Page 62 of Kissing for Keeps
She raises the little white box of chicken above her head, and I smile because I’m taller and have a longer wingspan than her. This is child’s play. Quite literally. I have become a child again to be stooping to this level. Next thing you know, I’ll be pulling her pigtails and saying “Neener neener neener!”
I bring a leg up, preparing to stand on the cushions to get my chicken.
“Jack!” she shouts, her body wobbling precariously on the edge of the couch arm as she watches me with wide eyes.
I pause, pointing to the box of chicken she’s holding above her. She shakes her head.
So, I do what has to be done. I tickle her.
Her arm shoots to her side, and she doubles over to protect her vulnerabilities, throwing her off balance and toward me. I have no choice—no choice, you hear?—but to fall back, my arms around her, protecting the cherished sesame chicken from certain death by sandwiching it between us as I lower myself onto the arm of the couch.
Siena’s laughing and pulling away, and even though I want to keep my arms around her, I reluctantly let her go.
“You’re ridiculous!” she says, rising on her knees and checking the area for sesame chicken.
My strategy worked really well, though, and only one stray piece fell out. It sits on my chest.
Our eyes meet for a split-second, then both of us reach for it. My hand gets there first, but hers wraps around it, trying to wrest the piece of chicken from my grasp. I bring my hand to my mouth, though, and manage to get it in there despite her efforts to prevent me.
Defeated, she pulls back again and watches me chew while I give her a thumbs up.
It’s a miracle I’ve survived the past two minutes without making a sound. If there was a competition for church mice, I’d be crowned king.
She reaches for my hand, turning it over to look at my palm like maybe the chicken is still there. But all that’s left is sesame sauce and a couple of seeds.
I smile, but she’s not watching me. Her hand is cradling the back of mine, and she’s staring down at it, a slight frown on her brow.
My smile fades, and my heart rate kicks up a few notches from its already quick pace. What’s she thinking? Her thumb runs softly over my knuckles, sending chills up my arm and all over my body.
My focus is fixed on her face, trying to understand what’s happening, wishing I could peek into her brain for a split second. We were just wrestling over Chinese chicken, but now she’s staring at my hand like she’s having an epiphany. She adjusts her hand, sliding her fingers up behind mine. I open mine slightly, making room for hers in the spaces between, dying for a peek into her thoughts.
Her eyes flick to mine, and we stay like that for a few seconds as my body lights on fire thinking of kissing her again, here and now.
She pushes our hands up and toward me so they’re right in front of both of our faces. They look good together, and I think she agrees because she’s staring at them, too.
Her mouth draws up into a subtle smile, and I match her expression with my own. Suddenly, she pushes my hand into my face, wiping the sesame sauce down my forehead, my nose, my chin.
Sticky-faced and stunned, I keep my eyes shut until her hand releases mine. When I open them, she’s making herself comfortable again in her old spot. She sets the box of sesame chicken in her right hand, looks at me, and gives a thumbs up before turning to the movie.
22
JACK
After the humiliationof the sesame chicken episode, I keep my distance for the remainder of the movie. The courageous mouse has cowered in his corner.
But Siena takes pity on me halfway through and gives me permission to talk. My relief is significant, because you know what? It’s really hardnotto seem embarrassed by what just happened when I have nothing but silence at my disposal. To be clear, Iamembarrassed.She got me good with that little move. But she’ll never know it wounded my pride, so I keep up an infrequent but teasing commentary on the movie as a cover.
The next day, we switch things up, and I go with Rémy to a suit fitting and to pick up a few decor items in the van. I really like Rémy, and when the topic of dating comes up, I’m half-tempted to tell him about these growing feelings I’m having for Siena—not mentioning her by name, of course—because he seems like a guy I wouldn’t mind having as not just a brother-in-law but an actual friend.
But I refrain because what’s the point? Siena’s not about to pursue anything with me—she’s too loyal to Madi. She’s right to be. I’ve never managed to have a successful, long-term relationship. Probably because I’ve never really tried. The thought of being relied on in that way and then inevitably disappointing someone? I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. It’s much easier to keep things fun and surface-level.
When we get back to the chateau, it’s almost dinnertime, and Siena’s in the bathroom taking a shower.There’sa visual I don’t need right before she leaves on a date with Philippe.
I pull out my laptop and check my work emails at the table while snacking on strawberries. It’s close to dinner, but I don’t even know if I’ll eat anything else. Or maybe I should go to the restaurant Philippe’s taking Siena to. I could find a booth in the corner and keep a watch on him, make sure he doesn’t get too handsy.
Who am I kidding? This is Philippe we’re talking about. He couldn’t keep his hands off her “cardigan” five minutes after meeting her.
I mean, to be fair, I kissed her the first night I met her, but that’s different.
