Charlie’s been incredible all day, moving between the kitchen and the dessert table, making sure everything’s perfect. I’ve watched her from a distance, and she’s seamless. So natural, so at ease.
But what gets me is how she is with my teammates. She’s met most of them today, along with their families, and somehow she fits right in. Like she’s always belonged here, in my world. And in my arms and bed, if I get my way.
Every now and then, she’s caught me watching her, and those green eyes meet mine like they’re tuned just to me. Crashing right through the surface, through all the bullshit, and seeing right into the core of what’s real.
When I step into the kitchen, she’s at the counter carefully arranging a tower of desserts. Her hair’s fallen slightly from her clip to frame her face, and she’s humming softly to herself. It’s a simple thing, but watching her is a reminder of every reason I fell for her all those years ago.
I’m not even trying to be subtle as I lean against the doorframe. With her back to me, I unashamedly watch the way her body moves as she works. It’s intoxicating.
“Need a hand?”
She startles slightly, glancing over her shoulder, and when our eyes meet the oxygen leaves my lungs. Her smile’s warm, a little surprised.
“I’m good, thanks,” she says, turning back to her work. But I see her hands falter just for a second, her focus shifting as she decorates her tiny tower of cakes.
I push off the doorframe and step closer, hands in my pockets. I want to be near her. Need to be closer.
“You’re good with that thing,” I say, nodding toward the tower, trying to keep it casual.
“It’s called a croquembouche,” she says, her mouth tugging in a slightsmile.
“I’m not even going to try to pronounce that,” I chuckle, taking another step. “But it looks amazing.”
She shrugs, but there’s a quiet pride in her expression. “Years of practice.”
“It’s impressive, Charlie girl.”
She doesn’t look at me, just keeps focusing on the dessert. But I see the way her shoulders tense with her breath. I’m getting to her, and it feels damn good to know I have this effect.
“You’re supposed to be out there, schmoozing everyone,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Well, you looked like you might need a hand.”
“Ever the gentleman,” she retorts. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to hide back here.”
“Wouldn’t call this hiding. Just wanted to be wherever you are.” I take another step.
Her lips twitch, even as she tries to hold her composure. “Think you can just charm your way into my kitchen, Brooks?”
“Maybe.” I move closer still, gaze dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Though if I wanted to charm you, I’d start by telling you I’ve spent twelve years trying to hold onto the way you made me feel the last time I had you this close."
She lets out a small scoff. “You’re still a smooth talker, that part hasn’t changed.”
“Only with you.”
Her eyes dart to me briefly, and I see it. Hesitation, curiosity, a flicker of want. It's subtle, but it's there, and all I want to do is fan it. She sucks her plush lower lip between her teeth, glancing away, and that’s it. I’m gone.
Every good intention I’ve clung to—giving her space, not rushing things—shatters in an instant. Because fuck it. Fuck waiting. Fuck caution. I’ve spent twelve years wondering if this moment would ever come and now she's right here, standing in front of me like a goddamn miracle. I’m not wasting another second.
“Charlie.” I reach out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, letting my thumb drift along her cheekbone. Her skin is warm beneath mine, and her breath hitches just enough to wreck any resistance left in me.
She leans into my touch, eyes locked on mine, and it’s like this thing between us, this fire that’s been smoldering since we last saw each other, finally lights up.
Her eyes drop to my lips, and I feel my heartbeat trip. I move my thumb to trace her lower lip, feeling her breath tremble against my skin.
“Jake…” Her voice is barely a whisper, like she’s not sure if she should pull away.
“I’m right here,” I murmur. “If you want me to stop, tell me.”
