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“Okay, uh, thank you.” She shuffles her feet.
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, what’s going on? If you want to share, of course.”
With the way her eyes are rimmed with red, something I missed when she first walked in, it looks like she’s had a hell of a morning.
“Just … uh … I met with the lawyer who is handling my mom’s will. And let’s say, she didn’t leave things in the best condition. I thought this would be a short trip, but, per usual, my mother has royally fucked me over. It would be funny if it weren’t so frustrating.”
Her sadness is palpable, and I hate that her mother put her in this position. I want to pry further, but I know she probably won’t give me many details.
“I’m really sorry about that. Whatever happened seems unfair. You don’t deserve it, but I guess you already know and have heard that many times. Is there any way I can help?”
Again, I know she probably won’t agree to it, but there is an urge inside me to make all her problems go away.
“No. But thanks for listening.” She gives me a small smile, but I can see the tears shining in her eyes.
“You know what we need?” I move to the secret cabinet that Nonna has taken residence over.
No one else, not even Patrick, knows about this hiding spot, or else we’d be fresh out of cookies constantly. My brother has a sweet tooth, especially when he’s working late.
“Are those … cookies?” She huffs out a laugh.
“Don’t tell anyone about this secret spot, it’s between Nonna and me. She makes me my favorite kinds and stashes them here. Yesterday, she made a batch of red velvet with white chocolate chips, and if that can’t lift your mood, I don’t know what will.”
I grab a plate from the shelf above us, dish out four cookies onto it, and then go to my big industrial fridge for the fresh cow’s milk delivered from one of our partner farms today.
“Honestly, I can’t disagree with that. These look good enough to cure any bad mood.” Those big hazel eyes have an expression close to admiration in them.
As if I’m her hero at this moment, and I want to fucking puff my chest out. All for just getting her some cookies, but hey, I’ll take praise anywhere I can get it.
At the exact moment I reach for a cookie, so does August, and our hands bump. And stay put. She doesn’t pull hers away, and neither do I. Boldly, because this woman just shared a very vulnerable part of herself, I inch my fingers up her hand. Tangle them in her digits. Squeeze our palms together.
My feet broach the barrier of space that exists between us, and I can’t seem to stop myself. In the place on earth I love most, my kitchen, I just so happened to get a morning alone with this gorgeous woman who keeps surprising me. Not going for it feels like the worst decision on earth.
Inch by small inch, I lower my head, my heart pumping blood so rapidly that I feel like I might pass out. Never in my life have I been so excited or anxious to kiss a woman as I am right now, and my entire body vibrates with the thought that I’m about to capture her lips.
August sucks in a breath, the sweet mint of her toothpaste tickling my nose. Her eyes flutter like she might close them, and my hand lifts to cup her cheek.
Except the moment my palm slides over the smooth cut of her jaw, she speaks.
“Evan, I …” August bites her lip, and I know she’s about to put an end to this.
My eyes flick to hers from where they were just homed in on her mouth, and I see indecision warring there.
“That’s … not a good idea.” She backs up a fraction, and our hands, connected on the plate, are suddenly no longer touching.
Blinking, pulling myself out of the haze of lust I was just trapped in, I back off. “Uh, sorry, I just …”
I don’t want to make some excuse. The truth is, I wanted to kiss her. I’ve wanted to kiss her for a while. Denying that will just sound stupid and would also be a lie.
“We’re roommates and involving anything sexual will just complicate things. I’ve already got a lot of stuff going on in my life, and I don’t really have the bandwidth for a relationship,” she explains, the air between us now stilted and awkward.
“I don’t really have the bandwidth for a relationship either,” I blurt because I’m not thinking and don’t know what else to say.
August flinches like I’ve offended her, and I realize in a split second that she thinks I just want to fuck her. A little wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. Maybe that’s all she thinks I’m capable of, and that stings, but is kind of true given my track record. Not that it would have been like that with her … or fuck. I’m all tangled up in my head, jumping to conclusions, and I can’t voice any of it to her.
“Right. So we’re both in agreement.” She turns, her body stiff with tension, and walks for the door. “Um, thanks for listening. And the cookies.”
“You didn’t even eat one,” I say, but she’s already out the door, the kitchen once again empty save for me.
