Page 97 of Pucked Up Plans
“You are. You’re a wonderful dad, a great friend, a remarkable man.” I stop myself before I spill every single exceptional quality about him. “Did I thank you for today’s flowers? I’m always forgetting to show my appreciation. They’re my favorite.”
My accolade earns more of his devotion. “Which ones?”
I smile. “All of them. Any of them.”
“But which ones do you like the most?” His curiosity is adorable and coupled with how he’s made sure I’m okay with what’s currently happening, I can’t help but grin wider and give him more of my truths.
“The ones that come from you.” I wiggle myself out of his arms and onto his lap, my thighs straddling his as I face him. “The thought, the simple gesture, the pretty colors. I love them all.”
His scrutiny of my face makes me blush slightly. Apprehension fills his features, but it’s more for me than him. Especially when he asks, “You’re okay?”
My go-to answer—yep—seems too flippant. And besides, I’m not fully okay. I won’t be until knowing, without a doubt, he’s right, and we didn’t make a colossal mistake.
I shrug. “Meh. I want to be, but until I know for sure, the thought will linger in the back of my mind, the ‘what if’ and ‘we should have been more careful’ opinions screaming at me.”
“It kills me I was so stupid to say something so dumb, but no matter what, I don’t regret what we did. Do you?”
“You kept your promise.”
Do I explain I have regrets? I regret being so selfish and needing to know what it was like to feel him inside me.
His fingers run through my hair, brushing wayward strands out of my face. “It was amazing for me too. One day, I hope we get to experience it again. Just think of how much better it will be.”
The potential for what he suggests thrills me. The parts of me not currently freaking out about the consequences of our actions. Because he’s right. It was damn amazing. I always heard sex should be pleasurable and fun, but that was never my experience. Until Walsh.
I divert his thinking away from this subject. “Want some pie now?”
“Damn straight.” He makes no move to get up. A subtle crease on his forehead, below his healing battle wound scar, forms. “Are we okay?”
The words get stuck in my throat, so I nod my answer. From the way he doesn’t immediately relax, it’s not what he was hoping for, so I whisper, “I think so.”
My cheeks cupped in his palms, he brings my head closer to his. He leans in for a kiss but instead of the passionate ones we’ve partaken, his lips leave the sweetest, most chaste kiss on the corner of my lips. At the moment, it’s exactly what I need. And damn if my heart doesn’t shout,Hey, Tate’s head, get on board with this!
“Think we can still shower together?” He sets my feet on the ground as he stands from the bed.
I don’t let his question get to me. Just because I haven’t had a chance to fully ponder it yet doesn’t mean I want to say no.
“There’s a high probability of a positive outcome.”
I turn for the door, heading for the kitchen, his body heat surrounding me as he drapes his arms over my shoulders from behind.
“I’ll take those odds.”
“I thought you might.”
Over pie and leftovers, Walsh fills me in on the details of the fundraiser, gives me a crash course about members of the hockey team, and compliments the pie no less than a dozen times.
“Can we make this together one day?”
I raise my brow at his use of “we.” “Likewemade all the other things? I cook, you clean?”
Before speaking, he swallows the last bite, savoring it. His eyes fall closed on a moan. “I want to help. Will you teach me?”
I confirm what he’s asking. “To make pecan pie?”
“Yep.”
“In exchange for blow job lessons?” I utter. Although, I’m not sure he could be any worse a student in the kitchen than I was in the bedroom. Then the image of him peeling potatoes emerges and confirms he could be. “Yes. I’d like to teach you how to make pecan pie, as inept as you are in the kitchen. I’m up for the task.”
