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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kris stalled for as long as she could.
She enticed Nate into sex again when they woke up—though it didn’t take much enticing—and, unlike last night, their lovemaking was languid and sensual, filled with long kisses and soft caresses. By the time they got downstairs, Skylar had already left to meet her friends and Michael was mowing the lawn. Judging by the surprised look on Nate’s face when he saw his father tending to the front yard, Michael hadn’t operated the lawnmower in quite a while.
Kris convinced Nate to let Michael handle it—the elder Reynolds needed to prove to himself and to his children he could take care of things around the house on his own—and to allow her to make pancakes for breakfast.
Jeez, she set the pan on fireonce,when she tried cooking an omelet, and Nate acted like she would burn down the kitchen every time she stepped within two feet of the stove.
Luckily, no pans caught on fire this time around, and Kris brandished the slightly burnt pancakes with triumph.
“The burns are your fault,” she said when Nate eyed the blackened flapjacks dubiously. “You distracted me with your kisses.”
The dubious stare morphed into a slow, panty-melting smile. “I’d eat all the burnt pancakes in the world for one of your kisses.” To prove his point, he sawed off the darkest portion of his breakfast with a knife and popped it into his mouth.
He even made chewing look sexy.
“You and your damn charm,” she grumbled while her heart pole-vaulted in her chest. “It’s not fair.”
That earned her another smile.
Nate could charm the panties off a nun with that grin of his, and he knew it.
Kris set aside extra pancakes for Michael, who came into the house right as she and Nate were finishing up.
“Oh, I’ll just reheat them after I freshen up,” Michael said when Kris realized the food had gone cold. “No big deal.”
“Did the lawnmower give you trouble?” Nate’s brow furrowed. “It can get tricky, especially near the corner by the sidewalk.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Michael bobbed his head. “All good.”
“What about the section by the fence? It’s—”
“Nate, I got it,” his father said gently. “Relax. Enjoy your Saturday with Kris. I’ll take care of things around here.”
Nate’s frown deepened. “But—”
Kris caught his eye and gave a subtle shake of her head.
Nate pressed his lips together. “All right.”
“We should do something about the shed in the backyard, though. It needs a good clearing out. There are tools in there that don’t even work anymore.” Michael paused, then added hopefully, “Maybe we could do it together. Have a father-son chore day one of these days.” A nervous chuckle. “I guess it doesn’t sound too fun when I put it like that.”
Kris sipped her juice and stayed silent. Nate and his father were making progress toward rebuilding the trust between them, but it would take a while before things were back to the way they used to be—if that was even possible.
“Sure,” Nate said. “That sounds…” He trailed off before repeating. “Sure.”
Michael looked like he’d just won a record jackpot. “Great.” He beamed. “We can work out the details later.”
Kris couldn’t suppress a smile at the elder Reynolds’ joy. The man practically floated out of the room—as much as a fifty-three-year-old could float, anyway.
“I can’t believe I just agreed to a day of chores with my old man,” Nate said. “High school me would’ve been appalled.”
“Don’t lie. You’re looking forward to it.”
He pointed a fork at her. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, which is why I think you spending quality time with your dad is a good thing, even if said quality time involves physical labor.” Kris wrinkled her nose at the thought of all the dust and sweat.
