“Rip, you don’t have to do that. You already took care of me and let me stay here last night.”
“Neither of those things were a hardship, Kenna.” His eyes are soft as he waits for my answer.
Kenna. He’s the only person who calls me that. Everyone else uses my full name or calls me Mac. Rip is the only one, and I’ll admit being here with him, hearing the name only he calls me rolling off his lips, is affecting me more than it should. I’ve really missed him.
“You sure?”
“Spending more time with you? Yes, beautiful, I’m sure.” His chocolate eyes are watching me intently, waiting for my reply.
“Depends. What are you making for breakfast?” I ignore the fact he called me beautiful. That’s new as well. This softer side of Rip is not something I’m used to. He’s always been nice to me, but this… this is an all-new level.
“Anything you want,” he counters.
I pretend to be thinking about what I want when I already know what sounds good. “Pancakes and bacon. Extra crispy.”
“Deal.” He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “Go shower. I’ll send Laramie in with some clothes.”
“What’s she going to think? I mean, I slept in your bed. Now I’m showering in your bathroom, and you’re making me breakfast.” I know Laramie isn’t going to say a word, except maybe encourage me to go for it. She knows I used to think the sun rose and set with her brother. She’s always had this theory that Rip and I would live happily ever after, and we could be sisters. At least she used to.
Rip throws the covers off and climbs out of bed. I watch as he stretches, his muscles rippling, giving all new meaning to his name. It’s fitting. I wonder if that even crossed his parents’ minds when they were naming him.
I watch as he moves around the bed and tugs the covers off me as well. He offers me his hand to help me stand. Once I’m steady on my feet, he pulls me into his arms in a hug that rivals all hugs. I can feel his morning wood pressing into my belly, and I swallow hard. He’s not hiding it, and I can’t help but wonder is it more than just the “morning,” or is that rocket in his pocket for me?
“What do you think, Kenna? You’re the only one I’m worried about,” he says, pulling out of the hug, keeping his hands resting on my hips.
“What is this, Rip? What’s going on here?”
He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “This is us, Kenna.” His lips find their way to mine, and morning breath be damned, he kisses me like I’m his. “Now. Go get in the shower. I’ll send Laramie. Be thinking about what you want to do today.” He taps my hip and releases me.
I stay rooted to my spot as I watch him walk out of his room. Part of me wants to call Laramie and give her a heads-up. I know she and Colby are in one of the guest rooms. The other part of me just needs time to process this. I don’t know what’s going on. Rip has never acted this way with me before. Not that I’m complaining. I’ll take his attention, his hugs, and his kisses any day of the week. Then again, I remember when Laramie called me last night, and I told her I was in Rip’s room watching a movie. I believe her exact words were “Finally” before she hung up the phone.
“Knock knock.” I hear Laramie say before she pushes the bedroom door open. I’m still standing in the same spot, trying to process the last twenty-four hours. My best friend’s grin is huge as she wags her eyebrows. “The man of the house requested some clothes for his lady friend,” she says in an exaggerated Southern drawl.
“Stop,” I say, spluttering with laughter.
“What’s with this”—she waves her hand in the air around me—“statue look?”
“Nothing. Just needed some clothes to take a shower.”
“These?” She holds up a stack of clothes.
“Thank you.” I reach for them, but she pulls them away.
“First, let’s set some ground rules.”
“What kind of ground rules?” I wasn’t expecting rules from her. “Never mind, I should just go home to shower and change.”
“Oh, no, you don’t, sister. You’re staying.” She grins wickedly, and I brace myself for what she says next. “We have one rule and one rule only.”
My hands settle on my hips, and I mock glare at her. “Let’s hear it.”
“All future conversations regarding you and my brother, we shall refer to him as Hans. When it’s not directly related to what happened in this room last night, he can be Rip.”
“What?” I ask, holding in my laughter.
“I should have prefaced this with I love that you spent the night in his room, and I need all the details. But… he’s my brother, and eww, I don’t want to hear about his moves, so when you talk about your sexy times, he shall be referred to as Hans.”
“You’re crazy.” I shake my head.
“You love me,” she sings, dropping to the bed with a bounce. “Wait, maybe I shouldn’t be sitting here.” She scrunches up her nose.
“Stop. Nothing happened.”
“You mean to tell me you had my brother all to yourself in his bed, in his clothes”—she points to the shirt I’m wearing—“and nothing happened?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
“Mac,” she exhales. “I was kidding about the Hans thing. You know that, right? You can talk to me.”
“Nothing happened. Well, I mean, I woke up with his arms around me, and his, you know, pressed against my ass, but that’s it. We might have kissed a few times,” I confess. “Oh, and he hugged me before he went downstairs to make me breakfast.”
“He didn’t try anything?”
“Nope.” I’m not the least bit shocked. Rip has never been a player. He’s always respected the women he’s dated. Maybe he changed while I was away at school, but something tells me he didn’t. That’s just not who he is.
“Huh.”
“Huh? What do you mean, huh?”
“I just… thought that he would, that’s all. He’s always asking about you and just thought there might be something there. I expected more than a few kisses and a hug.”
“He asks about me?”
She nods. “Yeah, pretty frequently. I thought maybe he was finally pulling his head out of his ass and claiming you as his.”
I don’t know why I’m fighting this attraction. I guess I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. It always does. “We both know that’s not going to happen.” I’m not sure what’s going on between us, but it feels too good to be true. I don’t want to get my hopes up.
“I guess we’ll see.”
I can tell she’s not convinced that’s not what’s happening. However, I was here in the moment, and a hug and some tonsil hockey and words spoken in the moment isn’t exactly what futures are made of. Even him dropping the word beautiful isn’t enough to justify what she thinks might be happening.
“These should work.” She points to the clothes on the bed. “What are you doing today that you needed to shower here?”
“I— Nothing that I know of. He did mention hanging out. He just told me he could get me some of your clothes that you keep here and that he was going down to start breakfast.”