“It’s okay to be nervous,” she says.
I frown and take a sip of lemonade, and glance at the timer counting down for the pasta.
“I’m not nervous around you,” I tell her, slipping my arm around her hips.
She steps between my spread feet and leans into my chest.
“I’m talking about the sleepover.”
I puff out a breath and loop one of her curls around my finger.
“I know she’s okay. My entire family is there just in case.”
“That’s awesome,” she says.
I nod and stare at my finger and her hair.
“I don’t want to lose her,” I rasp. Rocks fill my throat and I feel like I’m drowning.
Mae slips her hands around the back of my neck, and I look down at her. “You’re not going to lose her, regardless of how things change, she will always be your princess.”
“What if Rebekah tries to move with her or something? What am I going to do? I didn’t go to college. I don’t have a resume. I’m a cowboy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, but …”
“Coop,” Mae says, gently grabbing my face between her small hands.
I stare down at her, and it hits me square in the chest.
I could handle any of this if I have both of them. My legs tighten. I’d do anything and everything. There would be no limits.
“Can I kiss you, please?” I rasp.
She makes a face and leans up. I stoop down and pick her up, turning around to sit her on the counter.
The longer we’ve been together, the more confident she’s become when we kiss, when we whisper things to each other. I’m not going to claim to be the reason, but I certainly would like to think that I am part of it.
Mae locks her ankles at my spine and pulls me closer. I clasp the back of her neck, tilting her head back. She bites my lower lip and slips her tongue past mine. The kiss isn’t hesitant. It’s fierce, as if she’s finally letting me see it all.
I moan as our tongues brush each other’s and she whimpers into my mouth. Her hands sneak under my shirt and nails scrape over my stomach, making it clench.
My hand slides up into her hair and tugs it back. She gasps, and I trail my mouth over her jaw down to her neck, sucking on her pulse. Her body shivers in my hold, and she sighs into me. I lean her back to trace her collarbone with my lips and down to her breasts. She arches her back, and I smile into her skin.
“You like that, don’t you?” I ask her, already seeing the answer in her heaving chest.
“Yes,” she sighs, eyes closed and heart beating a million miles a minute.
The timer goes off, and we both jump.
Mae lies all the way onto the counter and groans.
“Damn timer,” she mutters under her breath.
I chuckle and go to the stove, flipping off the burner and pouring the pasta into the colander to drain it in the sink.
When I turn to put the pot back on the stove, she’s hopped down from the counter and checks the bolognese.
“Oh no! The bread!” she yells, grabbing oven mitts and opening the oven. She pulls out a tray with not quite burnt but getting close, garlic bread, and tosses it onto the open space on the stove.
She groans and I poke at it. “Looks fine to me,” I tell her.
