“I’ll be the judge of that,” she says playfully, one brow arching in challenge. “A little warning—I’m a bit of a coffee snob.”
“I’m always up for a new challenge.” I wink, catching the faint blush creeping across her cheeks.
She bites her bottom lip, as if holding back a snarky remark, and my gaze immediately focuses on her mouth. Her lips are the perfect plump shape. Soft and cushiony, like two tiny pillows.Stop staring at her mouth, you bloody creep!
“Alright,” she murmurs, snapping my gaze back to hers. “Let’s give these plants a new home, shall we?”
I nod in agreement and stand. “After you, Miss McKenna.”
Hope rises to her feet, and for the next fifteen minutes, we move from room to room, finding the perfect spot to place each plant. She explains in great detail why they belong in a specific area of the room and how best to maintain them so that they’re able to flourish.
Even as she walks me through the care and upkeep of the plants, I can’t help but admire the knowledge and passion in the way she speaks. It’s the same intensity I feel when I talk about building things—the kind that comes from loving something so deeply. I’ve never met anyone who understands that feeling in quite the same way.
Once we’re finished, I guide her back to her bag on the kitchen island. She takes out her phone and checks it, her expression shifting almost imperceptibly. I don’t need to ask who it’s from. From the way her brows knit together in irritation, and how her thumbs tap sharply across the screen, I can tell its Adrian.
“Everything okay?” I ask, cautiously.
She glances back at me, switches her phone off, and dumps it back into her bag. “Oh, it’s just my ex creating more unnecessary drama, as usual.”
“How are things between you and him, by the way, if you don’t mind me asking?”
She exhales a long, heavy breath. “Honestly, not great. It’s like I’m dealing with a toddler sometimes when he doesn’t get his way. Now that we’re divorced, he’s turned into an even bigger arsehole.”
“How so?”
“Every conversation with him becomes a battle or a competition, especially when it comes to Zac. At this point, I don’t even think he cares that he’s hurting me anymore.”
“I’m sorry you’re having to go through this,” I say gently. “If anything, it just reinforces that leaving him was the right decision. Let him feel the pain of losing the best thing in his life.”
As the words leave my mouth, a sharp ache slices through my chest. An unwelcome memory of Skylar saying those exact same words to me after I betrayed her and she chose to move on without me.
“Yeah...I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
Her phone pings, and she releases another exasperated sigh. “I should get going. I hope I’ve given you enough tips to keep your plants alive. If not, you can just text me. I’ll be happy to assist you.”
“I’ll definitely take you up on that. Thank you, Hope. You’ve been a massive help.”
I walk her to the door, the space between us suddenly feeling too small, too charged. For a long minute, neither of us moves for the handle. We just stand there, as if suspendedin time, exchanging lingering glances and shy, half-smiles, until I finally unlock the door and step back.
“Drive safe, Hope. And again, thanks for all your help.”
“My pleasure, Kaden. Please take good care of them.”
“I will. I promise.”
This time her smile widens. “Bye,” she murmurs, soft and sweet.
“Bye,” I reply just as quietly.
She steps into the hallway, and I watch her leave until the elevator doors slide shut, cutting her from view. The silence that follows feels heavier than it should, as if today ended too soon, leaving a trail of things unsaid. My emotions churn, messy and confusing.
It’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun. For over a year and a half, I’ve done everything except focus on women. I haven’t dated, and I haven’t been intimate with anyone, which is unusual for someone like me. And while I’ve been busy working on myself and my projects, I just never felt the urge to meet someone new—until now.
I slip quietly into my home office and reach for my tool belt on my desk. As my eyes settle on the oak rocking chair I just built for Mila to go into Isla’s nursery, a strong sense of determination washes over me.
Something about today, and the sharp, insightful redhead who just left, ignites a drive in me I haven’t felt in a long time. The drive to improve—not just my craft, but at everything else I’ve been lacking in life.
Chapter 22
