It Started With a Kiss (Insta-Spark)

My gaze flew to his amused, mischievous expression. He winked again, turned, and sauntered down the hall, laughing the entire time. He was only teasing me.

Cheeky, sexy man.

Unable to resist, I stepped in the hall. “Yes, I would!”

It was my turn to chuckle as his steps faltered.

Gotcha.

“Avery, dinner was awesome. You made too much, though.”

“I thought you could have some leftovers.”

“Great.” He bent over, kissing my cheek. “Thanks, Sprite.”

I giggled.

I giggled every damn time he called me Sprite—or teased me—or kissed my hand, cheek, or temple. I was like a schoolgirl, yet I couldn’t help myself.

Daniel sat back, taking a sip of wine. He had enjoyed his dinner thoroughly, eating two platefuls of spaghetti, plus salad, and a frightening amount of garlic bread.

“Did your mother teach you to cook?”

“No. My mom could cook, but it wasn’t her forte. My grandmother taught me. After my grandfather died, she came to live with us. My parents were worried about her being alone. I was about six when she moved in. She loved to cook and bake. It was how she showed her love for everyone.”

He smiled over the top of his glass, his eyes crinkling. “And how you show yours now?”

I nodded in agreement. “We’d spend hours in the kitchen. She’d be waiting when I got home from school, and I would do my homework and she would cook. When I finished, I got to help. It was my favorite thing to do—then and now.”

“Your mom worked, too?”

“She was a financial planner. She worked from home a lot. I loved to sit and listen to her talk about market trends, interest rates, and investments. I found it fascinating. I think that was where I got my love of numbers.”

“So you became an accountant.”

“Yes.”

“You were very close to your grandmother.”

I sighed, thinking about her and all we did together. “She was a force. I don’t think there was anything she couldn’t do. If she didn’t know how, she would teach herself. She was petite, a ball of energy, and always on the go. She had a kind word for everyone, and everyone who met her loved her.” I tapped my beauty mark on my cheek. “She had the same beauty mark, and she was blonde and fair-skinned. She used to call me her twin—except she was open and beautiful.”

Daniel frowned. “You are, too.”

I let his remark pass. I lifted my leg, the charms of my anklet twinkling. “This was hers. She wore it long before anklets were even popular. I never take it off.”

He reached down, fingering the silver, his touch warm on my skin. “It suits you.” He glanced up, meeting my gaze with a tender look. “You’re very sentimental.”

“I am.”

His grip on my ankle tightened. “I like that, Avery. That suits me.”

My gaze fell to my plate as my cheeks flushed.

I liked suiting Daniel.

Lucy was sleeping with Dex curled up in the same basket, watching over her. She was doing much better, and Daniel relaxed.

We cleared the table together and I made coffee, which I brought to the living room with the cupcakes.