Page 156 of Small Town Firsts

“Yeah, well, we can’t all be fancy-schmancy cooks like you and Alden Gordon Ramsay over there.”

At the sound of his name, Alden breaks away from his conversation with Tatum and turns to look at us. “Huh? What’s going on?”

“Natalie was complaining about my kitchen skills.”

Alden barks out a low, sexy laugh. “What kitchen skills?”

“See!” I exclaim, air-fiving Alden.

He returns the gesture with a wink, causing my heart to drop to my stomach.

“I’m so hungry I don’t care if it’s a soggy grilled cheese—let’s eat!” my dad says, as he stands and leads the way into the kitchen.

We all follow suit. Nate opens the oven door with a flourish and pulls out two frozen pizzas that are slightly charred around the edges—case in point. Wanting to be a gracious-ish house guest, I keep my smartass comments to myself. Alden and my mother, however, do not.

“Nathanial Reynolds! You do not invite guests into your home and serve them store-brand freezer fare!”

“Right? Up high, Mrs. Melanie.” Alden and mom slap their hands together. “Dude, you have to know I would’ve cooked.”

“It didn’t feel right asking you to cook for your own party. That’s like wrapping your own Christmas gifts.”

Tatum puts a stop to everyone’s bickering. “Peoples! Who cares? It’s pizza!”

“That’s my girl,” my dad bellows, as he scoops her up and pretends to fly her to the eat-in table. “Quit your bit—whining and eat!”

After the pizza is long gone, it’s past Tatum’s bedtime, and her temperament shows it. Gone is my sweet, smiling girl, and in her place is a grump-monster of epic proportions.

She’s currently snuggled up in my dad’s lap with him soothing her little tantrums as they come. Every couple of minutes her eyelids droop closed before she bolts upright, a new bout of tears welling in her desperation to fend off sleep.

Quietly, I excuse myself from the table to gather her toys. Once I’m positive I have everything, I make my way to the front door. Only a deep, masculine voice stops me in my tracks.

“Going somewhere?”

Looking back over my shoulder, I see Alden looking like a freaking Adonis, propped up against the little half-wall bookshelf-mah-jig between the entryway and the formal dining room that never gets used. Well, at least not for eating—Nate has a freaking pool table in it.

My eyes eat him greedily, loving the way his dark wash denim hugs his powerful thighs.Gah. He’s seriously too sexy for his own good.

“Just taking everything out to the car so I’ll be able to carry Tatum.”

“Look at you, girl.” He pushes off of the wall and steps toward me, grinning. “Beauty and brains.”

His playful words make my heart stutter in my chest.Did he just call me beautiful? Holy shit…

Apparently, my face gives away every thought racing through my brain, because Alden laughs as he slips Tatum’s bag from the crook of my elbow. “You really are beautiful, you know that, right?”

I can feel my cheeks turn rosy and warm with equal parts embarrassment and delight. Because let’s be real—there’s something so validating about your lifelong crush finding you attractive. Even if nothing will ever come of it, because you’re a lying liar who lies—even if your intentions were misguided but pure.

“C’mon, Small Fry. I’ll help you get everything loaded up.”

I want to argue with him, to send him away and do it myself—I mean, there are only two bags—but I don’t. Because my time with him is precious.

We walk side by side to my car, his arm occasionally brushing against mine. I feel like a teenager on a first date, which is ridiculous. Alden pulls open the passenger door, and we toss the bags into the car. I start back the way we came, but he stops me with a hand to the wrist, gently tugging me back to him.

I spin to face him, and he drags his eyes over me like he’s committing every detail to memory. His tongue darts out, running across his full, kissable lower lip, and I swear on all that’s holy, my thighs clench together.That’s how you know it’s been a while…when a guy licking his lips gives you a lady boner.

“I gotta tell you, Nat, Tatum is something else. She’s so smart and articulate for a…what, three-year-old? And she’s so damn funny. Almost everything she said had me in stitches. I can tell a lot of that is how you have raised her; you’re an amazing mother.”

I’m gonna puke. Exorcism style.I try to open my mouth to reply, but a small sob gets stuck in my throat. Alden, misreading my reaction, wraps me in his strong arms. “Shh. You’re good girl; you’re good.”

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