An Unexpected Chance (Insta-Spark)

“Yes, it is,” he said firmly.

“I think you’re jumping the gun.”

He glanced at Mia and stepped closer, my hand still trapped on his chest, his scent drifting around us. “The gun has gone off, Amy. I’m going to lay it on the table tonight and apologize until you believe me. And then we’re going to move forward.”

I blinked. “I see.”

He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Finish here and come to me. I’ll be waiting.”

Then he called to Mia. “Come on, Sweet Pea. We have to go to the bakery and then head home and put the lasagna in the oven. Ms. McNeil is hungry.”

“Okay,” she agreed and hurried over.

“See you soon,” he said as he took her hand, and they walked out the door.

“Daddy.” I heard her say as they headed down the hall. “Were you holding her hand?”

“Yep,” he replied.

“Is that like kissing? A date thing?”

“Sort of.”

“Are you going to do that a lot?”

I leaned out the door to hear better. Simon glanced over his shoulder, spying me. He winked.

“Every chance I get.”

“Okay.”

They disappeared around the corner.

I leaned against the doorframe, suddenly breathless at the thought of being kissed by Simon again.

I shook my head. We were going to talk. Not kiss.

At least, that was what I told myself.

CHAPTER EIGHT

AMY

I felt nervous as I pulled up to the front of Simon’s house. I sat in the car admiring the pretty log cabin, taking in details I hadn’t seen the night he’d brought me here. The wraparound porch with a large swing set in the corner. The flagstone pathway leading to the front entrance. The beautiful copper lights on either side of the door that welcomed you. The rich patina of the logs and the cedar accents. The house had been built to take advantage of the view of the ocean from all angles. A garage was set off to one side, not interfering with the scenery. The grass was green and dark. It needed some flowers in the front, some pots on the porch—otherwise, it was my idea of the perfect house.

I slid from the car, lifting the box I had brought with me from the bakery. I knew Simon had bought bread, but since he liked dessert as much as I did, and I had a feeling Mia did as well, I decided to bring something else to add to the dinner. I had picked up one of Marie’s famous fudge brownie cakes. Thick, dense, and fudgy, it was addictive and one of my favorites. I was lucky she still had one in the display case when I arrived.

The front door opened, and Simon appeared on the porch. My breath caught at the sight of him. He had changed into a Henley and jeans. The shirt hugged his torso and arms, and his jeans molded to his legs. He had a tea towel tossed over his shoulder, and his hair was ruffled as if he’d run his hands through it a hundred times. He hurried down the steps to meet me, smiling and looking relieved.

“I didn’t think you’d show up.”

“I told Mia I would.” I handed him the box. “I brought dessert.”

He took the box and stepped closer. “Thank you.”

I was caught in his intense gaze. “You’re-you’re welcome,” I sputtered out.

He moved closer, the warmth of his body soaking into mine. “I’m sorry, Amy. I’m so sorry.” He lifted my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to my palm, then holding it to his cheek. “I have so much to say and so many apologies to make, but I need to start off with that.”

“Why?” I whispered, even though I knew we couldn’t get into it with the chance that Mia would appear at any moment.

“I panicked. I shut down. I acted like a complete asshole. I wanted to turn around and come to your place and explain, but I…” He shook his head. “I was an idiot.”

“Yes, you were.” Then I pressed my hand into his cheek, feeling the roughness of his whiskers on my skin. “But I understand.”

He smiled. “Of course you do. You understand so much more than I gave you credit for.”

“We have to talk.”

“I know. Once Mia goes to bed, we’ll talk, and I’ll tell you everything. You can decide if you forgive me, and we’ll figure it out.”

The words were out before I could stop them. “I do forgive you.”

He covered my hand with his. “Amy,” he breathed out.

“But we have to talk,” I repeated. “I can’t put myself out there and have you reject me again.”

He bent his head, pressing his mouth to mine. It was soft, gentle, and sweet. “I won’t,” he promised. “We’ll talk until I know you’re certain.” He kissed me again, this time his lips lingering.

Until a voice from the porch broke us apart. “Daddy! You kiss at the end of the date! I told you that!”