Page 8 of Wrong Number, Right Lion

Kalen handed me a take-out coffee.

“Thanks.” He’d discovered I enjoyed a cappuccino and starting yesterday had brought me one on his way here.

I took a sip. It was so good. Thick froth on the top that was like a dessert. Who didn’t love a sweet for breakfast? And beneath the sweetness was strong coffee that got me ready to face the day.

“You like your coffee strong and black.” Kalen drank Americano, and he’d thrown it back as though it was a thimbleful of espresso.

He raised his cup to mine, and we clinked them. “To a good day—no, a great one.”

“I just baked apple cinnamon muffins. They pair well with coffee.”

He glanced at me, his plump kissable lips parted slightly, and I strained to see his tongue poking through. The same tongue thatwould make me scream if it got close to my nipple, belly button, or hole.

Oops! Maybe I shouldn’t have invited Kalen for something to eat because slick was streaming out of my hole. I’d need a change of clothes.

“Then you should have one. Or maybe two.”

His words pierced the vision of his mouth on me. “Oh, I intend to.” My mind rewound what I’d said. “But I was offering you some.”

“You enjoy cooking?”

“Enjoy might be too strong a word, but I had apples that needed to be used up.”

“I’d love to taste something you made with your two hands.”

I gripped the porch railing as my knees buckled. Every word out of his mouth, no matter how innocent, I interpreted with a slice of lust and shiver of desire.

“I hope they don’t disappoint.” It’d be awkward if they were dry and crumbly.

“Never.” His eyes grew dark, and he licked around his mouth. If he was trying to kill me, he was more than halfway there.

I brought a plate of muffins onto the stairs, and we sat chatting and eating. The muffins got Kalen’s seal of approval, and I decided I’d bake something every morning.

“The garden looks so empty without my tree.” There was a gaping hole where my baby had stood, one I hadn’t filled in. I’d been putting it off, thinking once I did, all traces along with my memories would be erased. But life was full of gains and losses,hellos and goodbyes. Nothing could take away my memories, and I had tons of pics of the garden with my tree in it.

“But you can plant a pretty shrub there or put a bench. It’s the perfect location to drink coffee in the early mornings.”

Maybe he was right.

With the broken shingles removed and a tarp over the roof, Kalen had been fixing the damaged sections. Instead of working in the attic, I’d been in a small room off the living area in case he needed to ask me something. That was what I told myself.

But it’d been distracting having him bounding up and down the ladder, and from the corner of my eye, I’d been observing his physique, his hands as they gripped the rungs, the floppy hat perched on his head and a blob of sunscreen on his nose.

Since he’d started the repairs, I’d been working at night to make up for what I hadn’t done during the day. Spending hours staring at my handyman instead of the computer screen didn’t pay the bills. Who knew?

“Arlo?”

My body was on high alert at my name on Kalen’s lips. More than once since we’d met, his lips had been on mine and my cock swelled, but only in my dreams. I fanned my face, hoping the hot-pink blush would fade before Kalen and I came face to face.

“Coming!” I dashed onto the porch. My handyman had pushed his hat back and was scratching his scalp. His shirt was dotted with sweat and he had one foot on the porch stair, emphasizing the muscles in his thigh.

“I need to come in and examine the ceiling in the kitchen.”

“Sure. You don’t need to ask permission.” But I was glad he did.

Kalen removed his boots and padded inside at my heels. His presence behind me sent goosebumps marching over my skin and flaunting their spiky tips. I shivered.

“Are you cold?” he asked. He’d been outside in the sun, which after days of rain was making up for lost shiny time and blazing down, soaking up any remaining puddles and hardening what had been mud.

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