Instead of trying to forget about the kiss, like Declan did, the memory has been running on a loop in my mind. And to make things worse, I’ve taken to watching him every morning, as if that could in any way help me move on from this unrequited… What? Infatuation?
I stay in the shadows before entering the kitchen and watch him preparing breakfast for his kids. I feel like I’m secretly intruding on their sacred, special moments, but I can’t help myself.
To my disappointment—I mean luckily—he’s been fully dressed every morning, unlike that first time.
He dances around the kitchen with proficiency, and chats with the kids about their day and schedule.
Some days he looks tired, showing up out of duty more than enthusiasm, going through the motions because it’s on his calendar, but he always shows up, and I admire him for that.
I also admire the way his sinewy body moves, his muscles bulging as he flips pancakes. Or whenhe opens the fridge.
I have it bad for him.
“Would you like a pancake, Lily?” His voice pours over me with its chocolate-like decadence, and a dose of shock.
Shit. He knows I’ve been lurking?
“Good morning.” I trip into the kitchen, steadying myself on the counter.
“Good mowning.” Zoya swings the fork with a syrup-coated pancake in the air.
“Morning,” Zach grumbles.
“Pancake?” Declan growls at me. Is he annoyed?
Why on earth I find him attractive is beyond me. Perhaps if we spend more time together, my feelings will settle.
“No, thank you.” I don’t look at him.
I’m embarrassed he caught me snooping. Also, I haven’t looked him in the eyes since the night of the kiss, and I really don’t want to do that. His intense gaze always robs me of my sanity. Even more than his voice.
“Thank you for breakfast, Dad.” Zach slides down and ambles away, deep in thought. I should investigate what’s going on.
“Ready, Zoya?” I smile.
“These wewe pewfect, Daddy. Thank you. Awe you coming with me, Lily?” She bounces to the floor and skips around. The girl is alwaysin motion.
“I need to talk to Lily,” Declan says. “Go get your things, sweetheart.”
Fuck.
Zoya rushes away, and we’re left alone in the kitchen. My shoulders stiffen, and I start collecting the dishes after the kids. Anything to avoid him.
“I’m working from home today, so I can spend time with the kids before the function tonight.”
I open the dishwasher and put the plates in. “Okay.” Why is my voice high-pitched?
“Are you still okay to stay longer tonight? I’m not sure how long I’ll be, so feel free to stay in the guest room. I don’t want you to travel across town only to come back a few hours later.”
“Okay.” I move a fruit bowl and continue looking for things to do that keep me in motion, and without a direct need to look at him.
“Have you found a new apartment yet?”
In my periphery, I see him leaning against the kitchen counter casually, and suddenly I’m really pissed that he unsettles me this much. That, somehow, he reduces me to a bundle of anxiety and nerves and lust, and then he mocks me with his nonchalant attitude.
“I don’t see how that is any of your business.” I fold my arms across my chest and glare at him.
First tactical mistake. There was a good reason foravoiding his gaze. His eyes hold mine before they drop to my cleavage. Second mistake, but I refuse to drop my arms because his eyes roam.