Page 125 of Reeves

That we can't do that.

Reeves doesn't flinch. His eyes soften instead, one corner of his mouth lifting. He steps back, giving me space, but his eyes never leave mine.

"Just one kiss." His voice is light, almost teasing, but the want underneath is unmistakable. "One kiss and I'll be a perfect gentleman all morning. Scout's honor."

I should say no. I know exactly where this leads. Instead, I step forward, because if I comply, maybe he will honor his promise.

And, well, if I'm completely honest, I want just one more kiss…

His mouth finds mine instantly. There's nothing gentle about this kiss. His hands cup my face, thumbs pressing into my jawline. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer.

The pressure builds as my body instinctively arches into his, physiological need taking over where logic fails.

Soft footsteps pad towards us on the other side of the wall.

I break away first. Reeves steps back smoothly, reaching for the red mug I'd pulled down for him.

"Mom, can I have chocolate milk with my pancakes, please?" Benjy appears in the doorway, his hair sticking up on one side.

I turn to the refrigerator, grateful for the cool air on my flushed face. "Sure, buddy."

"Reeves said he'd make my pancakes look like boats," Benjy announces, climbing onto a stool at the counter.

Reeves grins. "I said I'd try. No promises on how they'll look."

I watch them, these two parts of my life that were never meant to overlap. I never imagined in a million years I'd be sharing our Sunday chocolate chip pancakes with Reeves Stone.

The coffee machine beeps, startling me back to reality.

"We can head to the tow yard after," I say, reaching for reality to pull us out of this fantasy. I need solid ground.

"We can head out after I finish making these boats," Reeves says, sliding pancake batter onto the griddle and then shaping it with a butter knife. "I'll give you the address as soon as I can grab it off my phone."

After a feeble but admirable attempt at pirate ship-shaped pancakes, he finally retires from the griddle and lets me finish cooking the batter.

He checks his phone while handing Benjy the plate of three Rorschach-esque pancakes with his free hand. The domestic ease of his movements in my kitchen is too natural, too right.

He gives me the address, and I pull it up on my Waze app.

"It's not far," I say, glancing up. "Ten minutes, tops."

Benjy swallows a mouthful of syrup-soaked pancake. "After we get Reeves's truck, can we still go to the aquarium? You promised."

My heart sinks. The aquarium. I completely forgot he was supposed to go today. Between Reeves staying overnight and everything that followed, it completely slipped my mind.

"The aquarium?" Reeves looks up, curious.

"Yeah, his friend, Paolo, invited him to go today. I need to follow up with his mom."

I realize the aquarium will save all of us. Benjy will be gone, so there will be no begging from him and no reason to stay for Reeves.

Benjy chattersfrom the back seat about stingrays and sharks, filling the awkward silence between Reeves and me. Every time we catch each other's eye, I look away first. Every accidental brush of hands when he points to a turn feels electric.

I focus on the road, on the practical task ahead. Reeves will get his truck and leave. He'll drive back to New Orleans, and we'll figure out visitation schedules and support payments later.

From a distance.

With clear boundaries.