Page 132 of Lucky Laces
And it’s a different kind of kiss.
It’s not hot and deep, full of lips and teeth and tongues.
It’s not gentle and slow, lazily tasting me on a morning off.
It’s…a promise.The promise of forever despite the shitstorms.The promise of a future that may not be perfect but will be perfect for us.The promise of?—
“Let’s go, kids!”Ernest calls up the stairs, making us jump apart, chests heaving.“Breakfast is getting cold!”
The promise of smiles shared and lives intertwining and love growing strong and sure.
Hudson presses his forehead to mine, sighs.
I laugh softly.“I’ll get dressed and be right down.”
“Okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs.Then his eyes sparkle with mirth.“But don’t think you telling me you love me means that you’re getting out of weeding.”
More laughter, this time mineandhis.
Then he kisses me briefly before slipping out of the room.
I get dressed, brush my teeth, put up my hair—the better for that forthcoming weeding.Then I head downstairs.
Ernest is sitting at my kitchen table, a plate in front of him that he’s going to town on.
Huddy looks up as I stride into the room, eyes warm.“Coffee, baby?”he asks, holding up a mug.
I nod, whisper, “Thanks.”
He cups my cheek then jerks his chin toward the table.“Your plate’s ready for you.”
“What about you?”
He picks up another plate.“Right behind you.”
“Thank you.”
His brows drag together.“Why you thanking me?”
“For taking care of me,” I murmur.“For making me breakfast.”I touch his cheek.“For loving me.”
Gentle fingers on my cheek, telling me how much he likes to hear that.
And how much he’d like toshowme how much he likes to hear that, if only we didn’t have that senior citizen chaperone.
“Later,” I murmur.
“I’m going to hold you to that.”His lips twitch and he hands me my mug of coffee—with two sugars and a dash of vanilla creamer.
“I sure like having you around much more than that Jason asshole,” Ernest says as he saws off a huge hunk of his French toast.“He never cooked.”He shoves it in his mouth, talking around the bite.“Never even so much as waved hello.”He swallows, cuts off another piece.“He definitely never invited me over for breakfast or offered to help clean out my gutters.”
I glance at Huddy, my lips twitching.
He just shrugs.
“Hell,” Ernest says around another bite.“He never did much of anything except be useless.You on the other hand”—he waves his fork in our direction—“appear to be a halfway decent sort of man.”
Hudson snorts and shakes his head, topping off his own coffee.
