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Landon enters the living room, shirtless, with Sophia trailing behind him. She’s dressed in her work clothes from last night; the black uniform accompanied with a bright smile suits her well.
“Hey.” Landon’s cheeks flush, and Sophia reaches for his hand and smiles at me. I think I catch a wink from her, but I’m still a little cloudy from waking up with Hardin.
She leans up and presses a soft kiss to Landon’s cheek. “I’ll call you after my shift.”
The thick patches of hair on Landon’s face are something I’m still getting used to, but the look is good on him. He smiles down at Sophia and opens the front door for her.
“Well, now we know why Landon didn’t come out of his room last night,” Hardin whispers into my ear, his breath hot against me.
Oversensitive and wound up, I try again to remove my body from his. “I need coffee,” I argue.
Those must be the magic words, because he nods and allows me to climb off his lap. The loss of contact has an immediate effect on my body, but I force myself to make it to the coffeemaker.
I ignore the way Landon shakes his head while smiling, and I walk into the kitchen. The skillet from last night, full of uneaten vodka sauce, is still on the stove, and when I pull open the oven, I find the pan of chicken breasts still inside.
I don’t remember turning the oven or stove off, but then again, I wasn’t thinking much last night. My brain didn’t seem to want to think past Hardin and the way his lips felt against mine after months of deprivation. My skin flames from the reminder of it, the gentle way he touched me, worshipping my body.
“Good thing I turned the heat off, right?” Hardin enters the kitchen, sweats hung low on his hips. His new tattoos accent the plane of his torso, drawing my eyes to the bottom of his sculpted abdomen.
“Uhm, yeah.” I clear my throat and try to decide why I’m suddenly so hormonal. I feel the way I did when I first met him, and that worries me. It’s always so easy to fall back into the dysfunctional pattern that is Hessa, but I have to keep my head clear here.
“What time do you work today?” Hardin leans against the counter opposite me and watches as I begin to work on cleaning up the mess.
“Noon.” I pour the uneaten sauce into the sink. “Only one shift. I should be home around five.”
“I’m taking you to dinner.” He smiles, crossing his arms in front of his chest. I tilt my head, raising a brow at him, and turn on the garbage disposal. “You’re thinking about shoving my hand into that right now, aren’t you?” He points to the noisy disposal. His laughter is soft and charming and makes me light-headed.
“Maybe.” I smile. “So you need to rephrase that into the form of a question.”
“There’s the sassy Theresa I know and love,” he teases, sliding his palms across the countertop.
“Theresa, again?” I attempt to scowl at him, but a smile breaks through.
“Yes, again.” He nods and does something un-Hardin-like. He grabs the small trash can from under the sink and starts to help me clean up the trash from the counter. “So will you please do me the honor of granting me your time to have a meal in a common place tonight?”
His playful sarcasm has me laughing, and when Landon enters the kitchen, he only glances at us and leans against the counter.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Landon stares at the cleaning man in Hardin’s body and glances back at me, baffled. “Yeah, just tired.” He rubs his fists over his eyes.
“I would imagine.” Hardin wiggles his eyebrows, and Landon shoves his shoulder.
I stare, feeling like I’m in some alternate universe. One where Landon shoves Hardin’s shoulders and Hardin laughs, calling him an asshole, instead of glaring at or threatening him.
I like this universe here. I think I would love to stay awhile.
“It’s not like that. Shut it.” Landon adds ground coffee to the pot and pulls three cups from the cabinet and sets them on the counter.
“Sure, sure.” Hardin rolls his eyes.
Landon mockingly says, “Shore, shore.”
I listen to the two of them banter and take innocent digs at each other while I reach for a box of cereal in the highest cabinet. I’m standing on my toes when I feel Hardin’s fingers tugging at my shorts, pulling them up to cover more of my exposed skin.
Part of me wants to pull them up farther or even take them off completely, just to see the expression that would come from it, but for Landon’s sake, I decide against it.
Instead, I find the humor in Hardin’s gesture and roll my eyes at him while unrolling the bag of cereal inside the box.
“Frosted Flakes?” Hardin asks.
“In the cabinet,” Landon responds.
A clouded memory of Hardin bickering with my father over his eating all of Hardin’s cereal comes forward. I smile at the memory and file it away. I no longer think of my father with pain in my chest; I have learned to smile at the humor he held and to admire the positivity he showed in the short time I got to know him.
I dismiss myself to the bathroom to take a shower for work. Landon is telling Hardin about his newest favorite hockey player’s getting signed by an opposing team, and Hardin surprises me by staying at the kitchen table with Landon instead of following me.
AN HOUR LATER, I’m dressed and ready to begin my walk to the restaurant. Hardin is sitting on the couch pulling his boots on when I enter the living room.
He looks up at me with a smile. “Ready?”
“For what?” I grab my apron from the back of the chair and push my phone into my pocket.
