I bump her with my hip. “Yet, you still love him.”
She smiles. “Yes, I do, but I love you too, and I know this is something you’ve wanted for a long time.”
Now it’s my turn to huff and roll my eyes.
“Deny it all you want, Ava, you can’t—”
“Fight fate,” I interrupt.
“Exactly! Now spill the beans. This knocked-up, soon-to-be married marshmallow needs to live vicariously through you.”
Grinning, I exhale a deep breath before my panic eyes nervously glide around the room. Happy no one is watching, I mumble, “We kissed.”
My hand shoots out to cover Jorgie’s mouth when her massive squeal gains us the attention of every Marshall in the kitchen and every dog within a five mile radius. Her eyes turn huge and unapologetic as she stares at me with nothing but glee. Her excitement intensifies when the screen door at the side of the kitchen squeaks open and the intoxicating physique of Hugo enters the room.
My heart beats double-time as my eyes roam over the man who kept me awake until the wee hours every night this week reminiscing about our kiss. I’ve scrutinized every detail of our night; every word he spoke, every look that crossed his face, and every time he touched me was studied in great depth. But even after an investigation Sherlock Holmes would have been proud of, I still went to bed just as confused as I was hours earlier.
Noticing the eerie quietness that has encroached the kitchen, my hands lower from Jorgie’s mouth, and my eyes sweep the room. Helen and Chase are staring at Hugo like a stranger has entered their house uninvited. Mr. Marshall’s eyes are twinkling with happiness, and Mrs. Marshall’s hand is covering her mouth as her eyes well with tears. Their joy for the return of their beloved son is etched on both of their faces.
As a tear escapes Mrs. Marshall’s eye, she rushes to her youngest son and throws her arms around his broad shoulders. Warmth blooms my chest when Hugo’s deep voice soothing his mother breaks through the barrier of silence plaguing the small gathering.
After being greeted by Helen, Chase, and Mr. Marshall, Mrs. Marshall guides Hugo through the kitchen to the makeshift dining room on the outside deck. When Hugo ambles by Jorgie and me, his large hand darts out to rub Jorgie’s rounded belly, and I’m greeted with a cheeky wink and a smile.
Once it is just Jorgie and me left in the kitchen, her glistening cornflower blue eyes turn to mine. “That must have been one hell of a kiss, Ava” she says. “Because you just got him to do something I’ve been begging him to do for years.”
My nose tingles as fresh tears form in my eyes.
Jorgie places her ruined coffee on the counter and wraps her arms around my neck. “Imagine all the things you could get him to do when you dive beneath the sheets?”
My pupils widen as my throat becomes hoarse. Just the thought of having nothing but sheets between Hugo and me has my pulse quickening and my lady garden throbbing. Spotting my flushed expression, Jorgie giggles before pacing out of the kitchen.
After pouring the final batch of pancakes onto the skillet, I let my mind wander. Images of Hugo and me dancing last week flash before my eyes. My visual isn’t entirely accurate. It’s a little more X-rated, since clothing is an optional requirement. My sweat-producing imagination only returns to the present when the smell of smoke filters through the air, closely followed by the sound of the smoke alarm.
Oh, shit! The pancakes!
A whimper erupts from my mouth when the scorching heat of the skillet burns my hand when I stupidly push it off the flame without using any protection. Peering down, my face cringes when I notice the first signs of a blister forming on the edge of my palm. The sting of the burn becomes non-existent when the back of my body is engulfed by another.
My breathing turns erratic as Hugo’s woodsy smell invades my senses. He leans over my shoulder and uses an oven mitt to lift the skillet off the open-flamed cooktop. The thick, black smoke lingering in the room fades when he dumps the skillet into the sink and turns the tap on full pelt, dousing the now charcoal black pancakes with water.
The heat in the room fires up when portions of his formidable V muscle peek out beneath his shirt as he fans the smoke alarm with a tea towel. Once the smoke alarm stops announcing my failure to the world, Hugo’s amused gaze turns to me.
“I thought my kitchen fire days were over once Helen realized she couldn’t boil water.”
The deep rasp of his voice makes the blemish on my cheeks turn from embarrassed to excited. His eyes drop to my wounded hand cradled by my uninjured hand as he moves to stand in front of me.
“Let me see,” he requests, his tone low and full of concern.
“It’s fine. It’s nothing,” I say, lowering my hands to the side of my body. My insides tense, but I give no outward appearance to the pain felt when the blister rubs against the hem of my skirt.
Hugo’s eyes bore into mine as he gently clasps my hand and raises it to inspect. The hairs on the nape of my neck prickle when he runs his finger over the small wound, being extra cautious not to touch the blister forming in the middle of the red welt.
Unable to control my breathing from his meekest touch, the heavy pants of my breath echo in the silence of the kitchen. Hearing my shameful response to his touch, Hugo’s eyes lift to mine. Even with his eyes sparked with the same trepidation they had when he begged me to ask him to leave, the intensity of his blue eyes spear me in place.
My brain turns to mush when he lifts my wounded hand to his mouth and blows on the scalded skin. The warmth of his breath makes the sting of the burn a forgotten memory. My breathing halts when his lips briefly brush the edge of my palm.
From the sparks of sexual energy surging through my veins, anyone would swear he was blowing on other regions of my body and not the edge of my palm. Shamefully, a breathless moan whooshes out of my parted lips, and the heat in the room turns roasting.
Cringing with embarrassment, my eyes snap shut when, “If she has a blister, you better go and get the iodine out of the bathroom cupboard,” comes sounding through my ears.
