Page 845 of One More Kiss

For a second there, I thought he’s vibrating with anger, but that changes when I see his lips edging up. He chuckles, shaking his head.

Soon, his chest muscle moves, torso shakes as his pitch deepens, and his head upturns.

He’s laughing. He’s laughing at me.

My face and neck and ears heat.

I’m sure I must look like a ripe tomato right now.

“You are cute!” He breathes, taking my hand in his. “Relax. We are good here.” He rubs his thumb on the back of my hand. “What’s your name?” His rough, lilting voice washes over me like a blanket of shadows.

Protecting.

Locking.

Holding me in his snare.

He cocks his brow, waiting to know my name.

“Oak Hennessy,” the words come out meek.

A V forms between his eyes. “That’s a very od—unique name.”

I snort like a street urchin. How ungentlemanly of me. “You can say it. Odd. My parents are weird, and they have given me and my siblings some really weird names.”

“Is that right?”

“Mm-hmm. I’m Oak, the eldest. Then comes Arak Hennessy, after him is Baiju, and the last is Rye.”

A grin widens, showing me all his straight white teeth. “I see all your names are related to alcohol somehow.”

“I know, right? My parents own a bar in San Francisco. I’m named Oak because they conceived me after they’d had a local whiskey from an oak barrel in Scotland where they met for the first time. My brothers have something similar to say.”

“Your folks sound like amazing people.”

My lips stretch and a lightness fills my chest. “They are the best. What about you?”

“Well, I don’t have any parents. I grew up in an orphanage. I live in Chicago, and I have a son. He’s two years old.”

“S-son?”

“Yeah. Fathered him through surrogacy. I’m not getting younger.”

Is he crazy? Not young? Him? I mean, look at him. He looks better than me.Better than any man I’ve been with in my whole adult life.I’m sure he’s packing muscles and carrying a six-pack behind his sports jacket.And the V. He has to have them.

My ass clenches at the image, and I suppress the moan wanting to spill out of my mouth.

Focus on something else!

Right. Correct.

“Who’s watching him?” I force the words and my brain into focusing.

“My deceased husband’s parents.”

That pulls the plug out of me. He was married?

Of course, he was. He’s older than me.

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