Too close.
The air shifts between us. The man cave suddenly feels smaller, the low ceiling pressing down, the faint smell of leather and laundry detergent and him wrapping around me. His chest is inches from mine. I can feel the warmth coming off his body.
My pulse kicks up. If I tilt my head up just a little?—
I glance at my watch instead.
“Maybe you should show me to my room,” I say lightly, forcing my voice into something normal. “I’m sure the boys will be here any minute. Starved, no doubt.”
He doesn’t move right away.
Then he takes a small step back, and scrubs that scruff on his face. “Right.”
I follow him to the stairs, acutely aware of the heat between us. When we reach the main level, he grabs my bag. His arm brushes mine again as we start up the curved staircase, and my breath goes embarrassingly shallow.
“I think I need to get back on the treadmill,” I mutter, more to fill the silence than anything else.
He glances over his shoulder at me, one brow lifting. “Where would you find the time?”
His tone is teasing, but there’s something else under it. Something warmer.
“That’s true,” I admit. “I guess it’s a good thing I do a lot of walking at the café. But if I had to do these stairs every day.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, and the sound rolls through me. “You’d get used to it.”
“Thankfully I don’t have to.”
“Right.”
I catch something is his voice. Something I don’t recognize. Something that makes me think he’s not happy that I don’t have to get used to it.
Oh, girl, don’t make nothing into something. You two had a hook-up. Simple as that.
The upstairs is just as bare as the rest of the house. Clean walls, no art, no personality. It feels temporary. Like he hasn’t decided to fully live here yet.
He stops outside one door. “This is my room.”
My gaze flicks to the handle before I can stop myself. I picture his bed. His sheets. The way his body would look stretched out across it.
He keeps walking.
“This one has a queen bed and a dresser. You might want to take it.” He gestures across the hall. “Those two have double beds.”
I take my bag from him, careful not to let my fingers linger this time. “Thanks, Tuck. I’ll get settled and be right down to cook.”
I step into the room and move to the window. His backyard stretches wide and open behind the house, a blanket of grass waiting for winter. I can already see it with snow—a homemade skating rink like the one Tanner builds for Stella and the rest of the neighbourhood kids.
What my boys wouldn’t give for something like this? Someday though. Someday, I’ll have a house of my own. I turn back around and nearly jump.
Tuck is still standing in the doorway. He hasn’t moved. One hand braced against the frame, the other rubbing along his jaw like he’s working something out in his head.
His gaze is steady. Searching.
And I get it.
I do.
One minute we’re joking about another hook-up. The next, I’m shutting it down before it can happen. We both know how good it would be. But I can’t be selfish. I just can’t.
