“Figured you’d want the little menace alive,” he says, his lips quirked in a half-smile. “She’d make you happy.”
Our gazes hold, and for a moment, I’m transported to our teenage years when we talked about dreams of the future.
Something very different from the present.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I motion to the chaos. “So what is this? The live version of ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’? A little too late, don’t you think? It’s January.”
“A girl once said she wanted to see why anyone would give their true love all that stuff for Christmas.” He chuckles.
My breath snags. I’d almost forgotten my offhand teenage rant.
But he hasn’t.
“So you’re saying you’re my true love then?” Butterflies flap in my stomach.
“You tell me.”
Those brilliant green eyes smolder, then he looks away, pours the batter into a pan, and slides it into the oven with his hip.
A man who cooks with confidence is so sexy.
“Christmas is your favorite holiday,” he adds. “I missed too many of them with you. Figured I’d redo our first one together as adults to make it more memorable.”
The ridiculous decorations blur for a second as my eyes sting.
He’s been carrying a torch for me all these years.
When he turns back, he accidentally knocks his spatula to the ground. It slides under the counter.
“Let me get it.” I get on my knees and reach for it.
“Damn. I need to drop more stuff on the ground.” He whistles low, and my skin heats.
To drive the man nuts, I arch my back like a cat, presenting him my ass. A growl churns out of him.
I snag the spatula and hold it out to him, still on my knees.
For a moment, I think he’ll crouch or kneel to take it.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, his jaw tightens. His throat works, his gaze flicking from my hand to the floor, and pain crosses those emerald eyes.
Something snags in my mind.
For all the things he’s revealed—the scars, the fire, the losses—there’s one thing he’s never told me.
And one thing he never does.
Chapter 43: H?NEST TRUTHS
“Why don’t you kneel?”I ask when I get back up.
Twenty years ago, when I met Kian, he was kneeling in the rain. And now, from the FBI clip I saw, Elias Kent would rather die than kneel.
He’s a conundrum, and I want to know everything about him.
The smile slips off his face. His jaw tightens, and he glances away.
