“Hey, Kash.” I turn at the sound of her voice, and my legs get caught in the blanket. Before I know it, I’ve lost my balance, falling out. Mila shouts in surprise, so I can only assume she’s tumbling out too because of me.
Quickly grabbing a hold of her, I pull her to the side, taking the brunt of the fall onto the cold ground. When I land, I must let out a groan or grunt because she looks at me with worry.
“Oh my God, Kash. Are you okay?” Mila is straddling my waist, leaning over me with concern marring her features. Even in the dark, I can see her eyes roaming over me. Our blankets are tangled around her back; I can feel her heat through her pants and now I’m fucking hard.
The image of her in the same position but naked in my bed flits through my mind. My hands move to her hips to hold her in place. “Oh, I’m perfectly fine, Sweetheart.”
Rolling her eyes, Mila stands up, and brushes against my dick. She levels me with a dirty look as she shakes her head. “You are something else, Kash.”
“A good something, I hope,” I retort with a wink.
I watch as she grabs the blankets and folds them quickly. Shrugging, she starts to walk away, leaving me on the ground.
“That remains to be seen,” she hollers over her shoulder.
It’s not the only thing remaining to be seen, but I’ll let her have it for now.
Chapter Twelve
Mila
The last few weeks have flown by. With the holidays quickly approaching, I’ve been busier than ever making pies, breads, and treats for everyone’s festivities. I don’t mind it, even when the days are long and hard on my body. It's what I love doing. Making an extra apple pie for Mrs. Shank’s Thanksgiving because she knows her sister-in-law will eat almost a whole one, or putting a few extra cookies in for Mr. Davis’ order because they’re his wife’s top pregnancy craving and he doesn’t want to be without.
Stretching out, I hear my phone chime. Probably Kash again. Over the last week or so, he’s taken to sending me random messages throughout the day. It’s always some type of fun fact. I’ve looked at his messages more than I care to admit. There’s something endearing about a big, tattooed man like Kash. He’s got this happy-go-lucky side to him, and I thought it was all just an act, but I’m starting to see it’s just who he is. He also has a serious side, and I’m trying to figure out which one is real.
He stops by occasionally to chat before he goes into the shop. He always brings me some type of sandwich or wrap, saying they gave him a double by accident. Given that it ‘accidentally’ happens every time he’s here, I’m thinking that’s a big fat lie. Even if it is a sweet gesture, it makes me wonder how long I can hold out on the whole ‘just friends’ thing.
Grabbing my phone, I try not to let the stupid grin cross my face when I see his newest fun fact.
Future Husband: You need approximately 540 peanuts to make a jar of peanut butter. How many do you go through with those cupcakes?
Future Husband: A group of crows is called a ‘murder’. Can you imagine? “Look at that murder over there.”
Laughing, I can’t help but wonder what goes through his brain most of the day.
Me: I probably use thousands of peanuts a week, and everyone knows that a group of crows is a murder.
Future Husband: Fine. But Australia is wider than the moon.
Me: It is not.
Future Husband: Google it.
Sighing, I do a quick search and son of a bitch, he’s right. How is a continent bigger than the moon?
Future Husband: You looked it up, didn’t you?
Me: Maybe.
Future Husband: Tell me I wasright.
Me: No.
Future Husband: Well, that’s not nice.
Me: I never said I was.
Biting my lip, I watch as the dots appear and disappear a few times. I shouldn’t encourage him, but he’s a fun guy. Too bad all he wants is a fun time.
