He raises his glass in my direction. “To being the baby of the family and blaming everything on the older siblings.”
“Now that I will cheers to for sure.” We clink our glasses together. As I bring the wineglass down, I briefly look up, locking eyes with Kyler. My cheeks heat at the attention and the look in his eyes. I swallow deep. I realize our thighs are again brushing against each other. Our eyes stay locked, and my breath quickens. What is happening here?
A loud noise of a chair scraping the floor interrupts us, indicating his sisters have returned, and we both turn away from each other.
Kate smirks as she takes a sip of her drink. “Did we miss anything interesting?”
K yler walks into the kitchen to find me gathering the ingredients I need to make cinnamon rolls to take to my parents’ house tomorrow. I typically wouldn’t make them the night before, but since we are leaving early, I wanted to get them done now instead of waking up even earlier in the morning. Part of me wants to fake sick and back out, but I know I owe it to my parents after all this time to visit. I’ve been here two months already, and I know they know that I’m here thanks to my brother’s big mouth.
I am quite shocked they haven’t stopped by yet, but they are probably just as worried as Zach that I will get spooked and take off again. I’m not sure who I am more nervous to see, my parents or the Hankses. It has been great rekindling my friendship with Haylee again these past few weeks, but I have kept away long enough. Talking with Haylee has helped a little, but I need to work on getting myself back to “me” and stop shutting everyone out. Of course, it’s a lot easier said than done.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, so I know that he is staring at me without even turning around. That is another friendship I am oddly happy about its progression. I didn’t really want to feel like the third wheel around Zach and Haylee, so I have declined most of their offers of going out with them some nights.
What started out as a random occurrence has turned into a regular thing of watching movies over the past month on the couch with Kyler. We couldn’t have more opposite tastes in movies, but we came to a compromise and alternate who gets to pick what we watch. That way we both are equal to suffering through the other’s choices, although, I will admit to myself but not to him that I have enjoyed almost all the movies he has picked—all except No Country for Old Men because who the hell in their right mind would enjoy that movie. I have enjoyed getting to know him. He’s a good fit for my brother; I can see why they became such good friends quickly.
“Can I help you make whatever you’re going to make?” Kyler asks from behind me where he is sitting at the island.
“Ummm…I guess. Sure,” I say, turning around and arching my eyebrow at him. “You don’t have anything better to do on a Saturday night? I find that hard to believe.”
With a smug smirk on his face, he plops his chin on top of his fists. “Nope, I’m all yours.”
A weird feeling instantly comes over me. Are we still talking about baking? I would say yes if it wasn’t for the way he was looking at me. It was as if he’s looking right through me. We shared a similar look the other night at dinner with his sisters. If they had not interrupted us, would he have kissed me? Did I want him to? I’m not sure whether I should grab my stuff and run away, or maybe even worse, run toward him. Who the hell is this man who keeps creeping into my world one moment at a time?
I’m so lost in my internal argument that I don’t realize Kyler has since moved from his spot at the island to right behind me. “Earth to Dani!” I jump back at his proximity and end up backing right into him, my back to his front. He places his hands on my shoulders to steady me.
“Whoa there, killer, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says with a laugh. “I feel like I’m always scaring you.” If only he knew it wasn’t just physically that he scared me, but the feelings that I start to feel at times when I am around him scare me more. I’ve never felt this way about anyone that wasn’t Emmett and am charting new territory. “I was just talking to you about what you were going to make, and you were lost in your own world, so I just wanted to bring you back to me.”
“Oh sorry, I was…” Trying to come up with any excuse that’s not I was thinking about you and things I wouldn’t mind you doing to me, but instead I come up with “I was going over all the ingredients in my head to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.”
He nods, whether or not he buys my reasoning. He steps back so that I can take the ingredients to the island.
“So, you really want to help me?” I ask him, still feeling as though he’s just messing with me.
“Well, yeah, I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” he responds with a crooked smile. I can sense that Kyler is a little nervous as he takes in all the ingredients I have set out. I feel as though he may back out—in fact I am kind of hoping for it. I’m not sure I can handle him this close to me at the moment.
With a deep breath, he turns to me. “Okay, make me your bitch. Let’s do this!”
I laugh. Well, here goes nothing. “Okay, well, first of all, we are going to make cinnamon rolls to take tomorrow to my parents’ house.”
“You’re finally going?”
“I’m finally going. I can’t keep putting it off.”
“That’s good. I’m proud of you. To be honest, I’m surprised your mom hasn’t knocked down the door yet.”
“I know.” I snicker. “That is more her style. Do you maybe want to come with us?”
The expression on his face masks my own shock. Did I seriously just ask him that? I pull my lip between my teeth while I nervously await his answer. He must be able to sense my hesitation, because he places his hand on my wrist, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intru
de on this family moment.” He hasn’t removed his hand from my wrist and is now rubbing circles along my skin with his thumb.
“No, I would like that. I could use all the support I can get.” I half smile. “And you can let everyone know you made these.”
He lets out a hearty laugh and removes his hand, and I miss his touch. “Yeah, well, only if they’re good. If they taste like shit, then they’re all on you, sweetheart.”
I tense at his endearment, but for some odd reason it doesn’t bother me. In fact, it causes a weird feeling in my stomach, almost like butterflies. I reach for my apron, a Christmas present that Emmett had given me one year that reads “Lick my Frosting.” Needless to say I was so mortified opening that in front of our families knowing the double meaning. He went an entire week without getting any—okay, so really just three days, but it felt like a week.