Page 29 of Charmed, I'm Sure
8
Inconceivable
Taylor
Thehouseinquestionwas surprisingly cute—a newly renovated farmhouse adorned with squared-off columns and a wrap-around porch. The yards were well maintained, and the back even boasted a new fence, making it possible for me to finally get a dog—or three—just as I had always wanted. But all the features I had been looking for in a house faded into the background the moment Magnolia and I stepped into the kitchen.
Her eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning; her hand flew to cover her mouth as wide blue eyes scanned the space, delicate fingers trailing along the countertops.
“Taylor,” she exhaled, spinning to face me. “Do you see this kitchen?”
“Oh, I see it.”
“Oh my god, if I could marry a kitchen, it would be this one,” she sighed appreciatively.
“So, I take it you like it, then?” I chuckled, stuffing my hands into my pockets while I watched her flit from one side of the room to the other.
I had to hand it to her; it was a stunning kitchen. Rich cobalt blue cabinets with brushed gold accents, a white subway tile backsplash, butcher-block countertops, and a large island at the center,topped with a light gray and white marbled stone. Coordinating open shelving flanked the apron sink. The updated stainless steel appliances gleamed, and the gas stove was enormous. But what truly set the space apart were the windows spanning the back of the house, looking out over the yard and flooding the room with natural light.
“Like it?” she exclaimed. “Taylor, this kitchen is adream!”
She was right; it would have been a dream. Yet all I could focus on was the light in her eyes as she pointed out every little detail—her excitement practically alive.
After inspecting every inch, she finally settled at the island. Running her hands along the marbled surface, her gaze drifted out the windows as she began to rattle off all the things she would love to create in a kitchen like this one. I couldeasilyenvision her here, standing with a cup of coffee in hand, something delicious baking in the oven, and a streak of flour smudged on her cheek. She justfit—cotton candy hair, ripped jeans, and all.
“Rolling out dough or tempering chocolate would be a breeze on this counter,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
I’m not sure what possessed me, but one moment I was standing by the staged dining table, and the next I was behind Magnolia, my hands braced on the counter, flanking her hips.
“You look good in this kitchen, cher,” I whispered, savoring her tiny, sharp intake of breath. She had evidently been lost in her imagination more than I’d realized.
As she rotated within my arms until her backside pressed against the counter, her wide eyes met mine, and she asked in a hushed whisper, “What are you doing?”
Damn, that was a good question—one I didn’t have an answer to just yet. Other than pushing my luck, I was at a loss. I had no idea how she would react, whether she had blocked out the chemistry betweenus after she discovered my identity last weekend. But I figured now was as good a time as any to find out.
“You never answered my question from earlier,” I said, matching her tone and volume.
“What question?”
Her eyes resembled aquamarine pools with flecks of gold, flickering between mine. Stepping closer, I suppressed the cocky smile threatening to break free as her breath hitched. That tiny gasp was music to my ears as her breaths quickened.
“Is this a date, Magnolia?” I leaned down until there was barely an inch between our noses; her gaze dropped to my mouth for a fleeting moment before returning to my eyes. “Or is this just you doing me a favor?”
“Um.” Her swallow was audible as she leaned back, her sweater slipping further down her shoulder and revealing more of the black lace beneath and the intricate ink that adorned her arm. “Usually there’s food involved in… in a—” she cleared her throat, and I noticed her hands flexing against the edge of the counter, “date.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Famished.” A deep rosy hue colored her cheeks as she met my gaze, her bottom lip disappearing beneath her teeth.
I’d just pressed my hips into hers, my lips a breath away from achieving the one thing that had occupied my thoughts for the last four days when the click of heels on wood echoed into the space.
“Oh, Taylor, there you are! I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Closing my eyes briefly, I expelled a disgruntled breath. When I opened them, confusion swirled in Magnolia’s eyes. “We’re not finished yet, cher. Not by a long shot.” Straightening, I turned to smile at my realtor. “Cindy, how are you?”
“I’m fine, thanks. You didn’t like any of the listings I sent you?” she asked, her brows pulling together at the center.
“They were fine, just not what I was looking for.”
