“This is me showing you that I’m alive.” He finally looks at me.
He studies me for a moment, his dark eyes dancing over my face, before he takes a step closer. He reaches a hand up to myface and places a finger against my cheek. I’m too confused to move, not sure what he’s doing.
“You missed a spot,” he tells me, his voice growing husky as he rubs his thumb against the sensitive skin next to my lips. There’s an electric current in the air as he removes his hand to reveal flakes of flour and dough on his thumb.
“Luke—”
“I’m sorry I didn't respond. I needed some time alone. I’m better this morning, I promise.”
My brows furrow together. “That isn’t a good enough excuse. My mind starts spiraling when you don’t check in. I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking what if?—”
He reaches out and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight. They feel like anchors keeping me steady in the midst of this worrisome-storm building inside of me. He smells like warm cedarwood with a hint of spicy clove. It invades my senses, wrapping all around me like a comforting embrace.
I count silently.One. Two. Three. And then I release his hold on me. If I hug him for longer, it begins to feel intimate and not a quick embrace from a friend. I take a small step away, putting a little space between us, because long caresses lead to inappropriate thoughts, and those lead to feelings that I have to shut down as quickly as they come. Those feelingscan’thappen with him again.
“I’m sorry. I was being selfish and wrapped up in myself. I didn’t think about the worry it would cause you. I won’t do it again.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” And I mean it.
“Plus, I don’t think the town of Covewood could handle yourLiam Neesonskills.”
“Skills that make me a nightmare.” My eyes fix on the full curve of his lower lip as it lifts in a smirk. “So, you named our cat Buttercream?”
His dark brows lift as he asks, “Our cat?”
It’s my turn to smirk. “Don’t think I’m letting you offthe hook. We will share custody of him. He can stay here, and I will help take care of him, but you have to provide the food and things he will need, starting with bringing me a bag of that PrettyLitter stuff. I heard it works wonders for hiding the smell. And buy one of those things that cleans the litter box for me.”
“I didn’t think you’d be a high-maintenance cat owner.”
“I’m trying to win him over. Maybe if I provide the best for him, he won't murder me in my sleep.”
We share a laugh and look over at Buttercream. He’s sitting at the windowsill in my living room, making strange noises as his head whips back and forth, focused on what I assume is a bird outside. I make my way into the kitchen, grabbing two brown paper bags from my drawer, writing the names “Luke” and “Rick” on them with a pink Sharpie. I place a cranberry-orange muffin into each bag and hand them to Luke.
“Don’t eat this one,” I demand, pointing at Rick’s bag.
“The little rat,” Luke mutters under his breath. “I don’t like how close you two have gotten.”
I wave a hand in the air, dismissing his comment. “He’s like the fun uncle I’ve always needed.”
He snickers, opening his bag and taking a bite of his muffin before placing it back inside. His eyes light up. I’ve always loved watching people’s reactions to my food, especially since I pour so much of my heart into everything I bake. Like how I know that Elliott loves peaches, so I try to make sure I bake my peach scones each week for him. Or how Grayson enjoys my lemon tarts, and I make sure to bring her an extra during delivery day as a treat.
There’s always a little doubt that lives in the back of my mind that I’ll make something that’s disgusting and scares people away.
“These are good,” he mumbles while chewing the remainder of his bite.
“I’m glad you think so,” I say, reliefflooding through me.
“You’re the reason I have to go to the gym every day—sometimes twice,” he admits, a sheepish grin on his face.
I can agree that all those hours in the gym have been good to Luke, and I refuse to check out my best friend. It’s the reason why I had to stop going to the gym with him. It was…distracting. I couldn’t be ogling him, so I workout mostly from home or go to the gym mid-day when I know he won’t be there.
Luke looks down at his watch. “I better get going.”
“Make sure to check in with me today!” I shout as he makes his way toward my front door.
“I will!” he calls back over his shoulder as he grabs Buttercream and gives him a snuggle. “Be a good boy today, Buttercream. I can’t have you murdering your new mommy. I’d have to toss you into cat jail, and we both know we don’t want that.”
He sets the cat down, and I place a hand over my mouth to hide the stupid smile on my face. Luke looks up, giving me a crooked grin, one corner of his mouth hitching higher than the other, and I have to look away, because if I don’t, those old feelings will try to creep back in before I can stop them.
