Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

“That would be so amazing.” Avery offered Phoebe a grateful grin. “Thank you.”

Her aunt’s sharp gaze held on Avery’s a second too long. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Heat burst at the pit of her stomach and rushed her cheeks. Avery refocused on her rolls. “Sure. It’s just been a long day. I appreciate the help.”

“Then maybe you’ll like this.” Trace’s voice, suddenly so close again, kicked her heart into a double beat.

She looked up and found him coming toward her with . . . a cutting board? In fact, it was the biggest cutting board she’d ever seen. She checked Trace’s expression and found him avoiding her eyes. “What’s that?”

“More counter space.” He stepped between her and Phoebe and fitted the board over Phoebe’s sink, instantly adding six more square feet of countertop to the tight kitchen.

Avery’s mouth dropped open, and a space deep in her belly warmed, something that happened on a daily basis around Trace. “Oh, wow.”

His gaze met hers with more uncertainty than she’d ever seen. “I know I’m always kicking you out of your kitchen. Thought this might help when you have to work here.”

Her smile came straight from that warm place at her core. She spanned the multicolored wood he’d pieced together with both hands, recognizing the precious value of the counter space he’d just handed her. “Oh, Trace, it’s beautiful. It’s perfect.” Damn, the man was so thoughtful. She turned her gaze on him again. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do this. I know you don’t have time—”

“You have even less time,” he said. “So I’m glad it will help.”

He held her gaze beyond that extra second. Beyond that awkward moment. Beyond that point at which one or both of them should have looked away.

He held it right up until Phoebe said, “Sweetheart, you’ve been on your feet for eighteen hours.” Her aunt opened the pantry and pulled out a stack of specialty boxes for her cinnamon rolls. “Why don’t you go take a long, hot shower and turn in?”

Now all Avery could think about was taking a long hot shower with Trace. In split-second flashes, she saw his chiseled body drenched in clear rivulets, his perfect, droplet-covered lips sucking at hers the way they’d just sucked at her fingers . . .

“And on that note, I’ll let you all get on with your evening,” he said.

Evidently, the idea had the opposite effect on Trace. He turned and set that sexy swagger toward the door.

“Trace, wait.” She grabbed a bag from the fridge and another from the counter. “Sandwiches, salads, and a few cinnamon rolls. Figured you and George could use something in the fridge.”

She was rewarded with a soft, lopsided smile. “You’re a lifesaver. Thanks.”

Another extended moment of eye contact made Avery’s chest squeeze. Warmth and longing seeped through her body. God, she wished they were alone so they could just continue talking. So this awkwardness wasn’t so overwhelming. So they could have taken that whole erotic finger sucking to the next level.

As if he could read her thoughts, Trace broke their gaze. “See you tomorrow.”

He turned for the door, and by the time he’d offered a round of good-byes and exited the house, all the heat inside Avery had drained.

“Sweetheart.” Phoebe’s hand slid down Avery’s back. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

No. She was a mess. An emotional mess.

Avery nodded. “Yes. Fine.”

Yep, perfectly fine.

Great.

Living the dream.

“But, you’re right. I could use some good sleep. Are you sure you don’t mind frosting and boxing these?”

“Absolutely not.”

Avery leaned in and kissed Phoebe’s cheek. “Thank you.” She pulled back and blew a kiss to Delaney and Ethan. “Good night, lovebirds.”

Avery continued to pep-talk herself right into the shower. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. Life is good.”