She rests her head against my chest, her arms tightening around my neck while I sing into her ear about remaining silent and allowing our hearts to do the talking while we dance.
By the end of the song, something’s shifted between us. I can’t quite put my finger on what exactly, but her gaze suddenly burns hotter and lingers a little longer. Every touch is slightly more intimate and purposeful.
All I know is it feels like I’m finally making my way out of the friend zone, and absolutely nothing could thrill me more.
The front door swings open before my fist has even met with the weathered wood to knock, revealing a freshly showered Wyatt. “Y’all made it!”
I greet him with a smile, allowing myself a quick second to catalog his appearance beginning with his still damp hair and piano key smile surrounded by a couple days-old scruff. Today’s tee is gray and fitted with a V-neck. He’s traded his usual worn denim for black and gray tapered Adidas track pants. His feet are bare, and ridiculously hot. Because of course they are. Why am I even surprised that the least flattering body part in existence is drool worthy on this man? He hit the genetics jackpot for sure. I mean, is one crooked toe too much to ask for?
“Barely,” Prissy complains, drawing me from my examination. She rolls her eyes at me in dramatic fashion before slipping past Wyatt, right into his house, like she owns the place.
That girl…
“Hey.” I shift my weight from foot to foot, trying to determine how embarrassed I should be by his demeanor. Acid rolls in my tummy, serving as a reminder of the potentially poor choices I might’ve made last night at the bar. I’m not sure whether it’s a blessing or a curse that I can’t seem to recall a huge portion of the evening before. Definitely blaming the extra Crown Kate put in my first drink. And my second. And third. “Sorry about last night,” I offer, erring on the side of caution. Judging by the hangover I’m suffering this morning, I’m sure I did something to warrant it. “I don’t get out much, and I guess I went a bit overboard on the alcohol.”
“Why are you apologizing?” He drops back, ushering me inside. “I had a blast.”
As I step around him and take a deep inhale to calm my nerves, I get a whiff of Irish Spring soap and coffee. Always coffee. My stomach begins to settle at the comforting aroma.
With a timid smile, I cross my arms over my chest as I take a stroll around his quaint kitchen, absorbing all the details, like the floral wallpaper that’s starting to peel at the corners and thick wood trim surrounding the doors and framing the bay window above the sink. “I think I did too…”
“You don’t remember?”
“Bits and pieces,” I admit. Flashes of riding home with my head hanging out the window of his truck fill me with mortification. Momma had to help me scrub the chunks from my hair when I stumbled in last night at a quarter past two. She was still making fun of me when she literally had to haul my ass out of bed this morning by my ankles. I fully anticipate her bringing it up for the rest of my life. “I kind of blacked out after the Electric Slide…until the ride home, that is.”
“Ouch.” He winces, covering a smile. “That was pretty brutal.”
“Yeah. If I had to forget anything, why couldn’t it have been that part?”
“It’s fine,” he assures me. “Happens to all of us at some point.”
“Prissy thinks I was just sick,” I mutter, foolishly believing she won’t be able to hear me from the living room.
“I ain’t stupid,” she says, her and the mutt both popping their heads through the doorway. “I know you got drunk.”
I stand there, slack-jawed, while she pauses to love on the dog, totally oblivious to her own rudeness. “Anyway, Paw said it was okay because you are a grown-ass woman and you had a designated driver, so I have to let it go.”
“Paw’s right. And you’d do well to stay out of adult conversation. And mind your mouth, please.”
She shrugs. “I heard my name. If you’re talkin’ ‘bout me, that makes it my business.”
“Hey Miss Priss,” Wyatt interrupts with a perfectly timed distraction. “Rufus has a basket of toys next to the fireplace. I’m sure he’d love for you to take him out back and play fetch.”
Thank you, I mouth when my little demonling takes his suggestion, hauling off at a sprint. “Still think I’m doing a great job?” I ask, echoing his sentiment from last night.
“I know it.” He pours us each a cup of coffee, adding two creams and two sugars to mine, just the way I like it. Wyatt motions for me to follow before setting them both on the table. “You look like you could use this.”
After pulling out my chair, he takes the one across from it. “Thanks.”
“That kid is confident…loved…free to express herself. Not to mention smart as a whip.”
The corners of my lips pull up in a smile. “You forgot willful, sassy…”
His grin vanishes. “Why do you do that?” he asks, running his pointer finger around the rim of his mug while staring at the black liquid like it holds the answer to his question.
“Why do I do what?”
“Keep trying to scare me off of her.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving me winded. “Do I?”
He nods, lifting his eyes to meet mine. “Constantly.”
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” My eyes well with tears. Being called out on my parenting is a soft spot. “It’s true what they say, you know? That when you hear something enough you start to believe it…”
“And what is it you’re hearing?”
I sigh, fighting the urge to let the blasted tears fall. “I let her get away with too much… That I should be treating her more like a child and less like a friend…” I clear my throat. “She spends too much time around death.”
“Who’s telling you these things?”
“Her school. Other parents. Sometimes they say they’re just concerned, other times they try to play it off as a joke.” I shrug, taking a sip from my mug. “I just had her so young, you know? The truth is, I think she’s perfect just the way she is, and I could never be with anyone who didn’t feel the same. The way you accept her, quirks and all… Well,” I sigh. “It just seems too good to be true.”
“You’re testing me?”
I consider his suggestion for a moment before answering with a nod. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Wyatt flops back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head. The movement causes his shirt to ride up, revealing a delectable sliver of abs and happy trail. “Well?”
“Well, what?” My face flushes. I can tell by his lopsided smirk that he knows exactly what I’ve gotten distracted by.
“How am I doing?”
“To be determined.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough.” After a brief silence, he slaps both hands down on the table and rises to his feet. “You ready?”
“For?”
“To tour your future residence, of course.”
I choke on my drink. “Your confidence has gotten out of control.”