Page 34 of Bourbon & Bonfires

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“I ... I have no words. You’ve kissed me stupid.”

“You could never be stupid, babe. If you don’t believe me, I’m happy to do it again to prove my point.”

Addison laughs at me, the fine lines around her eyes appearing and I can’t help myself as I steal a few more kisses from her. These are less intense but with no less feeling and need. Instead of continuing our assault on each other’s mouths, I pull her to my lap as I sit on one of the chairs. Reaching down, I lay the blanket she was using over us as she cuddles into my lap, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Don’t overthink it, Addy.”

“You called me Addy.”

“I did. Don’t overthink it. Let’s just have tonight. We can figure it all out later.”

“I’m still too old for you.”

“We’ll agree to disagree. Now watch the fire burn out with me, and as soon as your lips are up for it, put them back on mine, so I can taste you again.”

Her laughter wraps me up warmer than this blanket or the fire, and I know I’m falling hard for this woman.

Since our night at Jameson’s property, Addison seems more open to spending time with me. Of course, a few of the times we’ve hung out have been sharing a pizza—and salad—with Mason while he and I battle it out on the Xbox. It’s been what one may calldomesticand I don’t mind it all.

I think in the grand scheme of things, I’m the one who is supposed to have the issues with dating a single mom. I don’t. I also don’t have a problem with our age difference. It’s eight years not thirty. When we’re together, only us or with Mason, there is no age difference, and there is no baggage. There’s just us, and we’re good together. We laugh, we talk, we tease, and we make out like a couple of horny teenagers until my balls can’t take it anymore and I have to go home to a cold shower or a little self-love. As much a I would love to have Addison in my bed, naked and begging me for more, we aren’t there yet. Well, she isn’t there yet. I was there on New Year’s Eve.

“Tonight counts as our third Friday night dinner,” Addison says as she hands me a napkin and settles into the far end of the couch from me.

“I don’t think so. Hanging out at your house eating street tacos and drinking beer is hardly the same thing,” I scoff.

“It counts. What happens now?” Addison asks me quietly before taking a bite of her taco.

“What do you mean, Turnip?” While Addison takes three bites to eat one taco, I manage in two and then take a swig of my beer as I wait for her to respond.

“That nickname is truly awful,” she says, rolling her eyes and smiling. I shrug because I know it’s awful, but it also makes her smile. “I mean, Landon, you said three Friday night dinners. This is the third, our third Friday night.”

I take another drink from my beer before placing it on the coffee table followed by the tray of tacos separating us before grabbing her hand and tugging her to me. She feigns surprise, but she can’t be. Having her on my lap, in my arms, is my preference and she knows it.

“Babe, there is no question there for me to answer. I needed you to commit to three so you would agree to spend time with me. Do you want to stop spending time together?”

Her gaze goes to an invisible piece of lint on my shirt as she picks at it with her fingers and keeps her head down and shakes her head.

“Hey,” I begin as I lift her chin so her gaze is forced up, and our eyes meet. “I have told you since day one I want to spend time with you. I like you, Addy, and want to be with you. You can’t tell me you think anything different.”

I wait for her to respond and when she doesn’t, my heart sinks. “I guess the question is, do you want to be with me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why isn’t it? I like you, you like me. You do, right?” She nods. “Then tell me what’s wrong. Something is bothering you.”

“I think if we end this now, we won’t get hurt, and we can be friends.”

“Wearefriends, Addison. And, we’re more too. Why does it have to be one or the other?” I’m trying to be patient, but this is the same conversation we’ve had more than once in the last three weeks. I’m starting to wonder if she’ll ever be all in.

“I don’t want you wasting your time with me. What if you miss out on the love of your life because you’re here with me and my hot flashes? That’s a real thing, Landon. I know I told you I ate a hot pepper, but I didn’t.” I want to laugh at her confession because if she thought I believed the hot pepper excuse, she doesn’t give me enough credit.

“I’m a woman approaching forty and this is me—hot flashes, lines around my eyes that aren’t from smiling but from life, and a preference to stay home and eat takeout while I binge watch a random television show instead of going to a bar. We won’t talk about what happens when gravity takes over.” This time I do laugh, which garners me a smack on the chest.

“Landon, you’re just thirty. You have your whole life ahead of you and you’re ... you’re so great with kids. You will be a wonderful father. If you date me, you could miss the chance to have that.”

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