Page 36 of Keeping You
“I can do it. Just tell me where everything is.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” Before I can talk myself out of it, I press a kiss to her forehead. Gentle. Almost reverent. It feels dangerous. Like a promise I’m not sure I can keep. “Stay in bed. I’ll be right back.”
After rummaging through a couple of kitchen cabinets, I find the coffee and filters, and soon a rich, nutty aroma fills the air as it brews. Hands braced on the edge of the counter, I try to make sense of what the hell happened over the last twenty-four hours.
This wasn’t part of the deal. This wasn’t supposed to matter. But last night? Last night felt real in a way nothing has in years. And that scares the shit out of me.
My phone buzzes on the counter.
Harper:
Where are you?
Mom’s worried.
Shit. I really need to find a place of my own. At thirty-six, I don’t need my mom checking up on me. Thumbing out a quick reply, I type:
Me:
At Callie’s.
Tell Mom I’m fine.
Be home later.
The dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Then:
OMG!
Details!
I huff out a laugh and turn the damn thing upside down on the counter.
When the coffee’s ready, I pour two mugs, adding cream to hers the way I remember, then hunt through a cabinet until I find a tray. I arrange the mugs and add a few pieces of fruit from the bowl on the counter. It’s a small thing, but for some reason, I want it to be nice. Maybe because this feels like more than a night I’ll forget. And that realization? That’s what really terrifies me.
Callie's sitting cross-legged on the bed, when I return, wearing an oversized light pink t-shirt that falls off one shoulder. Beneath it, I can see the curve of her breasts and the darkness of her nipples poking through the fabric. She smiles when she sees the tray. I smile because… well…
“You didn't have to do all this.” Her pleased expression tells me she appreciates the gesture, nonetheless.
“Like I said, I wanted to.” I set the tray on the bed and sit beside her, handing her a mug, trying not to stare at her tits like a horny teenager. “Though I should warn you, my phone just blew up with texts from Harper.”
Callie nearly chokes on her first sip of coffee. “What? Why?”
“I told her I was here so she wouldn't worry. Now she wants details.”
A range of emotions crosses Callie's face: embarrassment, uncertainty, and something that might be hope. “What are you going to tell her?”
Good question. “The truth, I think. We had dinner. That things are,” I tip my head, searching for the right words, “evolving between us.”
“Evolving,” she repeats, testing the word. “That's one way to put it.”
“Would you prefer a different term?”
She looks down at her coffee, her fingers tracing the rim of the mug. “I don't know what to call this, Luke. Last night was incredible.” She grimaces. “But it complicates things.”
“It doesn't have to.” I know that's not entirely true. “We're both adults. We know what we want.”
