Page 178 of The Path to Loving Him
“That would be great,” I answer. “Count me in.”
“Wonderful.” Hattie smiles. “See you next Friday.”
It didn’t occur to me until I walked over to Ryland’s house that maybe I should have talked to him about hanging out with his sister before accepting the invitation. I’m trying to take this slow for him, and I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. Maybe he’s not comfortable with me hanging out with his sisters. Not yet at least.
I walk up the steps to his back door and consider knocking for a moment, but then realize that might be weird since I used to just walk in, so I open the door myself and walk into his quiet house. My eyes immediately fall to the table in the kitchen where he usually waits, and when I don’t find him there, I glance around the kitchen but come up short.
Confused, I shut the door behind me, cookie bag in hand, and I peek around to the living room where I find him walking down the stairs.
The moment he sees me, he pauses and then blows out a heavy breath. “Jesus fuck,” he whispers, making his way all the way down. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Sorry.” I chuckle. “Did I startle you?”
“Yeah, you did,” he says walking up to me and wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me into him and tilting my head back so he can mold our lips together.
And it’s so delicious.
God, it’s been a day and a half, yet it feels like it’s been a week since I’ve kissed him. Going undetected at school and practice was a challenge to say the least.
When he pulls away, he presses his forehead to mine and whispers, “Fuck, I missed these lips.”
Butterflies erupt in my stomach because I’m not sure anyone has ever really said anything like that to me. Not even in my happiest stages of a relationship.
“Go sit down on the couch while I get us drinks. Iced tea okay?”
“That would be perfect,” I say as I go to the couch and set the cookies on the coffee table. Since I’m assuming Mac is just falling asleep, I don’t say anything to him and just wait. Thankfully he doesn’t take very long and saunters over, looking so freaking fine in a simple Almond Bay baseball T-shirt and athletic shorts. He doesn’t have to do much, just shorts and a T-shirt and he has me practically drooling.
He sits beside me, places our drinks on the coffee table, and then tugs on my hand. I move over his lap to lean my back against a pillow propped up against the couch arm and drape my legs over his.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Okay,” I say as his hand falls to my thigh. “Better now.”
“Same.” He smiles at me.
I smile back.
And God, I feel like a teenager, getting to hang out with my crush, attempting to be quiet so his parents don’t hear us. But instead of parents, it’s his niece.
“What did you and Mac do tonight?”
“Well, she was in the mood for quiche.”
“Oh really? I wouldn’t expect a four-year-old to know what quiche is.”
“She learned about it from a book she read in school. Apparently, some mouse is really good at making quiche. I don’t know, but she was determined to have one tonight. And I thoughthow hard could it beto make?”
I wince. “How did it go?”
“Let’s just say I almost ruined the oven by overfilling the pie crust. Thankfully I was able to save the egg from splashing into the scalding oven. The crust burnt, and I feel like we added too much spinach, but I was nervous there wasn’t enough, so I added extra, but then it felt like we were just chewing through spinach. You could imagine how a four-year-old did with that.”
“I’m assuming not well.”
“Yeah, not well at all. When I asked her what she thought, she gave me a solid thumbs down and said she never wanted quiche again. So I ruined that for her.”
I chuckle. “I bet it wasn’t that bad.”
“When you came in, I wasn’t tucking Mac in bed. I was flossing because I got spinach stuck everywhere.”
