Page 33 of Pucked Up Plans
“I’m sorry. That was rude. You don’t have to answer.”
Her relief is evident, and her shoulders sink from her ears.
Behind her, a clock glows with the time, and we’ve probably overstayed our welcome. Not to mention the fact my kid peed on her couch.
“We should get going. You’ve got some work to catch up on.”
Tate’s expression pains. It delights me I’m not the only one affected, and what I wouldn’t give to see how affected she is. To elevate this to another level, force her out of her comfort zone.
“Oh, okay. Sure. I didn’t realize it was getting so late.”
We stand at the same time, each of us holding the other’s stare. Tate breaks contact first, her eyes slipping to something on her shirt.
An awkward silence accompanies us until she tentatively meets my gaze again. “You want to bring some muffins home?”
“Will you judge me more for taking them or not?”
“It’s not my place to judge you at all, Walsh.”
She speaks in a hushed tone, my name falling from her mouth in a whisper. My eyes fall to her lips. They beckon to me, screaming, “Kiss me!”
If only I could.
I wonder what they’d taste like.
“I wonder the same.” Her words startle me, how she knew exactly what I was thinking unless I voiced the words. My eyes fly back to hers before falling to her lips now upturned into a smirk.
She’s stupefied me speechless, always a rare situation to find myself in. Especially with a beautiful woman like Tate.
“We probably shouldn’t though, you know?”
“Why the hell not?”
Oops.My filter has completely left the building.
But seriously. I want to, she wants to, why shouldn’t we do it?
I step closer to her. She retreats a step. I can practically hear the way her heart pounds in her chest, matched only by a rhythm of my own.
“Because we’re parents,” she offers.
“Pretty sure my parents still kiss. Don’t yours?”
“Well, yeah, when you put it like that.”
I take another step toward her. In response, she moves back half a step. “What else you got?”
“Because it’s been a while.”
“All the more reason. See what you’ve been missing all that while.”
“We shouldn’t, Keeley…”
That’s what breaks me.
Hearing her use my last name twists something inside, unleashing the parts of me kept locked away since I became a father.
Sure, I’ve slept with a handful of women since, but I wouldn’t initiate kissing. I never had an urge to kiss them. Because kissing always got me into trouble. Never the sex. Sex I can handle, keeping the emotions separate. But not kissing.
