“Thanks, Dad.” Kennedy hops up and kisses me on the cheek. “You’re the best.”
“Six. Not six oh one.”
“Got it.” Kennedy follows Neve to the door, sticking tight to her heels. “See you later, Megan.”
“It was nice to meet you, Megan,” Neve calls out.
“Bye, girls.”
The door closes swiftly as if they’re afraid I’ll change my mind.
As soon as we’re alone, the air shifts. Shadows dance across the tabletop. Megan’s jasmine perfume scents the air, and my body temperature rises.
I struggle to remember our conversation yesterday. I remind myself that my child—the same one that occupied the seat nextto me a minute ago—is my priority. Over and over, I replay all the reasons I can’t afford to get off track.
Why I can’t touch Megan Kramer.
My muscles tighten in my stomach and across the back of my neck as I lift my gaze from the tabletop to her.
She grins. It’s simple, but when coupled with the heat in her eyes, nothing about it is sweet. “That was fun.”
I hold her gaze, unable to look away.
This is the first day, Chase. Twenty-nine more to go. Don’t blow it already.
I smirk and push away from the table.
I need to put some distance between us before things get really fun.
CHAPTER 13
Megan
“Coffee?”
Chase’s chair screeches against the floor as he pushes away from the table. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he heads to the coffee pot like a man on a mission.
His question throws me.Do I want coffee? It’s almost noon.
“I guess …” I shrug when he looks over his shoulder. “I mean, it’s lunchtime, but I won’t turn down coffee.”
“Yeah.” He exhales, leaning against the counter. “Hungry?”
I scoot my chair around so I can still see him.
He’s crossed his long legs in front of him. His waist digs into the edge of the cabinet. With his contented annoyance—a look that’s wildly amusing and hot beyond measure—he’s the picture of single dad perfection.
Thank God Calista can’t see this.
“I’m always hungry,” I say.
For once in the three days I’ve known Chase Marshall, I answer his question directly. No sarcasm. No prodding. No innuendo dripping from my words. But it doesn’t matter.
Chase’s gaze heats anyway, pinning me to my seat.
My heart pounds. The room spikes ten degrees. An array of goose bumps spill across my skin in anticipation of his touch … that never comes. That can’t come.That’s not why I’m here.
Yet I’m convinced that if I stood and walked across the kitchen, Chase would have a hard time turning away. My instincts say I could kiss him—that he wants me to.
