“Do you think he’ll consider switching careers?” I whisper to Michael.
He laughs and covers his mouth when Sean shoots a deadly glare in our direction.
“He’d have a promising future.” Michael smirks.
This night has been pure insanity, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t enjoyed every minute of it.
Finally, Mark stops the routine with an awkward laugh and even more cringe-worthy “thanks for that”. There are a few pity claps from around the room, but it might as well have been a standing ovation to Chanel the way she smiles and skips to her seat.
Then Mark calls up Ron—again—and he is recognized by his coworkers for his dedication to the job. Michael stands and claps, and the rest of the room follows suit. I clap as well, but the admiration in my eyes is solely for Michael. He’s a good man. That much has been clear since I started messaging him three weeks ago. He truly cares about others, and the people around him admire him just as much.
We return to the meal, and I help myself to a less soggy plate of seconds while Sean, Trent, and Grant take it upon themselves to tell me every embarrassing story from Michael’s past.
I’m about to add in my own story when there’s a tickle on my thigh. Michael’s fingers slide off my leg and lace through mine. “Come with me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
I glance at his brothers, but no one is focused on us. I nod and stand up.
He leads me through the rest of the house and up the stairs. It’s dark and quiet until he opens a door to a room and flicks on a light. At first,all I notice is the bed.
My throat clogs. Whatever he thinks is going to happen is not going to happen because I—
“I made this,” Michael says, walking around the room and tapping each beautiful cherry wood item.
There’s an elaborate bed frame with matching nightstands, dressers, and an armoire. The wall closest to me is covered in shelves, each shelf containing figurines and mementos from little Michael’s life.
I pace the room, fully taking in his handiwork, and he tells me about each piece. The time he cut his hand really bad, and his arm, actually, I think every piece hurt him in some way. But each one has a story. He’s talented, but he’s also so much more than that. He’s passionate and driven. I’m impressed by him. “This must have taken forever.”
“I started my junior year of high school and finished justbefore I graduated.”
That’s a long time to stick with something. I don’t think my goldfish even lasted that long. He’s chosen the right pathway in life.
“I love it,” he says.
I walk to the shelves and run my fingers along the smooth wood. “You’re good at what you do. They are beautiful.”
His hand covers mine. “Trust me, nothing compares to you.”
Electricity glides along my skin, singeing everything in its wake and creating a magnetic charge that pulls me to him. I can’t fight it. I don’t want to fight it. I need to be closer to him. His other hand captures my hip, and he pulls me snug against him, until the space between us is nonexistent. All except for the inches between our lips.
I tip my chin, and his eyes search mine. Whatever he’s looking for, it’s his.
His lips brush mine, softer than a summer breeze. His lips are warm and smooth, sending the perfect amount of fire and fear through me. This couldend in disaster. But… what if it doesn’t? I open my lips to him, and he eagerly takes them captive, toying and teasing as the world spins.
He pushes me against the shelves and deepens the kiss.
Have I mentioned how much I adore his work?
I pull on his neck, and he makes a deep rumbling sound.
I kiss him like I’ve never kissed anyone before. Like I’m an unsolvable equation, and he’s the answer.
Maybe it’s just passion, or maybe it’s something far more frightening.
Maybe it’s love.
Chapter 20
Michael
