Page 115 of At First Smile
He gapes.
I continue, “You can stay at my place. I’m at Pen’s all the time. Plus, training camp will start soon, so I’ll barely be there. You’d run the kitchen. I have a manager who handles all the rest.”
“There are so many reasons to say no.”
“You only need one reason to say yes.”
He tips his head. “The kitchen will be my domain to run as I see fit?”
“Yes.” My mouth slants into a smirk.
“And you’re really at Pen’s all the time, because the idea of moving from one little brother’s home to anoth er’s is humiliating.”
“Yes.” Laughing, I shake my head.
“Okay.” He puts his hand out.
And I take it. “Okay.”
As the comforting scent of the baking shepherd’s pie wafts around the room, the murmured voices of the rest of our party returning from their walk fill the house. Gillian sits outside onthe back deck. I’ve come back in to grab each of us another Guinness. I place the bottles of stout on the kitchen island to open, and to wait for who I know will appear in3…2…1
Pen enters the kitchen, hope and concern etched on her face. “Hey.”
Crossing the room, I pull her into my arms and kiss her senseless. Her pliant lips meet each press before she opens for me. Fingers woven into her hair, I pull her deeper into my thankful kiss. I know what she did and the worry that twisted itself inside her over the last hour. I feel it in the way her body slumps against me in relief.
“I take it that your conversation went well,” she says, breath ragged.
I glide my thumb across her jaw. “It did. Thank you for pushing me.”
“I’m sorry if I… Well, let’s face it… I overstepped. I’m sorry for that. I saw an opportunity and took it.”
“Are you sorry?” Playfulness coats my accusation.
“Yes and no.” Her fingers dance along my forearm. “I’m sorry that I didn’t pull you aside and suggest you talk to Gillian. That I didn’t tell you that he was more open to fixing things than you thought. For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry I seized the opportunity… at least not now that I can see the heaviness that you carried is gone. Sometimes love is about making someone eat their carrots.”
“What? You hate carrots,” I guffaw.
“It’s something Aunt Bea would tell me about my mom. That, sometimes, people do things that are good for us that we, for whatever reason, don’t want to or can’t do. Carrots.”
“Well, I ate my carrots, and so did Gillian.”
“Good.” Her eyes sparkle with smug satisfaction.
“You said I could be mad at you later.” My low voice almost rumbles.
Her mouth forms an O. “And what doesbeingmadat me look like?”
Skating my hands down her lush curves, I grip her ass. “Is tying someone up still on the table?”
“I believe that was for me to tieyouup, but…” She bats her eyes.
“Seriously? You best really spend all your time at Pen’s because I’m not going to last long if each time I walk into the condo you two are like this,” Gillian grumbles as he enters the kitchen and saunters to the island to grab one of the bottles of Guinness.
Pen’s eyebrows draw into a line. “Condo?”
“Yeah. About that…” I grin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
