Page 26 of Where It Begins

“I love that plan, but I also doubt its effectiveness.”

“I too, doubt the effectiveness, but I’m willing to give it my most valiant effort.” Sidney tips his head toward the counter and his fingertips settle against the dip in my spine.

I don’t know what the hell is going on with my body, but even that innocent contact is making me all hot and bothered. I order an almond milk latte and Sidney orders a mocha drink. We move to the dessert case and debate the options, narrow it down to two and we each get a slice to share. I offer to pay this time, and Sidney doesn’t fight me, which I appreciate.

Once we have our coffees and desserts, we settle in at the table.

“Can I ask what happened with the girls that you ended up here?” Sidney asks.

I glance around and lean in, lowering my voice. “I gave them the whole, get your O before they get theirs speech and that if a guy isn’t willing to take the time to get you there, and you can’t tell them what you need to make it happen, then you probably shouldn’t be doing what you’re doing, and he isn’t worth your time.”

“That sounds very similar to the talk I had with my son, and like brilliant advice. A lot of the girls that hang out at the arena are pretty starstruck by these boys with promising NHL aspirations. Doesn’t matter how much attention he gets, it’s on him to make sure he’s not the only one getting into the end zone and scoring goals.”

“Is it weird that I find your parenting skills sexy?” I ask.

He grins and shakes his head. “Gotta be honest, I was already hopelessly attracted to you, but when you told me you took those girls out for coffee, your appeal skyrocketed into another dimension.”

“Remember when we were in our twenties and having a decent job and your own place was good enough to entertain a second date?”

Sidney laughs. “It’s amazing how quickly our priorities change.”

“Mm. Yes. Definitely. And dating with a teenager is no easy feat.”

“It really isn’t.”

Violet messages to check on me, and I realize it’s closing in on ten. Our coffees are long finished, but neither of us touched our desserts, too busy talking. We get takeout boxes and cut our pieces in half so we can experience the best of both worlds and Sidney walks me to my car, which is parked next to his truck.

Sidney sets his dessert on the hood. “Miller has some away games the next couple of weekends and I’m traveling with his team, but maybe we could make another coffee date work during the week?”

“I would love that.” I adjust my purse strap and my grip on my own takeout box.

“And I’d love to take you out for dinner again, if you’re interested.”

“I’m definitely interested.”

“Great.” His mouth dips to mine and he moves closer. “I’d also love to kiss you goodnight.”

“I’m right there with you.”

His fingertips drift along the edge of my jaw and then slide into the hair at the nape of my neck. We angle our heads at the same time and our lips connect. I make a soft, needy sound and he groans as our tongues tangle.

I slide my hand up his chest and curve my palm around the back of his neck and find myself pressed against the side of my car. Like the first time we kissed, I’m still holding onto my takeout box, which means I’m limited to single-hand touching. As if he’s reading my mind, Sidney’s fingers slide down my arm and he takes the box. He must move it to the hood because a second later, his hand settles on my waist, and I have the freedom to touch him with both hands.

So, I do.

And we keep kissing, lips fused, tongues sweeping out to taste each other, lower halves pressed tight. I feel him hard against my stomach. His free hand travels up my side and his thumb rests just under the swell of my breast. I jut my chest out, but we’re standing in the middle of a parking lot, so there’s not much we can do apart from kiss and make small, desperate noises.

I run my hand down his back and give his ass a squeeze. It’s deliciously firm. He grunts and his hand covers my breast.

The thumping bass of a passing car reminds us we’re making out in public again.

I break the kiss long enough to ask, “Is your son home?”

Sidney checks his watch. “He’ll be home in less than half an hour. What about your daughter?”

“She is.” I glance at his truck. It’s one of those nice extended cabs, with a full backseat and tinted windows. The parking lot is quiet, it being a Wednesday at nine-thirty. His son has away games for the next two weekends, and both of our schedules are ridiculously busy. This might be our only chance to get frisky for a while and I’d love to get past first freaking base.

“Wanna make out in the backseat of your truck?” I blurt.

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