“I’ve had some practice.” I turned to give her a smile. “Want to have a go at kneading the dough?”
Lola clasped her hands under her chin. “Can I?”
“Of course.”
Her eyes narrowed. She meant business. The tip of her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, she gently kneaded the dough, flicking a look up at me every so often, seeking my reassurance she was doing it right.
“You’re doing good, love,” I said.
She smiled so big and bright, I didn’t even kick myself for calling her that ridiculous name again.
“How long do I keep this up for?” she asked.
“About ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes! Okay.” Her hands left a white outline on her apron when she planted them on her hips. She jerked her chin down in a nod. “Yes. I can do it.”
My eyes wandered over her as she went back to work, memorising every tiny detail. The way her glasses slid down her nose. How her hair slipped from behind her ear to hide her face. My gaze drifted lower. Painted pink toenails. Bloody hell. Even her toes were pretty.
My mind floated back to my dishonourable thoughts about Lola sprawled on her sheets. That was a mistake. I couldn’t concentrate. South of the equator stole the blood from my brain. I grabbed the glass of iced tea Lola had poured me and took a huge gulp. Should I leave? It was the last thing I wanted to do. I glanced out the window. The sun still floated high in a pale blue sky. I had more time…
Lola huffed her adorable grunts of effort for a couple of minutes. “I think the dough’s getting softer, but…”
“You need to put a bit moreoomphin it.”
Her lip curled. “I’m putting in theoomph!”
“More.” Hesitantly, I pressed my palm gently over her hand to guide it deeper into the dough. My eyes closed as air shuddered into my lungs. A simple touch, so innocent, yet it felt like something I shouldn’t be doing. “Like this.” I rocked my hand with hers. “Feel the difference?”
“O-oh. Y-yes.” She gulped. “I do.” She glanced up at me from the corner of her eye. “Aiden?”
I inched my other hand to rest on her shoulder. “Yes, Lola?” My fingers were rough like sandpaper. The patch of freckles disappearing under the sleeve of her dress was too precious for hands like mine, but I’d give anything to touch one of those marks on her skin.
“A-are you…?”
Her hair was precious too. “Yes?” I stared, almost spellbound, as I wound the pale rose-gold strands around my finger.
“Are you”—she gulped—“going to…kiss me?”
“Do you want me to?” I heard her little gasp when the tip of my nose nuzzled into the soft hair curled around her ear. I loved that spot. She smelled even better this close.
“Y-yes.”
She was right to be cautious of me, but I took what I wanted. I pressed soft lips to her forehead. “Was that okay, love?”
“Yes.”
I ghosted a featherlight kiss to the edge of her smile. “And that?”
“Very yes.”
“What about a longer kiss?” I ran my thumb over her bottom lip. “Here.”
Lola nodded.
“But what if…” I bent forward but didn’t kiss her mouth. Not yet. I pressed my lips to her cheek again instead. “Lola, I’m not a good man.” If I were, I wouldn’t have accepted her invitation. I should’ve walked away weeks ago and never started any of this. “I’m not.” The tip of my nose grazed hers. “I can’t make you happy.”
“Now is enough, Aiden,” she said. “And I’m happy now.”
