The slow burn they’d started in the car lit to a full flame. He tilted his head, the kiss turning to tongue and hands and their bodies molding together.
“Hey, Tucker,” his sister’s voice murdered the moment.
Kenzie pulled away, covering her mouth with the edge of her thumb.
“Oh my gosh.” Sierra stepped backwards down the hallway she’d come from. “I had no idea. I’m sorry. I just brought…dinner.”
She lifted the casserole dish as if it held the explanation for everything in life.
10
Chapter Ten
“What’re you two doing?” Tucker asked.
Kenzie and Sierra were in his kitchen, scrolling through something on Sierra’s phone.
“Figuring out what I’m bringing to Christmas breakfast tomorrow.” Kenzie pointed to something on the screen. “Do we have any jam?”
“I don’t know. Mom makes some blackberry preserves in the summer. She probably left some here. This one could work.” Sierra rummaged through a cupboard next to the stove. “Yes! I knew Mom wouldn’t let us down.”
Kenzie gave her a high five.
They’d all eaten dinner together. He couldn’t exactly kick his sister out when she’d provided the meal. He’d gone to check the barn and had only been gone fifteen minutes. Apparently, his sister and Kenzie had become good friends in that time. Which was nice. Except it was time for Sierra to leave. He needed to have Kenzie all to himself again.
“Check this out, Tucker.” Kenzie motioned for him to join their huddle. “It’s an app thing. You put in the ingredients you have and it tells you what you can make. Then it gives you the recipe.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t need a recipe for a jar of mayo.”
“We’re making a blackberry French toast bake.” Kenzie transferred the recipe to her notepad
She glanced up, beamed at him, and his heart spasmed against his ribcage.
Fuck it all. He was going to make blackberry French toast. And he was probably going to enjoy it.
“Do you want me to stay and help?” Sierra asked, all sincere like she wasn’t barging into their evening.
“I think we got it.” Tucker assured her, using any telepathic abilities he might possess to encourage her to skedaddle.
Sierra glanced between him and Kenzie. “Well, then it’s time for me to leave. Kenzie, Merry Christmas.”
“Goodnight.” Kenzie gave his sister a hug.
Kenzie fitting in with his family should have concerned him. It should have made him want to pack her up and ship her back to California. It should have made him break out in hives.
It did none of that.
Sierra patted his arm on the way by. “See you in the morning, Tucker. Don’t mess up the French toast.”
“Okay.” He rubbed his hands together. “What do we do?”
Kenzie directed the show. He cut the bread into chunks. She melted the preserves over the stove. He found a brick of cream cheese and cut it into slices. She mixed together eggs and milk and God knew what else.
He slid the pan onto a shelf in the refrigerator to set overnight.
Wiping his hands on a kitchen towel, he watched Kenzie as she scribbled more words in her notebook. Given the way her eyebrows bunched together and her lips puckered, she wasn’t transcribing a recipe. He knew that look. The look of an artist with a story to tell.
A niggle of jealousy scratched because the words came to her and not to him. Even so, she felt right, here in his home. Usually having people in his space set his teeth on edge. But Kenzie? No, she fit.
