Kiss by Kiss (Riggins Brothers 3)

“Gotcha.”

“Oh, Aurora.” He tsks. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Tell me where we’re going?” I offer.

“Nope. Not after that little stunt. You’ll find out when we get there.”

“Are we there yet?” I ask. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. If I would have talked that way to Elijah, he would have lectured me for hours, told me how immature I was being.

“You’re going to be a handful, huh?” He laughs lightly.

I don’t respond, and he doesn’t expect me to. Instead, we travel to the other side of town in complete comfortable silence. I don’t feel the pressure to fill the silence, and for once, my mind isn’t worried about how I look, if what I chose to wear is good enough, if I’m good enough. I don’t know how he managed to pull it off, but Grant Riggins has got me out of my own head.

“Cooking class? We’re taking a cooking class?” I turn to look at him. I know my mouth is hanging open in shock, but this is not what I expected. Not at all.

“Yep.” He grins, and I can tell he’s proud of himself. “I know you love to bake, so I thought maybe you would enjoy this too. I, for one, can cook. Mom made sure we all could, but I’m no gourmet chef. We’re making homemade ravioli today.”

“Really?” I ask again.

“Good surprise?” he asks.

“The best! I’ve always wanted to do this.” I bounce in my seat a little from my excitement.

“Did you go to school to learn how to bake?” he inquires.

“No. My mom and my grandma taught me. Mom went to school for it, but I never did. I just picked it up. That’s part of why I was so nervous about opening my own shop. I don’t have an education.”

“Passion.”

“What?”

“You have the passion. Sometimes, especially in your case, that’s worth more than an education. I’ve tasted your treats, many of them, and let me tell you, there is nothing they could have taught you that you don’t already know. They’re delicious, Aurora.”

“Thank you.” My cheeks heat from his praise. “I can cook the basics, but baking… that’s my thing. So this—” I point through the front window. “—this is great. I’m so excited.” I look over at him, and he’s grinning, and I realize I’m acting like a fool. I immediately still. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

I nod, but I can’t make myself look at him. I’m sure the ridicule will start anytime now.

“Hey.” He reaches over and gently lifts my chin so my eyes are connected with his. “What just happened?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry for acting a fool.” I shake my head. I know better. I let my guard down.

“Aurora.” His voice is stern. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you know how relieved I am to know that you are excited about this? That we get to spend the day together doing something we’re both going to enjoy? That you’re sitting in this truck with me? Do you?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Fuck it,” he breathes, and then his lips are pressing against mine.

I’m frozen, not sure what to do. This is our first date, and he’s kissing me. The palm of his hand cradles my cheek, and his tongue traces my lips, and that’s all it takes for me to relax and open for him. He takes the opportunity to caress his tongue against mine, just a quick taste before he’s pulling away and resting his forehead against mine. We’re both breathing heavily, and my mind is racing. I’m not sure what just happened, but I’ll be the first to admit that it was too brief. I want his lips on mine again. And again. And again.

“I’ve been dying to do that since the moment I first laid eyes on you.” He pulls back, and both of his hands rest on my face. “I don’t know what the sorry was about, but I want your excitement. I want your happiness. Fuck me, but I want your sadness too. I can’t explain it, and I don’t want to. All I know is that you’re all that I think about. I know that seeing you light up when we pulled into the parking lot has my heart expanding in my chest. Don’t ever apologize to me for being happy or sad or mad. Fuck, I don’t care what you’re feeling. I want you to give it to me. All of it.” His lips press to my forehead, just a quick peck before he’s dropping his hands and pulling away. “Now, let’s go make some lunch.” He gives me a cheeky grin before removing the keys from the ignition and racing around the SUV to open my door.

I have a brief few moments to process his words.

He’s not mad.

He’s not Elijah. I know that, but after years of verbal abuse and certain expectations, it’s hard to break old habits. When my door opens, the cold January air hits me. “Thank you, Grant. For today, for what you said. Just… thank you.” I feel like I should say more, but the emotions clogging my throat, the past memories, and my current situation are almost too much to handle.