Craft (The Gibson Boys 2)

We get to the top step and he pulls his palm away and instantly I wish it were back where it was. I wish there were a mile of sidewalk left to my doorstep.

“In a weird way,” he says, “I’m glad I didn’t eat the pizza in the fridge tonight.”

“In a weird way, I’m glad I agreed to a date with Jonah.” The softness in his features makes me blush. “Thank you for saving the day. For giving me a ride home. For taking me to Nana’s. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

“Yeah, I didn’t. But I did.” His forehead creases, his eyes suddenly darkening. “I have a question.”

As he takes a step towards me, his palm gently caresses my cheek, and I hiccup a breath. My chest feels like I’ve already run a marathon. I can’t breathe, only watch his lips descend towards mine. “Yeah?”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gets closer, the scent of his cologne suddenly stronger. Muskier. Sexier.

My thighs clench together; my panties become pointless. As hot as every fantasy I’ve ever had about Lance Gibson was, it is nothing compared to this. Having him in front of me, looking at me like I’m it … I whimper.

“Can you change your type?” he asks, the gravel of his tone setting me on fire.

My brain screams at me to stop but my lips press together. Just as his mouth hovers over mine, the door behind us swings open.

“Oops,” Whitney winces, squeezing her eyes shut. “I didn’t see a thing. I’ll just, um, go back inside now.”

I’m going to kill her.

Lance’s forehead rests on mine as he chuckles. “Probably for the best, huh?”

“Definitely,” I say, breathlessly. If he can’t hear my heart, he must be deaf, because it’s pounding so loud it’s almost all I can hear.

Whitney is a cold bucket of water but not quite cold enough to put out the flames. If he tried to kiss me again with her watching, I’d let him. I have half a notion to raise up and do it myself, but it is really probably for the best.

“I just can’t believe you were going to let me,” he grins.

“Um, I can,” Whitney chimes in. “Damn, Mariah. I let you leave here with Jonah and you come back with that? Teach me your tricks, oh wise one.”

Lance’s chuckle turns into a full-bellied laugh. “I’m Lance. It’s nice to meet you.”

Whitney leans against the door, outright ignoring me. “It’s nicer on my end, I assure you. Should I shut the door and let you kiss her?” She looks at me and then right back to Lance. “I should. I really should. A friend would. But damn it if I don’t want to just look at you.”

“I’m gonna go,” Lance laughs. “See ya on Monday, Mariah.”

“Bye.”

My feet don’t move until he’s in the car. Then I kind of stumble in the house. Or maybe Whitney drags me. I’m not sure.

“You’re meeting him on Monday?” she gushes. “Where’s Jonah? What happened? Tell me everything.”

“No, I’m not meeting him on Monday. I …”

There are so many questions. The answers, though, aren’t as easy to find.

“Did you not look out the window?” I ask, throwing my hands up in the air. “Isn’t there some girl code that says you look out the window?”

“No,” she balks. “I mean, maybe. If I thought you were actually going to be kissing a guy, I would’ve been a little more careful. But it’s you. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t boring little Jonah to death.”

“Seriously? Have you ever talked to Jonah?”

She shrugs. “No. But he’s cute.”

“I almost unfriended you over him alone. And now you’ve ruined my kiss, I think we’re done. It’s a condition,” I snort and head down the hallway.

“I said I’m sorry.”

“I’m going to take a bath,” I tell her.

“Then I’ll sit on the floor by the tub because you are answering my questions!”

Ten

Mariah

Sixteen. I feel like a freaking sixteen-year-old girl. Specifically, like the day when I was sixteen and the captain of the basketball team told me I was beautiful. Of course, he never said it again and continued on with his girlfriend who just happened to be Chrissy’s best friend. Still, I relived that moment for years.

Lying in bed with my hair still in a weird bun from the bath, I can’t wipe the goofy grin on my face. My forehead still sings with the feeling of his against mine. My cheek feels warm from the remembered heat of his palm. My heart is so full from the memories of Grandma Betsy brought out by Lance’s Nana. What a wonderful and weird evening.

Lance is a lot of things. Some of them I didn’t realize until tonight. It never occurred to me that he could be sweet or that he would go out of his way for … me. My head scrambles, trying to process too much information too quickly. I close my eyes, but just see his face.