Page 48 of Unexpected Love
His eyes drop to my lips, then drift over my face. I could live my life watching this man watch me.
“I am happy.” The words are low, for my ears only, and I nearly melt out of my chair. I want him. Maybe it’s the beer talking. Maybe it would be a colossal mistake. I’m way too old for him, and he’s way out of my league and has a kid. But damn, do I want him.
He drags his gaze back to his handiwork. “The coffee shop is looking great, and we should be ready to open any day. I’ve had a good couple of shifts. My old boss from NFD is now working for the county. Got permanently placed at a good station with a crew that I like.”
“And that made you happy?”
He chuckles. “Mac coming over did, for sure. He’s good people and a helluva leader. And my crew is solid.”
“And that makes you happy? Why?”
He does the flip thing again while he ponders his answer. “You know, the fire service is known for its brotherhood. I mean, that’s what it’s supposed to be, right? You spend the majority of your life with these guys, and you’ve got to trust them with your life. So you want to be with good people.”
“It makes sense that you’d feel more confident if you had a good working relationship.”
He shrugs. “It’s more than that. I think I went into it expecting to fall into this big, happy firehouse family. But where I was, I didn’t have that. Other guys at other stations did. I got a taste of it from time to time when I filled in at other stations. But where I was, the crew I was with…” He lifts one shoulder and tilts his head. “I don’t know, we trusted each other, but we weren’t family.”
“And you feel like you have that now?”
“Maybe? It’s still new, but we’re off to a good start.”
I lean closer to him, pressing my shoulder to his, because I suddenly need to touch him. Hug him. “You were looking for a family.”
He focuses on the yarn for a beat too long, and at the end of the row, he pauses. I’m mesmerized by his hands, still leaning into his shoulder. I watch as his hand lifts to my face, and then it’s cupping my jaw as he lifts my chin. Our eyes connect, and I fall into the depths I see in his.
“The family thing is complicated. But yeah, I think I’ve been looking for something for a long time.”
He presses a soft kiss to my lips. The barest lick of his tongue, the slightest suction.
It’s erotic and sensual yet sweet at the same time. I nearly fall off my seat as he pulls away. If we were anywhere other than a public space, I’d crawl right into his lap for more kisses like that.
He goes back to knitting like he hasn’t just rocked my world. I drop my head to his shoulder and take another slug of my beer.
“I thought you didn’t like beer,” he says, shifting a little in his seat, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s as affected by me. It’s not the time or place, and I can’t wait until it is.
“I don’t, usually, but this is good.”
His lips brush my forehead. “So tell me what good thing happened to you today.”
“Well, I got the inspection scheduled. Spent some time with Maggie, organizing our table for the spring market day. And Lissette and I had a good talk without her going off on a tangent.”
“You’ve been fighting with her?” He shifts enough that I have to move or fall over. When I sit up, he’s watching mewith that hungry look that I’m really starting to like. The one I’ve imagined every single night while I pleasure myself to fantasies of him.
But Cal and I haven’t talked about my issues with Lissette, mainly because I’ve been avoiding the reality that my best friend is driving me crazy.
But suddenly, I need to share, to get off my chest the heartache that arguing with Lissette is creating. “She’s doing her thing where she tries to take over. It doesn’t matter what it is. She’s always got the best ideas, so she thinks. But in this case, it’s a matter of different expectations. Different goals. And her not understanding my vision. She’s only seeing her side and not taking my viewpoint into consideration.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“Well, no.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not worth the argument.”
“But avoiding the conversation is making it hard on you. Isn’t it easier to have the argument and get it over with? Move on?”
“Ew, conflict.” I sit up and turn away, depositing my now-empty beer on the table behind us. I don’t want him to see how deeply that particular trait goes.
