I sit down and cut a piece of steak. We both take a bite. It’s done perfectly. Her eyes close as she says, “This steak is melt-in-your-mouth worthy.”
“I hit the nail on the head with this one.” I’m chewing another piece. It really is good. I’ll have to buy more.
Curious, I ask her, “So, why did you laugh at my address?”
With her eyes bright, she whispers, “444 angel numbers meanyou are on the right path, have a strong foundation, and your angels are providing support for a stable and lasting connection. Alignment…”
I reach for her hand. “I like that.” Not pulling it away, I gaze into her eyes.
We finish eating, and she offers to help clean up after dinner. Side by side in the kitchen, I don’t think there’s been a woman in my kitchen since it was renovated.
“This herringbone backsplash is exquisite.” She reaches over and glides her hand over the tile. “Did you do this yourself?”
“No, it would not look as good if I did it myself.” I shake my head. “My brother, Blake, installed it. He did a lot of the work in the kitchen. I’m good at some manual labor like the floor, hanging cabinets, but the detail-oriented tasks—not so much.”
She turns and says, “Oh, you talked about the Viking appliances fitting perfectly. They definitely complement the kitchen. I noticed the refrigerator earlier, but I must have been too hungry to concentrate on it. I need these in my kitchen. Oh, wait, I don’t have a kitchen.”
“Where do you stay when you are on the road?” I ask her as I watch her skim her fingers over the appliances. It’s entertaining and endearing to see her excitement. I was the same way when they arrived and was finally able to use them, but she’s in love with them.
“We usually grab a short-term rental.” She’s distracted by the kitchen amenities as she steps on the lever. “Seriously, what is this?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder, waiting for an answer.
I walk over to her and slide it further out so she can see what’s inside the container. “It’s a kitchen composter.” I’m proud of it. “I have anextra recycling cabinet which pulls out, too.” I reach over and show her.
“Trying to do my part for the environment when I can, it’s not easy.”
She hums softly and closes the container. It snaps shut. Her body stills and then turns slowly. Her head to the side, she says, “I don’t think I would have guessed you were the composter type.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Is it a good thing or a bad thing?”
Shrugging her shoulders, she walks closer to me. The intensity hits me with force. The tension is in the air, crackling between us. I’m fixated on her eyes, waiting for her to make her next move. When she’s around, I’m alive.
She takes one more step, enough for her to have to tilt her head back to reach my eyes. Clearing her throat, she says, “I’m pretty sure it’s a good thing.” Her hand moves to my chest first. She opens and closes her eyes. The brightest hazel staring back at me. Those fingertips run over the ripples of my chest to right above my swim shorts. Her fingers felt like electrical shocks as she dragged them down my body. There’s no hiding the bulge in my shorts. “You ready for the hot tub?”
My hands automatically move to her hips, gripping them tightly. She watches my every move and whispers, “I’ve been ready.”
EIGHT
Ava
With Kai, the armor slips off before I notice what’s happening. He doesn’t only unlock something in me; he resurrects me, bringing out who I used to be when it came to love. The one who trusted, who did what made me feel good, the one who would take risks. I haven’t seen this me in years, and I’m not sure what to think about her now.
Giggling all the way to the hot tub, I say over my shoulder, “I know where I’m going.”
My feet speed up to beat him to the hot tub. I’m not fast enough because he scoops me right up into his arms. We practically fall over, but he catches us. He places my feet back on the floor. Not before his erection pushes against my stomach, and the throbbing between my legs intensifies with every second we are wrapped up together.
When our eyes land on each other, the laughing subsides. Silence spreads through the air. My heart drops into my belly, and butterflies scatter.
I want him to kiss me. The thought settles in, and he reaches up, threading his fingers through my hair. I can’t help but lean into him. My eyes involuntarily close, soaking in the sensation of his touch buzzing through my entire body. Whenever he reaches back to my face, cupping it. My breath catches in my throat. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. How does he have this effect on me?
With soft eyes, he swipes his thumb over my cheek. Mesmerized by those crystal-blue eyes that are locked on me. His head nods slowly, like he’s not sure what to do next. I save him the trouble and place my hand on his wrist. The connection has my heart cracking open and sinking to my feet.
Coming here may be a mistake I can’t take back. Leaving is not an option, but I need to tread lightly.
“Ava, are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” he asks, searching my eyes for the answers, but I won’t let him in. I can’t, not now.
Somewhere along the way, I became such a pessimist when it comes to men. Between my mom and my own relationships early in life, love isn’t in the cards for me. I protect my heart at all costs, but tonight. He’s chiseling away at the walls I built. One chip at a time is falling to the deck.
No, no, I’m not okay.
