I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted something more. I can only imagine what that facial hair will feel like scratching against me, how those lips will press to mine. I push onto my toes, getting closer.
“Daddy!” Rosie’s voice sounds a moment before the sound of her feet running fills the kitchen. The two of us practically leap apart, and I spin away, pretending to be busy by opening a drawer even though I’m simply just staring at cutlery.
“Hey bug,” There’s a tightness in Silas’s voice, a barely held restraint, but I don’t dare look at him. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did!” She pulls a chair out, the legs scraping across the floor, and climbs onto it. “I want pancakes.”
Silas tuts, “That isn’t how we ask, now is it?” He scolds gently.
“Sorry,” her little voice sounds sincere, “Please, may I have pancakes?”
“Better,” he praises her. “I can make you pancakes.”
“Thank you,” she answers politely.
I’m still staring at forks and spoons when Silas steps up behind me, his bare chest pressing against my spine. “I just need to get the mix.” He says it quietly, his voice vibrating through me, breath whispering against the shell of my ear.
“Okay,” I breathe.
He reaches above me and pulls down a bag, placing it on the side before his voice is back.
“Are they talking to you?”
“Who?” I frown.
“The spoons.”
The drawer slams shut as I go hot from head to toe.
“We may have been interrupted, Juniper,” The way he says my full name makes me shiver, “But don’t think for one second we’re not revisiting this.”
That dangerous territory we were dancing in has just become a full-blown battle. His words have an ache spreading through me, starting from my lower abdomen and down to my thighs.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” I breathe, and even to my ears the words aren’t convincing.
“I don’t give a fuck about good ideas right now.” He growls.
“Why are you guys whispering?” Rosie pipes up from behind us. “I can’t hear you.” Then a quick, sharp gasp leaves her, and we both spin, expecting to see her hurt or falling. When she’s clearly fine, her little hands firm on the table and her eyes wide, we relax a little. “Are you talking about my birthday!?” she demands.
A burst of laughter erupts from Silas, and he steps away, taking the dry pancake mix with him so he can grab the eggs and milk from the fridge. “Rosie, love,” he laughs, “your birthday isn’t for another four months.”
“But I’m going to be six!” Rosie’s wide eyes hold her father's. “Six, Daddy! That’s a big number that needs a big party.”
“You’re right,” Silas agrees. “Do you want blueberries with your pancakes or strawberries?”
The switch in conversation is deliberate, but Rosie falls for it as she contemplates which kind of berry she wants for her breakfast so I take the distraction and slip away, shutting myself in Silas’s ensuite so I can wash my face and brush my teeth. I make it quick so there’s no chance of him catching me in here, not when he’s busy making breakfast, and then I lock myself in my room to get ready for work.
I’m only working at the ranch today since I have the meteorite shower with Silas, Caleb, and Rosie tonight. We just need some space between us, and whatever this was this morning will be forgotten.
The flirting is clearly a symptom of a heavy, tense night, where emotions ran high. This doesn’t have to be anything, but even as I think it, I know it isn’t fact. I can’t deny how much IwantSilas.
But I just can’t have him.
I carry too much baggage.
Have too much weight holding me down.
It would be unfair—hell, me being here is unfair to all of them.
