Page 23 of Centering Kaos

Kaos stopped to disengage the security system, and I stepped into the entryway to get my first glimpse of our temporary home. Pristine white walls and gorgeous pale wooden floors drew my attention. I could feel Kaos’s gaze on me as I took in the high ceilings and open floor plan of the living room. Kaos dropped his keys in a bowl on the ebony entry table and gestured me around the corner. Floor to ceiling windows covered most of the walls, and I could see nothing but darkness outside.

I tensed, suddenly worried about what could be out there looking at me. “Whoa. Don’t you feel exposed?” There wasn’t a single curtain in sight.

Kaos shook his head. “Nope. All that’s out there is my backyard, and then a cliff. The yard’s fenced and surrounded by evergreens, so nobody can see in.”

The only portion of the wall not broken up by windows held a metal sheet that stretched from the floor to the ceiling with a gas fireplace insert.

“That’s unique.” I slid closer to get a better look. “And gorgeous.” I spun around. “This whole room is incredible.”

“Thanks,” Kaos said, sounding strangely nervous. “I wanted something… different, and the moment I saw this place, I knew it was perfect. Plenty of space, lots of daylight, low maintenance yard. I’ll have to show you that tomorrow when it’s light outside.”

Overstuffed light grey sofas covered in throw pillows were situated around the fireplace, and before I realized what he was doing, Dylan dropped his luggage and jumped on the nearest sofa. Pillows flew everywhere as he bounced.

Horrified by his behavior, I yelled at him to stop. He turned to give me his best innocent face. “What? I wanted to see how comfortable it is.”

“We don’t jump on furniture,” I admonished. “Apologize to Kaos.”

“Sorry, Kaos.” Dylan dropped his gaze with a pout.

“He doesn’t get out much,” I said by way of explanation. Truthfully, neither of us did, and we’d never been anywhere as nice as this house. The pale floors were unnerving, and I couldn’t stop imagining Dylan’s muddy footprints all over them.

Kaos patted my back. “Don’t worry. All the furniture’s made of damn sturdy material. Has to be, or my nieces and nephews would have destroyed it all months ago.”

I tried really hard to listen to his words, but all my attention had homed in on the hand on my back. Warmth poured from the contact, sending all kinds of signals I wasn’t prepared for throughout my body. When was the last time a man had touched me? Matt and I hadn’t had sex in close to eight months, but there was no intimacy with him. He’d surely never made my stomach flutter like this.

“I want you to make yourselves comfortable here.” Kaos’s hand dropped possessively to my lower back as he turned me away from the fireplace. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the main floor.”

When we reached the kitchen, he dropped his hand, and I felt both relieved and disappointed by the loss of his touch. Trying not to overanalyze my reaction, I took in the dark wood cabinets, pale quartz countertops, and matching stainless-steel appliances. A massive fridge was tucked away near the side-by-side gas range, both of which were surrounded by more counter space than I’d ever seen in a kitchen. Five upholstered stools were tucked under the breakfast bar, and the dark wood table in the adjoining dining room sat twelve.

“You live alone?” I asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of my voice.

Kaos nodded. “I have a big family and we get together often. Sometimes I host.”

“Do you cook?”

“For myself. Occasionally. I mean, I try.” He looked away. “Okay, none of that is true. I’m on a first name basis with all the local Uber Eats, DoorDash, Grubhub, and restaurant delivery people. According to my mother, I am a menace in the kitchen.”

“But this kitchen! How can you own a kitchen like this and not want to cook?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the desire I lack, it’s the skill. I love my house. I don’t want to burn it down.”

After living with a man who believed himself to be perfect, there was something so endearing about Kaos’s self-deprecating humor, I couldn’t help but lean closer to him. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Are you underestimating my ability to cause mass destruction?”

Was he flirting with me? It had been so long, I couldn’t tell. It felt good, though, and a smile tugged at my lips. “I would never. I mean your name is Kaos, after all.”

“Technically, my name is Darius.”

Pleased that he’d given me his real name, I held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Darius.”

Both grinning, we shook.

“Did Kaos come from the military?” I asked.

“No.” He leaned against the bar. “My first coach gave me that. I told you I had some problems with my temper growing up. Whenever Coach heard I was acting out off the ice, he would bench me. I wanted to play, so I got really good at suppressing my anger. Then, as soon as the puck was in play, I’d let it all out. It felt like a balloon being popped. The pressure propelled me all over the place. Coach said it was like I was everywhere all at once, checkin,’ passin,’ scorin,’ causin’ chaos everywhere I went. One day, he started calling me Kaos and it stuck.”

My gaze drifted to Dylan who was pressed up against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows with his hands cupped around his face, trying to see outside. “Mom, you have to see the yard,” he shouted. “It looks so cool!”

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