Maybe Matt's Miracle (The Reed Brothers 4)

I don’t know what to do with myself all alone with Matt, so I start to load the dishwasher with today’s dishes. Matt picks up plates and cups from the table and helps me.

“Careful or I’ll get used to having you around,” I warn playfully.

He looks directly into my eyes. “Good. That’s what I’m going for.”

My breath hitches, and I have to turn away so that I’m not facing him. I lay my hands flat on the counter and take a breath. But then I feel Matt’s length behind me. His palms lie flat on the counter beside mine, his arms bracketing my body. I can feel him from the top of my head to the heels of my feet, he’s that close.

“You in love with me yet?” he whispers quietly.

A grin steals across my face, and I’m so glad he can’t see it. “Nope,” I say past the lump in my throat.

He brushes the hair from the back of my neck and presses his lips there. I’m suddenly glad he’s behind me because my knees might just give out. His lips are soft and warm, but insistent. He kisses the side of my neck, and I tilt my head because it feels so damn good.

“Someday, you’re going to want to marry me,” he murmurs.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.” My voice quavers only a little. I’m quite proud of that.

“Mmm hmm,” he murmurs, and his lips gently slide up the side of my neck.

Suddenly there’s a noise behind us, and Matt jumps back. He’s across the room in nothing more than a second. I turn around and look up to find Seth standing in the doorway. He looks from me to Matt and back to me over and over. Finally, he snorts, and says, “Dude, you should just kiss her already. God.” He walks to the fridge and gets a bottle of water, and then he leaves the room.

Matt grins. “I should probably go.”

“Don’t,” I say quickly. I squeeze my eyes shut. When I open them, he’s looking at me intently. “I mean, if you need to go, you can. But if you want to stay for a bit…”

“I want to stay,” he says quickly.

“You want a beer?” I ask. I think there are still a few in the fridge.

“No,” he says. “Thanks, though.”

I pour myself a glass of wine so I have something to do with my hands.

He gets himself a bottle of water and follows me to the couch. I sit down on one end, and he sits on the other. He’s much too far away in my opinion, but he’s too close at the same time. What am I doing?

I pull my feet up onto the couch, my knees pointed toward the TV, and Matt stares at my legs. I tug my skirt down a little. He groans and lays his head back, but he’s grinning. “You don’t know how hard it is to sit way over here while you’re over there,” he says.

“Yes, I do,” I admit.

His gaze jerks to meet mine. “You’re feeling it too?” he asks. His eyes are so blue and so deep that I want to fall into them and stay there. Don’t ever look away from me, Matt.

I nod and bite my lower lip to keep from grinning. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend, Matt?” I ask. And I really want to know because it’s unfathomable to me that he’s single. He’s handsome, and he’s so kind.

He shakes a finger at me. “There’s a story there,” he says.

I settle into the sofa a little deeper and turn so that my feet are pointed toward him, my legs extended. My toes almost touch his thigh. But then he lifts my feet and slides under them, scooting closer to me. “I was in love with a girl. For a long time.”

“What happened to her?” I ask. He starts to tickle across my toes, and then his fingertips drag down the top of my foot. It’s a gentle sweep, and it feels so good that I don’t want him to stop. His fingers play absently as he starts to talk.

“When I got the diagnosis,” he says, “she couldn’t deal with it.”

“Cancer?” I ask.

He nods. His fingers drag up and down my shin, and he slides around to stroke the back of my knee. I don’t stop him when his hand slides beneath my skirt, although I do tense up. He smiles when he finds the top of my thigh highs, and he unclips the little fastener that attaches them to my garters. He repeats the action on the other side, his hands teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh as he frees the stocking and rolls it down. He pulls it all the way over my foot and does the same with the other side. I am suddenly really glad I shaved this morning. I wiggle my toes at him, and he starts to stroke me again. I don’t ever want him to stop.

“This okay?” he asks. But he’s not looking at my face. He’s looking at my legs.

“Yeah,” I breathe. “Keep talking. You got diagnosed…”

“I got diagnosed, and the prognosis wasn’t good. I went through chemo and got a little better. But then I needed a second round. Things didn’t look good, and we were flat broke. I couldn’t work at the tattoo parlor anymore because my immune system was too weak, so I had no money coming in. I was poor and sick and she didn’t love me enough to walk the path with me.” He shrugs, but I can tell he’s serious. “She cheated with my best friend.” He shrugs. “And that’s the end of that sad story.”

“You still love her?” I ask. I don’t breathe waiting for his answer.

He shakes his head and looks up. “I did love her for a long time. And I haven’t been looking for a relationship. I haven’t dated anyone since her. But I’m not in love with her anymore. I know that now.”