“It’s okay.” I dip down to kiss his still sleep-soft lips.
“What do you want to do the rest of the day?”
I glance outside at the storm. “Do you think the fireworks are canceled?”
“Definitely.”
I can’t help but sigh, I was excited to see the fireworks over the ocean. “I’ve never seen fireworks at the beach.”
Colby softly grips my neck with a reassuring smile. “I’ll find some on television for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything.”
I blink over at him. “Are you happy?”
Colby tilts his head in confusion. “Right now? Yes.”
“Before this, before me, were you happy?”
A few beats go by as Colby ponders my question. His cerulean eyes bore into me, trying to figure out why I’m asking such a pointed question. We’ve carefully sidestepped a lot of things the past few days. Getting to know one another without really getting to know one another. The fake boyfriend curse of knowing one another deeply while staying unknown.
“Most of the time. It’s been a tough few years.”
“Why?”
Colby takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly. “My husband died.”
“I’m sorry.” I mean it too. I am sorry. Even though his husband not dying means I wouldn’t have had this snapshot in time with Colby. It seems unfair to everyone all around.
“We knew it was coming,” Colby explains with a distant look. His fingers tighten in my shirt for just a moment, enough to tell me the topic is still painful for him. “I had time to say goodbye. I still grieve for him, I miss him all the time, but it hurts much less now.”
“You could have anyone. You’re smart, successful, beautiful.” I dip to kiss Colby’s cheeks when he flushes at the praise. God, I love that paint of crimson across his cheeks. “Why’d you have to hire me?”
“I didn’t want entanglements … I need to get back out there, know I could do it, but not have any expectations afterwards.”
That confirms pretty much all of my thoughts. Even if I was brave enough to ask for more, I won’t. Colby is still grieving and this is practice for him. Practice to get back out there and meet someone worthy of him. Someone smart, someone older, more refined. Someone that can be his equal on his arm. Yeah, I’m going to have my PhD soon, but I’ll just be doing research in a dusty basement at a university somewhere once I’ve got it.
“Let’s bake something,” I tell Colby with a winning grin.
I skip into the kitchen, rattling through his pantry for anything of use. Luckily, there’s an old but still usable box of brownie mix. Colby grabs a large mixing bowl and a baking pan. My sweet, chivalrous helper. He cracks the eggs, I measure the oil and water, then I let Colby stir the mix. We make a pretty good team.
“Want some?” Colby asks, offering me the spatula.
I take a lick, as lewdly as I can, and grin when his hand holding the spatula twitches. Hopping up onto the island, Iwatch as Colby places the pan into the oven. He sets a timer, then returns to stand between my legs. The warmth of him seeps into me, settling in my bones.
“Hi,” Colby says, hands reaching under my shirt to caress my skin.
I shiver helplessly. “Hello,” I whisper between us.
“Wanna make out?”
I mock gasp. “Colby Smith! You want to make out with your husband as we bake brownies? Sir, that is delightfully domestic. Yes, kiss me.”
Colby laughs, a deep, rumbly thing, before roughly claiming my lips with his own. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, sweetly playing with the golden-blond hair at the nape of his neck. I open my eyes just a little to find his eyes firmly shut, obviously enjoying the kiss. There are some flecks of gray in his hair now that I look closely. I like it. Everything about Colby Smith is bewitching. At least to me.
I get so caught up in the kiss that I forget about the brownies. The timer jolts us apart. We both laugh at the sight of each other, kiss-messy and lips swollen. Colby places a chaste kiss on my lips and I helplessly chase him when he pulls away. He bends over, giving me a delightful view of his ass as he takes the brownies out of the oven.
