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Who the Heart Chooses

Page 91

by Harlow James

Her eyes catch on my chest before making a slow trip down my bare torso. At first, I didn’t want to make Lennon uncomfortable walking around without a shirt on, but the lingering look tells me she doesn’t mind in the slightest.

Lennon sniffs the air. “Are those grilled cheese sandwiches I smell?”

Flipping the burner off, I carry the pan to the plates on the counter and slide the sandwiches onto each one. “Sure are.”

Lennon rubs her stomach. “Thank God. I’m starving and that’s exactly what I wanted.”

I bite back a smile as I watch her move to the sink to wash her hands.

Glad to know I can at least do something right today.

My encounter with Donovan still isn’t sitting well with me, but I need to brush it off. He’d be a fool to make this a thing when the job is going smoothly again. Sure, we had a twenty-thousand-dollar setback a few weeks ago, but it barely ate into our profits because those things are budgeted for, thankfully.

Besides, no one else in the company has my depth of experience or could execute a project of this scale as well as I can.

I just hope that Donovan doesn’t make this a bigger deal than it needs to be.

Lennon reaches for her grilled cheese, taking a bite before closing her eyes and sighing. “God, it’s so good.”

Fuck.

The satisfied moan she makes every time she eats one of my grilled cheeses has yet to quell my dick’s reaction.

Apparently, he still gets excited every damn time.

And that’s when Tina’s warning comes roaring back, bringing with it the reminder of exactly how useful my dick could be.

“If she needs your services, you’d better be ready.”

I reach down and adjust myself, knowing my dick is more than ready for the opportunity. But the last thing I want to do is cross a line that Lennon is firmly planted on the other side of.

Sure, we’ve had some tension-filled moments, but nothing that tells me she wants anything more from me.

Then why can’t I stop thinking about what it would be like if she did change her mind?

Lennon looks toward the television, where the Lighting hockey game is already on. “How much have I missed?”

“Not a lot. It’s still the first period.”

She takes another bite of her sandwich and then sets it on the plate. “I need to change, and then I’m ready for my foot rub, Easton.”

“Is that so?”

She arches a brow at me from the end of the hallway. “You started this obsession, now you have no choice but to keep going until this baby is born.”

Lennon leaves the room, so I take both of our sandwiches and drinks over to the couch, sitting down in my usual spot before propping my own tired feet up on the coffee table.

When she returns wearing an oversized shirt and a raggedy pair of sweatpants, my cock nearly jumps at the sight of her.

This version—the comfortable Lennon walking around my house like it’s her own—this is the version of this woman that makes the organ in my chest ache.

She plops down onto the couch, reaching for her plate. “Care to explain to me what that monstrosity of a pillow is on our bed?”

“A pregnancy pillow that’s supposed to help you sleep.”

She nods once. “Of course it is.”

“Hey, the women in the moms’ group swore by it. If you don’t like it, we don’t have to keep it. But I have a feeling you’re gonna love it, especially since most of the women said giving theirs up felt like losing a best friend.”