Page 289 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Tatum:It feels a little early to be shifting my future plans around for him.
Bree:Okay, so take him out of the equation for a sec. Do you like running the catering kitchen enough to keep doing it?
Tatum:That’s part of the problem. I don’t think I do. I love the farm, but the hours are brutal. And I don’t love the cooking enough to make the sacrifice feel worth it. I don’t think I can do this for years on end, but Lennox’s life is here. It’s not like he’s moving anywhere else.
Especially not to California.
Bree:Tatum, if he’s the right man for you, you’ll figure it out. You’ll compromise. You’ll come up with a future that works for the both of you. Could you just work with Lennox?
Tatum:He doesn’t need me at Hawthorne. Especially not since we worked out his staffing issues. Everything is running smoothly now.
Bree:Uh, yeah. Cause you’re brilliant.
Tatum:I was happy to help him. I like to feel useful. And the problem-solving is fun.
Bree:Huh. Can you turn that into a career? Fixing other people’s kitchen problems?
Her question gives me pause, a tiny jolt of electricity rushing through me.
Could I?
There are paid consultants in every other area of business. Surely they exist for restaurants, too. It wouldn’t matter if I wind up going back to L.A., but if I don’t, and I don’t want to do catering forever, could I be a restaurant consultant?
When the shower water cuts off, I send Bree one more quick message.
Tatum:Hey, gotta go. Lennox is almost out of the shower. I’ll check in later.
Bree:I am going to be the BEST big sister and refrain from making a joke about your man in your shower. Byeeee!!
Lennox emerges looking fresh and clean and smelling like my jasmine body wash. Somehow, it smells different on him, the essence of him still rising through.
He drops onto the floor beside me and leans in for a kiss.
“Better?” he whispers against my lips.
“So much better. I smell good on you.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, and I probably won’t be able to sleep tonight for the distraction of smellingyouall over my skin.”
The kiss lingers long enough that I’m half-tempted to shove the box aside and pick a different activity for the evening, but I’ve put this off for too long as it is.
I slide my hand down Lennox’s chest. His T-shirt is warm and slightly damp from his shower-fresh skin, which somehow makes this moment feel more intimate. Not just anyone has access to Lennox in this state, and I suddenly feel incredibly overwhelmed with the privilege.
I let him kiss me for five or ten or . . . one hundred more seconds before I break the kiss with a little groan. “Okay, time to do this. Time to be serious.”
He nips at my bottom lip. “I am being serious.”
I huff out a breath. “Lennox.”
He grins and sits back, leaning on his hands. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m behaving,” he says, then he hops up and retrieves a pocketknife from his bag, opening it and handing it to me hilt first.
Of coursehe has a knife on him.
“Boy scout,” I mumble as I take the knife.
“Eagle scout,” he says with a smirk, and I roll my eyes.
When we tease like this, I almost forget that there’s a giant question mark hanging between us. But the more time I spend with him, the harder it is to ignore. We can’t keep this up forever. We can’t keep ignoring the possibility of there being anend.
