, I’d much rather put the crib together than sweat in the hot sun.” He looks down at his shirt with a grimace. “Speaking of,” he says. “I think I should take a shower before I get to work on this. I stink.”

I don’t think he stinks. He smells like the outdoors and freshly turned dirt. There’s a hint of sweat mixed in, but it’s not an unpleasant smell. I don’t say any of that, though. I don’t want him to think I’ve been smelling him like some weirdo. Though that’s just what I’ve been doing since he appeared beside me in the doorway. Instead, I just nod.

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