Page 41 of Bidding on a Second Chance
“Don’t look so worried.” He rested his fingers against her cheekbone and gently touched his thumb to the space between her eyebrows.
She consciously relaxed her furrowed brow. “It’s just that …” That they shouldn’t be together. Why not? What had they been talking about? Oh. Right. Bryce. “What if this comes between you and Bryce?”
“That would bother you?”
“Well, yes.”
“Because you want me to mentor him.” Graham moved closer, their bodies nearly touching, his hand lingering near her jawline.
“Because if you two get along …”
“Then …?”
“Then …” She rested her hands on his chest. She shouldn’t linger like this, but the corner of his mouth hooked up, and his breath fanned her cheek.
She stumbled enough to recognize the moment of no return in both physical and emotional circumstances. Such a point hadn’t yet happened here. She could still catch herself. She could back away.
Only she didn’t. “Then something like this could happen.” She’d never more happily surrendered to gravitational pull as when she allowed her body to lean into his. Warmth passed between them as she slid her fingers into the soft, short hair at the nape of his neck.
His lips met hers for a gentle kiss that seemed to ask if this was the something she’d had in mind. Yes, and then some. She conveyed her answer by tightening her hold on him.
They’d done this before. She thought she knew what she was in for. Except, as his mouth claimed hers, she found time had faded her memories of their previous kisses to black and white. This experience blazed in living color. The blue of security, the red of attraction, the yellow of joy, the green of a fresh beginning. The sensations and emotions spun so fast, she’d end up on the floor if not for his arms around her, strong and centering.
When Graham pulled back, he couldn’t seem to decide whether to focus on her lips or her eyes, and he didn’t drop his hands from around her. “Bryce and I will be okay.Iwill be okay. You can trust this.”
She nodded, willing herself to believe him. But already, the logic was wearing thin. She fumbled for the pen she’d dropped.
Graham took another step back, releasing her, his smile fading into a more neutral expression. He returned his focus to the sander. He drew a deep breath that may or may not have hitched once. Perhaps the kiss had affected him as much as her, despite his forever calm and cool demeanor.
“Once you talk to Ryan, we can decide together how to proceed?” The upward hook of his voice, making his statement a question, was a nice gesture. One that had probably not come naturally to take-action Graham.
“Sure.” She’d spent the last two years figuring out how to handle a myriad of parenting situations alone. Having help this time was an immense relief.
But a romance? For the space of the kiss, she’d believed him that if he and Bryce could get along, they might one day be a family. But Bryce was only one obstacle keeping them apart.
Her glued-together heart wouldn’t withstand another tragedy. And the only way to ensure it wouldn’t have to was to keep away from exactly the kind of feelings Graham Lockhart and his mountain-top-blue eyes kept stirring up.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Piper wouldn’t believe it if she weren’t staring at it, but Graham’s coffee table had turned out well. He’d left it propped against a wall, tipped the long way so the texture of the paint would run the length of the piece. The result resembled tree bark as promised, though in a much better way than she’d imagined. After what Teddy had done to the legs of her own coffee table, she wouldn’t mind having this one, with its creamy legs and coppery, swirly top, in her living room.
The puppy extended his nose toward the fresh paint, and Piper pulled back on his leash, remembering what Graham had said about how long it would take to dry.
“What do you think?” Graham had gone out for lunch, and she hadn’t realized he would return so soon. He carried a paper bag in one hand, a drink carrier with two cups in the other.
She thumbed toward the table. “It’s not half bad. And it’s already dry.”
He set his load on a side table and spread a fresh blanket over the top of the one he’d been using as a tarp. “To a light touch. But I pressed on it this morning. I rubbed out the mark I made the best I can, but if you look closely, I suspect my fingerprint is going to be there forever.”
Piper grinned. “A police officer should know better than to leave fingerprints behind.”
He snorted as he removed his coat. Once he’d draped the garment over the back of a chair, he brought his lunch to the center of the blanket. “I got some for you too.”
She’d brought a can of chicken noodle soup, but whatever deep-fried goodness he’d brought smelled a million times better.
“A picnic in the stockroom, huh?” She let go of the scooter and stepped gingerly on her bad foot.
Before she did it again, Graham took her hand, his grip warm and firm. Her stomach twisted at the contact, and she lifted her eyes. He met her gaze, then blinked and looked away. He managed to avoid further eye contact until after he’d helped her settle opposite the food bag from him.
