Page 66 of Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher
“I’m trying to more securely support your weight. I take no pleasure in this.” He then squeezed my butt and pulled me up higher. Our naughty bits were nowhere near each other, thankfully. “Now that you’re feeling dirty, I thought we could try this again. On three, we try out our dirtiest kisses. One. Two. Three.”
His mouth crushed mine, his tongue invaded, wrestling with my own, as his hands continued to caress my butt. After a moment, during which I had the presence of mind to think that he was a darn good kisser, I called the experiment a failure. “Dude, you want to get your hands off my butt now?”
“But my hands love your ass. Don’t make my hands give up their new favorite plaything. It’s cruel.”
I smacked his shoulder. “All right. Enough of this.” I tried to hop down, but he wouldn’t unhand me. Consequently, I was hanging two feet off the ground, my face still close to his, my butt still firmly in his hands.
He squinted at me as though trying to figure out a puzzle. “Why isn’t this working? You’re hot, you’re funny, and I genuinely like you. Why aren’t we losing our shit over each other?”
I thought of Aiden and shrugged. “Is there someone else you’d rather be dirty kissing?”
His gaze slid to the right and he put me down. “Okay, I better get a few of these things done while I’m here. I’ll finish up tomorrow or the next day. It depends on how my other jobs are going.”
A few hours later, Bear had completed all but the ceiling, promising to be back soon to fix it.
He had only been gone a few minutes when I heard Connor return. “Katie, honey, are you here?”
I walked back to the kitchen. “Hi, Connor. You just missed Bear.”
He stopped to pet Chaucer. “Oh, why was he here?”
“Doing some repairs for me. I’m sorry. I haven’t had time to change for dinner. Can you give me a minute?”
He shooed me away. “Go, go. Chaucer and I are going to go sit out back, so take your time.”
When I returned a few minutes later, Connor asked, “Are you hungry?”
My stomach answered for me.
“I may be going deaf, but I heard that. Tiny thing like you, we need to keep your strength up.” We moved back through the French doors into the dining room, and Connor stopped to make sure the door was secure before saying, “I promised lobster. Does that still sound good to you?”
I grabbed his arm. “Do you understand how much I’ve been looking forward to that lobster all day?”
He brought his big mitts in for a loud clap. “Now you’re talking. This is prime lobster season, and Artie was telling me that they’ve been hauling in some big ones, the last few weeks in particular. Come on, my girl. Let’s get moving.”
I looked down at a hopeful Chaucer. I scratched his head and let him down easy. “Sorry, buddy. I can’t take you with me this time. You could sit in the car and wait for us, but that doesn’t seem like much fun.” I walked him back to the kitchen. “How about I leave you with a treat?” I pulled a bully stick from the pantry and handed it over. He had it trapped securely in his big jaw but gave me the downcast, poor-dog look, as well. I leaned over and kissed his massive furry head. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
“Honey, what’s this?” Connor’s voice floated down the hall from the living room.
I found him holding an old envelope with the vacant property’s address and the leasing agent’s phone number. “Oh, just a silly thought.” I was embarrassed and tried to retrieve the information.
Connor easily eluded my reach and pocketed the paper. “You can tell me all about this silly thought of yours over dinner.”
When I pulled a long, belted sweater coat in aubergine from the closet under the stairs, Connor took it from me and held it open so I could slip it on. “Now, this is a good, warm sweater. Did you get it from Maureen?”
I spun, showing off the ensemble. “Yep.” I pointed down. “And the boots!” I swiveled my foot around, still in love with the charcoal gray suede, wedge-heeled boots. They would be worth eating nothing but ramen for a year. Totally.
He chuckled, placing my hand in the crook of his elbow to escort me out. “You look pretty as a picture. Come on; let’s eat.”
As I drove, Connor directed me downtown to Galyn’s on Main Street, a converted 1890’s boardinghouse for local fishermen. The architectural aspects of the historic building remained, but the rooms were now filled with dining tables.
Connor chatted with our host before we were seated at a table, right against the window looking out over Agamont Park and the pier. The view was breathtaking, the sky turning pink in the early evening, the water turning to a deep indigo.
He looked over his menu and then pulled his phone from his pocket. He looked down at the screen, smiled, and then pocketed it again. “Well, I’m going for the Lazy Man’s Lobster. Let them do all the work shelling it, so all I have to do is eat it.” He looked at me, eyebrows raised over the menu top. “Traditional boiled, stuffed, Newburg; what are you in the mood for?”
The waiter dropped off some water and a basket of bread. I tore off a piece while continuing to peruse the menu. I hadn’t eaten anything besides a few snickerdoodles today, and I was starting to feel a little light-headed. “I think for my first Maine lobster in fifteen years, I will opt for the traditional boiled. It’s a classic for a reason, right?”
The waiter, a young man with shaggy hair and a lip ring, returned a few minutes later. “Hey, Mr. Cavanaugh, have you and your date made your decisions yet?”
