Page 58 of When The Rain Falls

“We?” I ask. I grab the coffee machine from against the wall and pull it closer to the edge of the counter.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to come.”

“Aimee,” I sigh, completely frustrated. “Comewhere? I have no idea what’s happening,” I say as I fumble around the buttons on the machine.

“Relax, bear.” She laughs, scooting her ass closer to me. “You look like you’re going to be kidnapped.”

“I have a feeling that I am.”

“We’re having a festive fall day. It’ll be fun. We’re going to get pumpkin spice coffee, then we’ll hit up the pumpkin patch, then go Halloween decoration shopping, then, who knows where we’ll end up?” I push Aimee’s ass down the counter an inch or two and pull out a drawer. I remember how it felt to run my fingers over the curve of her round cheek. And I want to fucking kiss her again. This is terrible. I think.

“It’s only September,” I scold her. “It’s too early for Halloween.”

She gives a mock gasp as her palm flies to her chest. “Howdareyou. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.Thistime.”

"Hmph." I look down my nose at her wide, brown eyes; vivid and bold with humor and energy at 8:00 in the morning on a fucking weekend. "That's weird," I say as I pull a coffee pod out of the drawer.

"What's weird?"

"I don't remember summoning the devil this morning." I decide that if Aimee’s anything, she’s part devil. All seduction and temptation. And impossible to resist at the moment.

"You think I'm the devil?" Aimee laughs, clearly amused.

"Either that or you work for him," I say. I pop the coffee pod into the coffee maker.

"I would never work for the devil," she says solemnly. "I'd be an independent contractor. You know, so I could pick my own hours." A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth at that comment. I turn my head away from Aimee, prop both hands on the counter, and bite my lip.

"Hey, stop making coffee," Aimee scolds. I put my hands up in surrender and slowly turn around to face her. "You’re ruining the itinerary.”

Her gaze travels down my body and I find her studying me critically. “What do you have to wear?" she asks.

Wait, wear? What the fuck is happeningnow?

"I was planning on wearing clothing. If that's ok with you," I say dryly.

"What kind of clothing?" What kind of clothing? Seriously? Jesus. I lean a hip against the counter.

"Jeans?" I say tentatively, checking her face to see if that was the correct answer. She's looking at me expectantly.

"And?" she prods.

"And a t-shirt?"

"Wrong," she says. "Flannel or plaid. We’re going for a fall vibe. Do you have one of those cute knit hats?"

I glare at her. I glaresohard.

"You'renot wearing flannel or plaid," I point out.

"What a good boy. Look at you, so observant," she teases. "I,” she emphasizes, “am wearing a chunky sweater and booties. Fall. Vibe." She gestures across her body. Her tight jeans look almost painted onto her body and I kind of want to take a giant bite out of her. I mean, she did bite me…Fair is fair. By my count, she still owes me one bite and one more kiss. And then we’ll be even.

"What if my t-shirt has a skeleton on it?" I ask her.

"You have one of those?" she asks, a mix between surprised and hopeful.

"It's a hypothetical question," I point out, crossing my arms. Aimee blows out a breath in a way that says,stop wasting my time,which I find ironic considering she's the one who woke me up at eight in the morning to tell me what to wear to a pumpkin patch. Her mouth forms into a pout and I’m trying not to think about what I could do with those lips.

"You get dressed. I'll go wake up the girls," she says. With that, she bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I followbehind her as I head to my own room. I don't hate the view. Not at all.

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