Please, let it be enough.
I returned the money to the bag and stowed it in its hiding place. My stomach growled, driving me to the foodstuffs. Bent over the supplies, I was debating my limited options when Karson knocked on the truck. “Hey.”
“Hi.” I blushed.
He held up two rolled tortillas, probably with peanut butter and banana inside. That was a staple breakfast around here. “Since you brought me dinner.”
“Thanks.”
He hopped into the truck, handing one of the rollups over, then we sat down and ate.
Meals here were without fanfare and took only moments. I wished there was more to do because by the time I’d chewed the last bite, I still didn’t know what to say.
“Where’s Aria?” he asked.
“Work. She left.” Probably while he’d been in the shower. The strands of his dark hair were damp and finger combed.
“She should have waited.”
“She’ll be fine.” I waved it off. “Why would your mom want anything to do with us?”
“Who knows?” He frowned. “But she’s fucking crazy, so . . .”
I waited for more, but he let that sentence hang, and with it my hopes that he’d tell me about his past. I’d confided in him. Would he ever trust me with his story?
“I need to head in and grab my paycheck. Cash it at the bank. Want to come?” he asked.
“Sure. But I’d better water Aria’s plants first.”
“’Kay.” He stood up. “I’ll help.”
Thirty minutes later, after working and most definitely not talking about the kiss, Karson and I were on the road to town.
“Want a coffee or something?” he asked. “My treat. I’m definitely getting one because my head goddamn hurts. Fucking beer.”
I giggled. “Should have stuck to two, like me.”
“How are you feeling?”
Confused. Happy. Anxious. Sad. Take your pick. “Fine. Better after my shower.”
“That’s good.”
And that was the end of our conversation about last night, apparently. The only sound between us was the smack of our shoes on the street and sidewalk. When we got to the nearest café, Karson led the way inside, going to the counter, where a display case flaunted baked goods.
“Two black coffees,” he ordered. “To go.”
The waitress nodded, quickly filled a pair of white paper cups and pressed on black plastic lids. Then we got out of there before the smell of sugar and butter and muffins and cookies became too tempting.
He groaned as we walked out the door. “God, those cookies smelled good. I almost swiped two. Proud of me for not stealing?”
“Very.” I nodded. “I want to learn how to bake one day. When I have a kitchen. I remember my mom baked a lot. Aria and I would help her in the kitchen by dumping ingredients into the bowl after she’d measure them out.”
“What’s your favorite type of cookie?” Karson sipped his coffee.
“Ginger molasses. Or pumpkin chocolate chip.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had those.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged. “My mom wasn’t much for baking. Or cooking. Or doing anything but drowning in a bottle of vodka.”
“Sorry.”
He waved it off and took another sip.
I took a drink, cringing at the bitter flavor. Coffee had never appealed. Maybe it would as I got older, but I’d still drink it because Karson had spent a dollar. And because it gave me something to do.
I was coming out of my skin here. How could he be so calm? So normal? Was this how he wanted to act? Like nothing had happened? Maybe pretend it was just nothing?
My insides clenched. He regretted it. That had to be the answer. He regretted the kiss. I was a mistake.
Ugh. I was blaming beer for this.
I bit my lip as we walked, determined not to cry. We made our way toward the car wash but when we passed a small park, Karson nodded for me to follow him across the grass toward a bench. “Let’s sit. Drink our coffee.”
The park was empty, probably because it was still early. In the afternoons, there were always mothers pushing kids on the swing set and watching as they zoomed down the slide.
Karson and I sat on the bench, a visible space between us. “Guess we should probably talk about last night.”
“Yeah?” I held my breath.
“I’m not going to apologize for kissing you.”
The air rushed from my lungs. “I wasn’t sure if you might, um . . . regret it, maybe?”
“What? Never. Do you?”
My heart skipped and I shook my head. “Never.”
“Good.” His shoulders relaxed and he lifted his cup to his lips.
“But . . .” The cup froze in midair. “Is this, like, a rebound thing?”
It had taken every ounce of courage I had to ask that question.
Karson shifted to face me as he set his coffee on the ground. Then he moved, closing the gap between us, until his thigh brushed mine. His arm went to the back of the bench. “No. Definitely not a rebound.”
“Are you sure? You and Londyn were together for a long time.”
“I’m sure. Londyn and I were better friends than we were a couple. It was over the day she left.” Karson raised his hand and his fingers sifted into my hair, brushing it away from my ear.
My breath hitched.
Then his mouth was there, hovering over mine. Karson brushed his lips across mine, teasing, and then he pressed in deep, his arms wrapping around my shoulders.
My cup of coffee fell out of my hand, landing on the grass beside our feet. I didn’t care. I didn’t think. Like last night, I just let Karson kiss me.
His tongue ran across my lower lip, and I opened so he could sweep inside. Karson pressed closer, the heat from his body soaking into mine. Our tongues tangled and twisted. Every breathless second was bliss and when he finally broke away, I was lost in the darkened green and gold swirls of his eyes.
Karson wanted me. Me.
“Why?” I hadn’t meant to voice my insecurity, but that damn word had slipped out.
“Why what?”
I closed my eyes and braced. “Are you kissing me because we only have two days left?”
“Clara, look at me.” His fingers tugged on a strand of hair that hung between us. He twirled it around his index finger as I lifted my lashes. “I’m kissing you, wishing I had kissed you two hundred and two days ago.”
I practically slid off the bench as I melted. If not for his arms still around me, I would have joined my coffee as a puddle in the grass. “Really?”
He leaned in and brushed his lips across mine, whispering, “Really.”
The next kiss was a lot like I’d remembered from last night. Fumbling hands. Wet lips. Tentative nips and licks as I learned more about what he liked. What I liked. His coffee was forgotten as we clung to each other, sitting on the park bench, kissing like we were the only people in the world. It was only when the shout of a child rang through the air that we broke apart.
My lips were raw and puffy again. Karson inched away, drawing in a few pained breaths. I ducked my chin to hide a smile because there was a noticeable bulge beneath his jeans.
“Need to go anywhere else?” Karson asked, finally standing from the bench.