Page 18 of Secondhand Secrets

Did I really kiss him last night?

My childhood best friend… also… a fudging amazing kisser!

Fearing her thoughts might somehow escape her mouth, she cleared her throat and went about disappearing behind the kitchen counter.

“Don’t you ever wear shoes?” Blankets rustled from Chip’s general direction, but she refused to look at him just yet. Not while her lips still tingled every time she recalled that kiss.

She glanced down at her watermelon colored toenails and shrugged. “Why would I? I’m in my own home.”

Forgetting her vow not to look at him, she peered up and was punished with a view of gently defined back muscles, her racing pulse forcing her next blurted rebuttal. “Don’t you ever wear a shirt?”

He pushed his feet into the brown plaid slippers borrowed from her dad and merely chuckled, the man far too comfortable in her home, much less his semi-nakedness.

She pressed her lips together and hid behind an open cupboard door, her stream of uncharacteristic shyness less about immaturity, more about the searing need still winding through her body. That need screamed at her to get way too comfortable right back at him. Perhaps in his lap. Just as he’d wanted her to do last night.

“Better?”

She startled at his voice and poked her head out from the cupboard door. Chip now stood in her kitchen, too close, albeit with his white t-shirt from yesterday now on.

Abandoning her attempt to hide, she pushed the cupboard shut, careful not to brush him as she squeezed past on her way to deposit a bag of flour onto the dove-gray counter.

“Here you go.” She reached into a drawer and passed a glass bowl to him before pointing to a small bunch of bananas in the nearby fruit basket. “You can help. Get mashing.”

His gaze shifted from the bowl, to the fruit basket, and then onto her, his attention holding for a beat too long. More a question about last night than the task she’d just lumped on him. He wanted to talk. She did too. But what to say exactly?

At least her parents had taken Whitney out early, first to the morning markets and then back to Laila’s house for lunch. No one would be around to witness the awkwardness of what would be said.

She had regrets over that kiss. Still, for once in her life, she’d choose the grown-up approach and put friendship over impulse. She loved having Chip back. Loved the plain and simple fun of having him near. But he’d be leaving soon, and she didn’t want to ruin this rare and close bond.

“Got many plans for today?” She opened another drawer and pulled out a masher for him, quick to dodge any more eye contact in favor of retrieving eggs and milk from the fridge.

“Just ironing out bugs in my current project.”

“Oh, yeah?” She retrieved her own bowl and got to work on the counter beside him. “What exactly does this program do, anyway?”

“Encryption.”

“Encryption?” She frowned down at the batter slowly thickening before her, the sweet-milky scent a nice diversion from the oaky, crisp peppermint that always tended to waft from his skin. “You mean like emails and stuff?”

“Yeah, protecting sensitive information.” He stepped closer and tipped the now pulpy bananas into her bowl, his long fingers seeming a contradiction of nimble and strong. “I’m starting with email encryption with room to expand.”

He took the spatula from her hand, and she stepped back, reclaiming some breathing room and accepting his silent offer to fold the remaining ingredients together.

“So, does your program have a name?” She lowered a pan to the stove and turned on the heat.

“Stonewall.” Again, he drew near, stealing her space, this time to offer the finished batter.

So, she covered her need for distance with humor. “You mean, like when someone is acting all cagy and weird?”

Kinda like I am now…

“More like a nod to the limestone fortresses used in centuries past to keep the enemy out, but sure, caginess works too.” Again, his easy chuckle blanketed her with a soft and tingly sensation all over.

He leaned back against the section of counter next to her, his fingers curling into the stone edge.

The stance highlighted his long torso, igniting her desire to draw closer and press her body against his, maybe because she sensed he wouldn’t reject her if she did.

She pried her focus off him and onto dropping batter into the hot pan. Though she could have asked more questions on his work, she figured he’d just end up saying a bunch of things she didn’t understand, so silence seemed the better option.

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