We just met. That doesn’t stop me from plucking her fingers off her lips, taking her hand in mine, and bringing it to my lips, pressing a kiss on her knuckles. “In case you are wondering if that kiss was an accident,” I say, “I meant to do that.”
She tilts her head closer and harshly whispers, “What is going on?”
“I don’t know.” I’m not indecisive in my tone. I’m stating a fact.
It’s the truth, and I confess the only thing I understand. “I have no idea what is going on, but as the hours ticked down, and I knew you’d be leaving, I just had to do it.”
She smirks, not sarcastically, but one I haven’t seen before. It’s gentle, yet direct. “You just wanted to kiss me,” she repeats, her face growing more serious like she’s studying math problems. As her brows pin together, she draws a breath, and her tone adds snark, “You just think you can kiss random women whenever you want?”
“No.” I haven’t lost my sanity. How do I explain that I was running out of time, and she wasn’t taking my subtle hints?
There was logic.
Some.
Okay, not logic.
More like something that’s the opposite of logic mixed with chemistry.
That’s what we have. “I ah, thought we had chemistry, but I didn’t know how to say it to get you to accept it.”
She has the audacity to roll her eyes, as if I’m not standing right in front of her, watching. “That’s a line,” she mutters, taking a step closer to the carousel.
I snort laugh and then laugh again. “You think I’m smart enough to have lines?”
She gives me a pointed look, but I don’t let her speak. “Tell me that you didn’t think that kiss was the best kiss you ever had,and I’ll grab Rigsby, and we’ll go on our way.” I shove my hands in my coat pockets, waiting for her to spit back her rebuttal. Her perfect bottom lip moves, but no sound comes out. It’s as if she is dumbfounded.
“Well?” I entice her to speak.
Again, with the eyeroll. Then she says, “I’m not telling you anything unless you feed me.”
“Feed you?” I blink and then blink again. That sounds like she’s asking me to ask her out without asking me. “Ah, you want to get something to eat?”
“It’s dinner time.” She nods toward the kids, who are getting off the carousal and heading this way.
“Ah, what do you like?” I gesture as I’m willing to give her anything. At this point if she asked for my wallet, I’d just hand it over without hesitation.
“I’d like to talk about this,”—she gestures between us—" but the kids are going to be hungry.” Her gaze shifts past me to the kids, and she speaks as if she’s thinking out loud, “How about . . . pizza at my place?”
“Your place?” I deadpan.
“That’s what I said.” Her light blue eyes move over me as if she’s assessing. “It’s been a grueling day, and I just want to go home and eat. It’s too cold to stand out here and argue about this.”
Wow. How brazen.
Maybe that’s the theme of the day. We banded together to get through our day and made it this far. Why stop now?
My stomach rumbles. I’m not sure if it’s hunger from the mention of pizza, nervous at the thought of talking, or maybe excitement at the possibility of more kissing. Apparently, my stomach gurgle is loud enough that it caught Kaci’s attention, and she’s staring at my midsection. I’m so insanely thankful I dofive hundred sit-ups a day. I leak out a nervous laugh. “I guess my stomach agreed for me.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” She flashes me another new smile. I love this one even more than the last—it’s higher on one side, and a tad wobbly. It’s smile perfection.
After the day I’ve had, I’m not one bit surprised I still have Rigsby. I texted Jackie and offered to keep him overnight again. She didn’t hesitate to take me up on my offer since she still hasn’t delivered the baby. She mentioned they might be having an emergency c-section if it goes much longer, and I told her not to worry. I’ll handle Rigsby.
Kaci leads the way inside her apartment building, calling over her shoulder, “I hope it’s okay. I already ordered pizza.” She flashes her phone at me with a growing-hangry smile on her face. “I have the app.”
“That’s fine.” We stop at the door, and she selects one key from her jumbo-sized key ring, sliding it into the lock until it clicks.
“Never mind the mess. I haven’t been home all day, or really much at all lately.” She strolls ahead of us into the apartment and shuffles a few stacked Amazon boxes to the side, clearing a path for us to walk. Then she stops at a hook on the wall and hangs up her coat.
