Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

I squeezed his shoulder where I held him.

“And then one night, after dinner, Mom was in the kitchen cleaning up, and she had these big tears in her eyes that she was trying so hard not to let fall. My brothers and I sat at that table feeling helpless and run down. It was the first time I think we’d ever really felt off-kilter as a family.”

I nodded in understanding.

“And then, Logan got up from his chair, went into the living room, and put on this song.” He smiled. “I’ll never forget the way Mom froze in the kitchen, her eyes widening at the sound of it. And Logan went in there and reached for her hand, and took her back to the living room, and he danced with her.”

Tears welled in my own eyes, and I rolled my lips together to keep them from falling.

“And I swear, it was that dance that brought us back together as a family,” Jordan said, his voice softening to a whisper. “Every time we have family dinner at her house now, we take turns dancing with her after. And it’s like Dad is still alive, like he’s there with us, like he was the one who pulled us all together that night, as if to remind us that we always have each other, and he’s never really gone. And you know what?” He chuckled. “This song never gets old.”

My heart broke at the same time it surged with emotion. I didn’t know how to react to Jordan opening up to me. I didn’t know how to feel with his hand on my waist, with his other hand holding mine over his chest, with his stormy eyes searching mine as the music played between us.

But I leaned into him.

I leaned into his life, into his story, into everything and every person who made him who he was today. I leaned my body into his, leaned my heart into this soft man with the hardened edges. And when we both stopped swaying, when the music seemed to grow so loud it permeated our skin, when his fingers trailed their way up my ribs, over my arm, and framed my chin before tilting it up toward him, I leaned up on my toes.

His exhale was shaky when it touched my lips, but then my eyes closed, and his mouth found mine, and my living room exploded into a universe of stars.

The kiss was timid at first, our lips barely touching, sticking together in a hesitant embrace before we pulled away again. It was like we were each testing the other, giving them the chance to back out. My heart tripled its pace in my chest when our eyes met, and then, he kissed me again.

This time, his mouth was harder when it found mine, and more sure, his arms wrapping around me as he pulled me into him and kissed me like he was always destined to do so.

We both inhaled — the kiss, the night, each other — and his hands framed my face, holding me to him as if he was afraid I wasn’t real, that I’d fade in an instant if he didn’t hold onto me for dear life. He kissed me long and tender, and yet feverishly, too. We were lips and breaths and moans and then our mouths opened at the same time, and his tongue found mine, and an electrifying heat I hadn’t felt in years zipped violently from where we touched through every nerve in my body, ending at one point of contact between my legs.

It was that rush of heat that kicked my brain into gear, and I realized with freezing cold awareness what I was doing.

I was kissing Jordan Becker.

I was kissing Jordan Becker — my boss.

I was kissing someone.

Period.

I broke away as if his kiss was a knife in the gut rather than the sweetest ecstasy. Before he could even frown, I was already out of his grasp, backing away with my hands over my mouth, eyes wide.

When he registered what he was seeing, his eyes went wide, too.

“Shit,” he muttered, holding up his hands and taking a step toward me. I backed away just as much. “Sydney, I’m sorry. I—”

“It’s late,” I interrupted, turning away from him and bolting toward my dining room table as I cleared my throat. I immediately picked up our glasses, dumping what was left inside them into my sink and tossing the garnishes in the trash. I kept my eyes on my hands as I washed the glasses, as if I couldn’t have tossed them into the dishwasher, instead.

“Sydney,” Jordan tried from behind me.

“Thank you for today,” I said, heart racing, mind blurring. I didn’t know why it was happening, and I hated it, but in that moment?

All I thought of was Randy.