Page 32 of Centering Kaos

“Inoperable brain tumor. We’d only been married a few months when they found it.”

She sounded so sterile, like a doctor delivering a diagnosis. My heart went out to her, but I had no idea what to say.

“At the time, I was working a stressful job at a big insurance company, and I couldn’t keep it together. But I had bills, and Bry’s life insurance didn’t go nearly far enough to cover them. I had to sell my house. Darius offered to buy it, but I couldn’t… Bry and I had purchased it together and everything about it reminded me of him. I couldn’t keep it. Darius let me move in here and he fired his cleaning lady to give me a job. I lived here and kept the place up for him while he was in the service.”

“He really is a nice guy, isn’t he?” I asked.

“He’s the best. I don’t know what I would have done without him. It’s been five years since I lost Bry, and my family thinks it’s time for me to move on. They keep trying to set me up. This place is my escape,” she explained. “Like a little oasis of wine and cleaning products.”

After the windows, we started laundry and I swept the downstairs while she dusted. We had just met back up to tackle the downstairs bathroom when Kaos appeared in the doorway with a food bag in hand. He was wearing the same black leather vest over a fitted white T-shirt, jeans, and boots he’d left in. My gaze was immediately drawn to the way his short sleeves hugged his muscular biceps. He had great forearms, too. They flexed as he held up the bag and asked, “You two feel like takin’ a break?”

Heat blossomed in my cheeks when I realized I was staring—and possibly drooling—and I dropped my gaze.

Beside me, Carisa shifted, dropping her sponge into the tub. “Absolutely.” She grabbed my arm and held me back for a moment as Kaos walked away. “You didn’t tell me it was like that,” she whispered.

More heat blazed in my cheeks. “Like what?”

She chortled, and the devious gleam in her eyes set me on edge. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Pretending I didn’t have the first clue what she was talking about, and failing miserably, I let her tug me along as she followed Kaos into the kitchen. He sat at the end of the bar, and Carisa planted herself two stools down, gesturing for me to sit between them. Bad idea. Very bad idea. That would put me entirely too close to the man for comfort, and I had no idea how my body would react. My brain screamed at me to abort mission and flee from the room, but I didn’t want to look like a raving lunatic. I probably wouldn’t even think about the last time we were together in his kitchen, while he was bare-chested with that tantalizing happy trail leading down to…

No!

Locking down those dangerous thoughts, I squeezed in beside him, brushing against his arm. Gritting my teeth, I ignored the sparks that erupted at the contact. Butterflies did gymnastics in my stomach, but I couldn’t be bothered with those, either. I scooted away from him, as far as the seat would allow. My entire body revolted at the sudden distance between us, and I had to force myself not to lean against him. Posture so rigid I probably looked like there was a stick up my butt, I fought to maintain control.

Kaos handed me a gyro. Our fingertips brushed, and I didn’t know whether to grab his hand or to wipe the memory of his touch off on my leggings. I settled for wrapping both my hands securely around the sandwich in a death grip so I wouldn’t lose my mind and do something stupid.

Like straddle him.

Straddling him would feel so good.

And it would be so bad.

Carisa was watching me. I could feel her gaze burning a hole in the side of my head, but I refused to look at her. She was already onto me, and the fire raging in my cheeks had to be giving her all the confirmation she needed. Thankfully, she leaned forward and looked past me, “Where have you been all day, cuz?”

“The club. What have you two been up to? Besides drinking up all my wine.” He gestured toward the empty bottle on the counter.

“We went grocery shopping,” Carisa said. “For actual groceries. Turns out your girl here can cook and is willing to use her culinary skills on you.”

“We’re just friends,” I said at the same time Kaos asked me, “You wanna cook?”

“Friends,” I said again, unsure of why I felt it necessary to repeat myself. “And yes, cooking is the least I can do. You’re letting us stay here.”

He held my gaze, and I got the feeling he was searching for something in my eyes, but I had no idea what. “You don’t have to do that,” he said. “Or anything. Bad enough that Carisa has you doin’ her job. You’re guests.”

Carisa snorted. “As if I could stop her.”

“I like to cook,” I said.

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Well, I like to eat, so…” Unwrapping his gyro, he took a bite.

His mouth was fascinating. Full lips surrounded by a well-groomed mustache and goatee. Stubble dusted his jaw and the lower half of his cheeks. He swallowed and his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down.

“That’s settled then,” Carisa said.

I practically jumped out of my skin but recovered by pushing out of my seat—this time, toward Carisa—and leaping halfway across the kitchen.

“You okay there, Tina?” Carisa asked with far too much laughter in her voice.

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