Page 38 of His Secret Gift

“Indeed,” I murmur, my voice rough with barely contained longing. And for a moment, all I can think about is how much I want to taste her lips, for real this time, to feel her body pressed against mine. But the cold reality of our circumstances keeps me in check, and I know that this—whatever it may be—is nothing more than a beautiful, forbidden dream.

“Kayla,” I say, my voice low and controlled, “is there any way you could make me some more of that sleepy tea or whatever it was?”

I watch as her grin falls. “Oh.” She raises her glass and takes another drink. “That’s all you wanted.”

I can feel the tension in the air between us, a live wire connecting our bodies, and I know I need to put some distance between us before it becomes too much. I exhale loudly through my nose and say, “Yes.”

A flicker of hurt crosses her face, but she quickly smooths it away, her eyes meeting mine with unwavering honesty. “I’m not like Harper, you know,” she whispers quietly. “Not money, not fame, not a promotion, nothing.”

There’s something about the way she says it – the sincerity in her voice, the vulnerability in her gaze – that makes me believe her.

“Then what do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady despite the emotions churning inside me.

She looks out at the ocean for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before turning back to me. “Well, afterthatnight on the shore, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. But now I understand our predicament. Now, I guess… I thought that you could maybe use a friend.”

I scoff and run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface at her words about our current situation—and the forbidden nature of any potential relationship—and her insinuation that I need a companion in life. People are always telling me that. “I’m not the type to have friends,” I tell her, bitterness replacing my desperation and seeping into my words.

She sneers before sniffing and rubbing at her nose. “Everyone needs a friend, Jack,” she later insists gently, her eyes never leaving mine.

She has this effect on me that no other woman has.I lean against the railing, feeling the cool metal press into my back as I study her. The moonlight casts a soft glow on her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her cheekbone and the tenderswell of her lips. She’s beautiful, and in this moment, it feels almost like she’s a dream—one that I know will slip through my fingers if I try to hold on too tight.

“Maybe,” I finally concede, my voice barely more than a whisper. “But not tonight. Tonight, I need sleep. So, will you help me?”

She tips her glass once more before discarding it on a nearby table. “Fine. But this time, I’m going to teach you how to make it yourself.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. The kitchen is my happy place.

When I follow her inside, she gets all the ingredients from the cupboards.

“Are you ready? It’s a really complicated process.”

“I think I can handle it.”

She then pours some water into two mugs, sticks them in the microwave, and then steeps tea in them for a few minutes.

“You’re sure? Watch very closely.”

I cross my arms and bend down before I nod.

She collects the Thermos from the dish rack, unscrews the cap, and then pours a little bit of each liquid inside before reclosing it and shaking it all up.

“Okay, now what?”

She laughs. “That’s it.”

“That’s it? I thought you said it was complicated.”

Her head throws back. “I was just kidding.”

I grab a towel and pretend to snap it at her.

We share another sweet moment, just looking at each other. Until I ask, “So, are you dating anyone?”

Her jaw drops. “My, my, Mr. Shelley, that’s rather personal, don’t you think?” she replies, her eyebrows raised in mock indignation before she grins. “I’m just teasing. No, I’m notdating anyone.” With that, she leans against the counter next to me, her body so close that I can feel the heat radiating off her.

Then, after sucking in air through her teeth, she continues, “Since we’re sharing… I once dated this guy named Simon,” she begins, her eyes fixed on something on the other side of the room. “Everyone told me I was out of his league, but he made me feel like I had someone, and I made him feel like he mattered.” I watch as her jaw clenches. “He ended up cheating on me with one of my closest friends. I haven’t been able to look at another man since.”

“Kayla, I’m so sorry,” I say sincerely, feeling a pang of sympathy for her. If anyone knows what being cheated on feels like, it’s me. I’m also grateful for the wine in her system for making her so open and vulnerable to me.

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