He smiles. I smile. We hold each other’s gaze for an unreasonable amount of time.
Jonas breaks the tension by stepping directly between us and plopping onto the couch, Coca-Cola in hand. The PlayStation comes to life, booming through the television speaker, and Jonas hands Colt his extra controller. “You’re so frickin’ awful at driving in real life, I don’t have hope for you here.”
“Jonas!” I gawk at him. “That was ru—”
“Big talk from a kid who’s barely out of a booster seat. Don’t worry, Mama. I’ll make him pay for that.” Colt leans forward in his seat, eyes focused on the television, and rips open a packet of M&Ms with his teeth. A muscle in his forearm pops as he pours a pile into his palm, gives them a quick shake, then tosses the candy into his mouth.
The duo soup up their cars, heckling each other every step of the way. And by the time they’ve started their first race, I’m spun sideways on the couch with a fuzzy blanket tucked around my bare legs, eating sour keys.
I steal covert glances at the man sitting opposite me. Everything about him seems so…effortless.
From the way his hair falls—sexy yet messy—to the way he’s getting Jonas laughing harder than I’ve seen in ages. Knowing they’re both preoccupied, overcome with serious competitive energy, I allow my gaze to travel his body. And when I reach his wide, callused hands—his thumb moving fervidly over the tiny joystick—I even allow the pang of desire to settle in my core for a moment.
It’s a yearning I don’t want to feel. Ican’tfeel. Yet there it is. All fiery and hungry and wanton.
So I slip off the couch and head to the kitchen, where I take my time with a glass of ice water, staring into the suds floating around the sink. Desperate to get my mind off the way his thumb might feel circling around my joystick.
I’ve abstained from wine tonight because I assumed that was behind my full body flush and inappropriate longing the last time he was here.
Maybe this time I’m ovulating….
My fingertips slide under the hem of my shirt and dig into my skin, like I’m an ovulation witch. I don’t know what I expect to determine by prodding my squishy lower stomach. Normally, I hate when ovulation pains stab through me because they’re an agonizing reminder of everything I can’t have. I understand the science supporting leaving ovariesbehind during a hysterectomy—I only wish I didn’t have to be reminded of their presence so regularly. Although, for tonight, it would be handy to have an excuse for why I’m eye-fucking a man I wouldn’t normally have any desire to take a second glance at.
In a flurry of chaos, Jonas beats Colt in their race and a hilarious victory dance erupts, leading to Colt smacking him repeatedly with a throw pillow. I’m basking in the unadulterated joy, laughing and rooting for both sides in this play fight. Jonas shakes his skinny butt at Colt. Colt’s pillow makes contact with Jonas’s head.
The doorbell rings, and we all fall silent.
“Got it,” Colt and I say simultaneously.
He bought pizza last time. And brought so much candy tonight, he probably needed to get a pay advance from the ranch to afford the massive price markup at the corner store. Plus, I owe him for helping with Jonas. Even though he placed the order, there’s no way he’s paying.
I race to the door, nearly tripping over a pair of sneakers left haphazardly in the middle of the floor. I’m the first to the front door, but Colt’s arm shoots out to stop me. His warm hand lies on top of mine, and we turn the black door handle. My breath catches at the click of the door mechanism.
He’s close. Real close. His breath, warm and slightly smelling of chocolate, moves across the nape of my neck.
“Let me get the pizza.” The wordpizzaagainst my skin has my thighs instinctively clenching. Confirmed: I’m ovulating. Also hungry.
Without argument, I stagger out of the way and attempt to regain composure by busying myself in the kitchen, grabbing plates and napkins and ranch dip. When he flings two large pizza boxes onto the counter, I want to tell him how unnecessary all of this is. I should be hosting an entire pizza party for him after everything he’s done in the month we’ve known him.
Before I can insist on plates or sitting down, both boys are inhaling slices while standing at the island. Jonas is eyeballing their paused game as if it’ll up and disappear the second he looks away.
Fuck it.
I reach for a slice and let my hip rest against the counter’s edge. “Let me pay you back for the pizza. You bought it last time.”
“Nah,” he says around a bite. “I invited myself over. Least I can do is supply dinner.”
“Well…thank you.”For everything.
An embarrassing moan echoes in my throat when I take the first bite, cheese and meat and sauce overloading my taste buds. It has Colt raising an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” I say, swallowing the hot morsel in my mouth. “I haven’t eaten all day, and this isgood.”
“I always have them add parmesan. It costs an extra dollar, and I’m pretty sure it comes from that parmesan shaker you buy at the grocery store, but it feels fancy.” He bites down, creating the most glorious cheese pull I’ve ever seen. “Extra cheese, too.”
“You really pulled out all the stops tonight.”
“What can I say? I came to impress. Nothin’ but the best candy and fancy pizza for you two.”
