With a small smile she runs a perfectly manicured finger through the frosting on top of my muffin. Then she licks it clean. Slowly. Wetly. Eyes on mine the whole time.
Motherfucker.
"Mm, delicious," she says, bright and cheerful, and stands up. "See you out there."
She leaves me there, jaw clenched so hard it is painful. My head goes back against the wall with a thud.
I've been upfor twenty-two hours. Twelve-hour shift, a structure fire on Pine, an hour of cleanup, twenty minutes sitting in my car in the driveway because my body knew it was home, but my brain was still running incident review. Then six hours of sleep. Not enough, but what I had.
The shower helped. I pull on shorts, no shirt, and come downstairs for water and caffeine. And find Lily in my kitchen.
She's at the counter with her back to me, phone propped against the backsplash, something low playing. She'shumming, a dish towel over her shoulder. The stovetop has a pot going and the whole room smells like garlic and tomato and home.
Today, she has these wide-legged jeans on, but they're snug on her ass. I take a deep breath and try not to stare. Fail immediately. She's paired them with a plain black t-shirt that meets the waist of her jeans, simple and effortless in a way that makes it worse, not better.
Her hair is up in a messy bun that's already coming apart. As always. Three seconds and my fingers are itching to pull on the elastic just to see what happens, just to watch it fall.
It's a good thing she tries to contain it. Every time that hair falls loose, I go salivating like a dog. Pavlov would have a field day with me.
She turns around, and her eyes move over me like I'm something she's deciding whether to keep. All the way down, all the way back up, completely shameless about it while I stand here half-dressed and unable to remember why I came downstairs in the first place.
"Your dad's in the workshop," she says, a little too quickly. "He's doing good with the cast off."
"Good," I manage. Genuinely impressive, all things considered.
"I left dinner on the stove. Enough for both of you."
"You didn't have to do that."
She picks up her bag, loops it over her shoulder, and walks straight toward me. The kitchen has plenty of space to go around, but she doesn't use it.
She slides past me close enough that her hip presses against my thigh, fleeting, and when she stops just in front ofme the height difference means she has to tilt her head up to meet my eyes. She does it like it's nothing. Like standing this close to me in my own kitchen with my shirt off is just another Tuesday.
"And miss seeing these abs?" Her voice is so low and close, I can feel her breath against my neck.
I have nothing. Absolutely nothing. Every word I've ever learned is gone. All I can do is stare at her and wish she would get up on her toes and press that mouth to mine.
She smiles sweetly and turns for the door.
"Night, Callahan."
The door clicks shut. I grip the counter and don't move for a long time.
11:47PM.
Dad's been asleep for hours. I gave up on the TV a long time ago. My brain won't shut off, and I know exactly why, which makes it worse.
She hadn't stopped by today, which was for the best. She shouldn't have. The less she comes around, the better off I'll be. I know this. I believe this. And yet it was my day off, and like the complete idiot I am, I spent it hoping she'd show up just so I could look at her. That's all I get, a look, and I'm so far gone that a look is enough.
I curse and grab my phone, wander to the kitchen looking for food. The last of the sarma Zuri's girlfriend Selin made me yesterday is in the fridge. I take the whole plate, sit at the counter, and eat in the middle of the night like the pathetic fool I am. My phone buzzes.
Lily
Good morning. Can you show this to your dad? It's for the jewelry box. He said his phone is broken and I could text it to you. I'm off to Chicago a few days and he needed it by tomorrow. Thanks and have a great day
Attached is a picture of a wooden box. Simple. Beautiful.
My lying, scheming father, whose phone works perfectly well mind you, would make her a dozen boxes if she so much as hinted she wanted them.
