Page 113 of The Matchmaker Club
Two fresh banana breads lay on the counter. I took a slice from the silver pan and poured myself a coffee.
“Good morning.” Lucas opened the refrigerator. 8:47 a.m. on a weekday. The laptop was still under his arm, but it was progress.
“Morning.” I headed to the table.
Lucas sat down with a glass of milk and banana bread, then opened his laptop.
“No coffee?”
“Trying to cut back on caffeine.”
Huh.
I took a bite of my bread. So good.
The sound of milk bubbles stilled me. I stopped chewing and looked up. Lucas now had a straw in his glass. He blew again, forming foam at the top. He let out a chuckle.
“Are you blowing bubbles in your milk?”
“I am.”
“So, what do you think?”
He blew again, the milk bubbles spilling over. “Not bad.”
I looked down at the mess. “Are you going to clean that up?”
He smiled. “Nope.”
I got up and grabbed a towel from the drawer. Before I had a chance to wipe down the table, his arms were around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. The next second my grandmother shuffled in and I tried to get up—but Lucas held me tighter.
My grandmother poured her coffee, looked over at us, and shook her head. “It’s about damned time.”
We both laughed as she headed toward the parlor.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Do we dare try kissing again?”
He caressed the side of my face, and I could’ve melted in his arms right then and there. “I triple dog dare you to kiss me.” His inner light was shining everywhere now.
My fingers traced his jawline and slid to the side of his neck. His freshly shaven face was soft to the touch. Closing my eyes, I leaned forward until my mouth was on his. His lips lightly explored mine, reminding me of delicate butterfly wings brushing against my skin. Our usual intense buzz felt more like floating. Everything so still and quiet and peaceful.
He let out a breath, staring into my eyes. “I’ve never felt anything like your kiss.”
“It’s not my kiss. It’sourkiss.”
He hugged me closer, nuzzling his face in my neck and stealing light kisses along the curve.
His laptop dinged with a message from his father.
Call me. Immediately.
“Your father wants you to call him.”
Lucas looked to the screen and ran a hand across his mouth. “Yeah. He’s not happy that I’ve decided to stay a bit longer.”
I traced a finger along his arm, avoiding his eyes. “Does he know about me? I mean, us?”
“Not yet, but I think he has an idea. I want to have that talk with him in person.”
