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Me: Just how much is ‘a bit extra pasta?’
Brantley: Are you texting me from the driveway?
Me: …yes. Is this not normal?
I stared at my phone, waiting for the response. When I didn’t get one, I hopped out of the truck to go knock.
The front door opened as my feet hit the floor. He walked out and to my truck, eyebrow quirked in amusement.
I blushed, shutting the door and leaning against it. “Not normal, huh?”
His lips twitched, and he stood next to me, elbow on the wing mirror. “Definitely not normal. Why are you asking?”
“A ‘bit extra pasta’ is relative. You either did enough for one person or enough to feed another family. I didn’t consider that when I said no.”
“Enough to take it to the town hall in an hour and feed everyone at Bingo,” he admitted. “And, you didn’t say no. You said it was a bad idea.” His eyes met mine. “And I’m hard-pressed to disagree with you, which is why I don’t understand why you’re still here.”
“Let’s just say I’m very good at making bad decisions.”
Eyes.
Dropped to my mouth.
“You and me both,” he muttered.
I cleared my throat and glanced away briefly. “If you can give me half an hour to shower and change, I’d love to help you finish that pasta,” I said quietly.
“Half an hour. Really?”
“Forty-five minutes.”
“Shall I have it ready in an hour?”
I nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
He grinned, pulling back from the truck. “All right then.”
“I…Hold on. Did you…shower…after all hell broke loose?”
“No. I cleaned up, but I didn’t have a chance yet. Why?”
“You’ve got…” I stopped, biting the inside of my lower lip as I smiled, eyes following the giant, blue streak that colored his dark hair.
He blinked at me. “Got what? Why are you grinning at me like that?”
I stepped forward. “Paint.” Lifting my hand to his face, I ran my finger along the side of his head, from a spot just above his ear, through his hair, and down to the soft spot just beneath his air. “Right along there.”
His gaze shifted from the inside of my arm. Our eyes met, and I took a deep breath. I was still touching him, my fingers just barely ghosting down the side of his neck.
A short breath juddered out of me. Stutter-like and harsh, I forced myself to take another deep breath in or I knew I’d lose control.
Especially when he raised his hand to mine and curled his fingers around my wrist.
Hot little bursts of desire danced up my arm where his fingertips pressed against the tender skin there. It almost tickled as they trailed up the inside of my arm when it lowered.
“Good to know.” His voice was deep and low, almost rough. “I’ll go fix that now. You’ll be back in an hour?”
I nodded, pressing my hands flat against the hot door of my truck. “An hour,” I said scratchily. I swallowed, then cleared my throat again, pretending not to see how his eyes dropped when my throat bobbed. “Right. An hour. See you then.”
Brantley took a few steps back, lips twitching as he backed away. “See you, Kali.”
***
I dressed as casually as I could. Yoga pants, a loose shirt, and an old, zip-up sweatshirt. My hair was still-damp and in its natural state of loose curls, all pulled up into a ponytail on top of my head. I barely even wore make-up. A light layer of foundation and some mascara was all I’d put on.
I wanted to believe that the nugget of bullshit Jayda planted in my mind was real.
A part of me did. I couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely Brantley actually was. My whole life had been lived here in Rock Bay. He’d uprooted his entire life in favor of a new one—of one better than the one he’d been existing through before.
He wanted, maybe even needed, a friend. Sure.
But there was more there.
I’d felt it when he’d kissed me, and I’d felt it an hour ago when I’d made the mistake of touching his paint-covered hair.
I was an idiot, that much was true. I don’t know what had possessed me to do that. I could have just said and pointed, but no. I practically ran my fingers through his hair and down the side of his neck.
What was wrong with me? I’d spent the entire morning berating myself for kissing him, and I’d allowed my best friend to guilt me into having dinner with him.
I was an idiot, but here I was, ready to get free pasta.
The door swung open before I could knock. “Come in. Sorry. It’s burning.”
My eyebrows shot up, and I stifled a giggle as I closed the door behind me. Sure enough, as I joined him in the kitchen, I could smell the faint yet distinct scent of something burning.
“Fuck it, fuck it!” Brantley swept a huge pan over the sink and ditched the contents in a drainer. “Goddamn hob!”
