Best Served Cold

“Tables?” Chase asked, looking up at me then over at the table.

I went over and ran my hand over the top. “New tables for the store.”

“You can’t buy them like a normal person?”

I pursed my lips. “You’re getting on my nerves now.”

He grinned.

Grandpa shook his head. “I’m going to check on the whiny ones. I’ll be back in a few.” He left, kicking his shoes off at the door that led into the house.

Chase stood up and walked over. “They’re nice. You’re painting them?”

I nodded and opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

“Ah. Secret?” He quirked his lips to the side and looked at me knowingly.

“Not really.” I paused. “They’re going to be cones.”

“Cones?”

“Ice cream cones. You know, those weird wafer things you serve ice cream in?”

“Ha. Funny.” He poked me. “So you’re painting them to look like cones?”

I nodded and ran my hand over the top. “The top of the table is going to be the ice cream, and they’re going to be all different colors. Then I’m going to paint the ice cream down the side as if it’s melting.”

Chase bobbed his head up and down. “They’re going to look awesome. Very you.”

I smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “I can’t take credit for it. It goes to Pinterest.”

He laughed and wrapped one arm around my shoulders, hugging me against his side. His body was solid, and I leaned into him, turning my body into his a little.

His laughter petered out until we were standing in complete silence. He dipped his head to mine, making my heart stutter with the thought he was going to kiss me again.

I wanted him to.

I didn’t know why, but I did. I wanted him to kiss me again.

A throat cleared from behind us and we jumped apart. Grandpa was standing in the doorway, a foot in one of his shoes, with an eyebrow raised and his lips curving to the side.

I coughed. “We were just—the tables. Explaining it. To Chase.”

Grandpa took his foot back out of the shoe and went back into the house.

“Smooth,” Chase laughed, nudging me.

“Shut up.” I nudged him back and stepped away, hiding my own laugh. “Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome. Thank you for not wishing I’d choke on my food.”

I laughed, wrapping my arms around my waist. “You’re welcome. Thank you for not choking. I appreciate it.”

He rubbed his hand over his chin, smiling. Slowly, he reached out and pushed my hair behind my ear, letting his fingertips trail down the curve of my jaw until they fell away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rae.”

My skin tingled where he’d just touched me. “See you tomorrow.” I smiled and watched him leave, going out the same door we’d come in.

I dipped my head to look at the floor, still smiling.

Damn it.

I was in trouble.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – RAELYNN

I wielded the drill like a weapon.

I had no idea what I was doing with this thing, but I was determined to figure it out. I had no idea what I’d do if I needed to be bailed out again by Chase.

I’d never live it down, I knew that much. First the wallpaper stripping, then the painting, and finally, last night’s adventures in the kitchen where I’d smashed two sundae glasses.

If I needed him a fourth time…

Well, I didn’t know if I could cope with that. Not just because it would prove that I was wholly incompetent at any kind of DIY work, but because it’d mean being with him again.

No matter how much I thought I hated him, an almost sleepless night of flip-flopping from my belly to my back and from my left side to my right side had proven it wrong.

I didn’t hate him. I hated the thought of what he’d done, and while there was still some anger from his admission that he did steal my ideas, I couldn’t be angry about the why.

I got it. I understood. It was stupid, and he was stupid, but I got it.

And no matter what I did, my body reacted to him. Like a moth to a damn flame, I couldn’t help it. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to curl myself into his side and just stay there.

I was screwed. I didn’t know if it was just the feeling of having him in my life again or if the way I was feeling was something deeper.

Despite my protests, neither of us had ever had closure with the end of our relationship. I hated to admit it, but Sophie had been right when she’d said I’d never given myself any time to get over Chase.

I hadn’t.

I’d gone right into hating him before I’d been able to mourn the end of the relationship. Before I’d been able to face up to what I’d done to him and how I’d hurt him. I’d never allowed myself to think about the fact I’d broken up with him—I’d never been able to see if there was a way to change that.