“Get dressed and join us downstairs. Syndi makes the best pancakes.”
Willow looks excited until her eyes scan my room. “I don’t have any clothes.”
“Borrow some of mine.” I nudge my head to my walk-in closet.
Her eyes snap to mine. “I can’t wear your clothes to meet your sister. She’ll think I’m a hussy.”
“Syndi isn’t like that.” I lean down and brush my lips against hers. “She’ll love you.”Nearly as much as I do.
Panicked by my inner monologue, I yank back, pivot on my heels and race down the stairwell. It must be the massive morning wood I have draining my brain of blood, because I’ve never had a thought like that before. Not even once during the nine years I was with Lillian.
“You better hurry before all the good pancakes are gone.”
As I stomp down the stairwell, I reprimand myself.What the fuck was that?Even if it’s true, it doesn’t mean you can just blurt it out like that. You’re the guy, the man, the alpha-fucking-male; you don’t declare that you’re in love first, especially not to the girl you’re crushing on. You’re supposed to hold out, tap her nose like she’s cute the first time she says it before eventually saying it back a good few weeks later, but no, Sir Fuckface nearly blurts it out while assuring her his sister’s pancakes are worth wearing one of my shirts as if it’s a dress.
“Presley!” Syndi’s squeal draws me from my rant. “Happy birthday week! We’re making your favorite.” She wiggles her batter-smeared spatula at Emerick, who is adding chocolate chips into the banana mix.
Her hand falls to her side when I return her greeting. “Why do you smell like. . .” She takes in a deep whiff of air through her nose, not the least bit embarrassed that she’s smelling Willow’s skin on mine. “Honey?”
“Sweet, right?”
Before she can answer, a soft voice over my shoulder whispers, “It’s the oat and honey shampoo I use.”
“You dog.” Sydni’s words are only loud enough for me to hear, but her whack in my gut would be sufficient for ten men. “I’m Syndi Carlton. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
When I spin around to witness their introduction, a chuckle rumbles in my chest. Willow is wearing the cow outfit she had on last night, and Syndi is doing her best to pretend she’s not. Only someone with as much confidence as Willow would think wearing a costume instead of a man’s shirt is the lesser of two evils. That’s one of the things I love about her the most. . .
There I go again, and I don’t even have a stiffy this time around!
As my skin grows clammy with panic, Willow offers up her own introduction. “I’m Willow, or Will as my friends call me.” She glances over my shoulder, her smile picking up when she spots Emerick sitting on the kitchen counter. “And who’s this handsome little guy?”
“That’s Emerick, my son.” Syndi sounds as proud as I do anytime I introduce her and Emerick. “He’s making banana chocolate chip pancakes. Would you like some?”
My panic recedes when Willow replies, “I’d love some.” It’s quick to return when she adds on, “But I have to go. I have dance class in an hour, and I really don’t want to turn up in this.” She points to the udders poking out from her midsection.
Taking Syndi’s laugh as playful instead of scornful, Willow locks her eyes with mine and mouths, “I’ll see you later?”
The worry on her face eases when I nod.
After promising to test out Emerick’s “fantastic cooking” next time, she spins on her heels and heads for the front door. Her already slow steps taper when I call her name.
I wait for her to glance my way before asking, “Are you forgetting something?”
I mean a goodbye kiss, but with her brain still not firing on all cylinders, she doesn’t get what I’m asking. Emerick jumps off the kitchen counter when Willow breaks out the moves she used to fill the dance floor last night. They aren’t moves I learned when I was in school. The funky chicken dance was the only one I knew by heart, but this generation uses video games to get their funky dance moves.
The unexpected feelings I had for Willow earlier hit me full force for the second time when she extends her usually thirty-second farewell dance by a minute and a half so she can teach Emerick how to floss. He had most of it down pat, but his hips were swinging out of sync with his arms.
Once Willow is confident he’s got it, she and Emerick groove across the kitchen like they’ve known each other for years, their happiness uncontained.
At the end of their performance, which is a good five or so minutes, Willow holds her hand out in front of herself. “High-five, Emerick! You did so well.”
When he disses her high-five for a hug, Willow raises her eyes to mine. “Aww, can I keep him?”
Not waiting for me to answer, she drags Emerick toward my front door. Once they’re out of sight, Syndi shifts on her feet to face me. “She’s so damn sweet. I’ve never seen Emerick instantly smitten with someone like that before. How quickly she got him to open up was phenomenal.”
Her gushing ends when I say, “You know she’s not joking, right? If you don’t get out there fast, she’ll kidnap your son.”
It takes Syndi two long heart beats to see the truth in my eyes before she sprints out of the kitchen. It doesn’t take me nearly as long to realize why I slept so well last night.
