Page 31 of The Decadent Gift (The Gift 3)
But not only the sex. The conversation too. She’d let me in more easily than I’d thought, and I’d relished learning more about her—her past, her present, her goals.
I wanted more of that tonight.
And tomorrow too.
More Kate, before we had to shut this down.
This weekend was temporary—she had her work to focus on, and I had no interest in another Debbie situation—but there was no reason this weekend fling had to end today. Sunday night could become part of it too.
It all hinged on the veggies.
Kate arched a brow, smiling coyly at me. “You’re angling for another night?”
No reason to deny the truth. We had set the boundaries, we’d mapped the exit strategy, and while I was in this, I was damn well going to be in it all the way.
I nodded, owning it. “I am. I absolutely am.”
She moved a little closer, her eyes never straying from mine. “Then I hope the brussels sprouts are a ten.”
I wanted to pump a fist. To kiss the air. To shout in victory because she craved the same damn thing as me.
* * *
She mimed slam-dunking a basket as we finished the appetizer. “Ten,” she declared, and the sight of her like that—animated and vibrant—felt like a new detail about her, one I enjoyed knowing.
“Ten,” I said, seconding her.
That felt good too—being on the same page and acknowledging it.
Setting her fork down with gusto, she shook her head in amusement, smiling. “I guess that means you’ll have to take me out tomorrow night.”
I feigned annoyance, then snapped my fingers. “Damn it.”
We moved on to other food, chatting as we made our way through peppers and mushrooms, Kampachi and cucumbers, and a bottle of wine.
As Kate lifted her glass, she took a deep breath, as if preparing to ask something hard. “So, what’s your story, Mr. Hamilton? Why are you Captain Single?”
Ah. The necessary conversation. The one I’d suspected we’d have at some point, especially since she’d opened up to me last night. But I didn’t mind having it. Kate was easy to talk to—always had been.
“The truth is simple. One, my last girlfriend wanted to get serious far too quickly, and that’s made me a little wary of getting involved. And two, the woman I dated before her told me when she dumped me that I was already married to work.”
Kate winced. “Ouch. How did you feel about that?”
I scratched my jaw, flashing back to the breakup with Cassidy. I’d liked spending time with her, and had been starting to fall for her, but her parting comment had burned.
With good reason.
“Honestly, I felt pretty shitty at first,” I admitted with a sigh. “But I knew what my goal was—to help my parents with their retirement. My dad worked his ass off while I was growing up, and the least I can do is help him enjoy his retirement now.”
“That’s great that you do that for them,” Kate said, a softness in her voice that tugged at my heart. “I can see why it would bother you if someone you were involved with didn’t understand why it was important to you.”
“Exactly. My dad nearly died of a heart attack, and I have no doubt it was from working too damn hard. The least I can do is help him out.”
“Oh God,” she said, clasping a hand to her mouth, then letting go. “That’s so tough. I’m so sorry he went through that, but I’m glad he made it.” She reached out and set a hand on my arm, rubbing lightly.
I glanced down, and even though her hands had skimmed my chest last night, had roamed my body, this touch felt just as intimate as those had.
But for entirely different reasons.
Reasons I wasn’t so sure I understood.
“Thanks. Me too. Obviously. That’s just part of why I want to help them.” My jaw clenched as I thought of all the hard times my dad went through when I was younger, and how, even as a kid, I’d wanted to do whatever I could for him. “I hated watching him and Mom struggle. When I was in middle school, I vowed I’d do whatever I could to help them. But there wasn’t much I could do then.”
A focused listener, she never let her eyes stray from mine. “Of course not. You were just a kid worried about your father. But look at you—taking care of them now.” She gestured to me with a grin that felt new—one that seemed to come from deep within. “They must be proud of you.”
A warmth like sunshine spread in my chest. She understood why this mattered to me, why my choices were important. “I’m proud of them. They worked hard, they love hard, and they’re enjoying their retirement as they should. I’m lucky to have them, and I want to do right by them and my sister. She has this kick-ass eleven-year-old.” I went on, telling her all about Carson, our pinball passion, the basketball games, and his sarcastic but clever style.
