Loving Eden (Kissing Eden, #2)

“Let me help you.” Grey struggled to stand from the lounge chair, not his most athletic moment.

He followed me to the kitchen, sliding the door behind us. We left Mason and Taylor to enjoy the beginning beams of the sunset. I needed a minute away from them.

“Eden, hold on.”

I had one hand on a four-pound bag of shrimp in the refrigerator. “What?”

He caught my chin with his hand and crashed his mouth into mine. My lips moved against his, and I lost the grip on the shrimp. I didn’t care that our dinner was all over the floor. Grey’s hands coasted over my hips and along my sides. His tongue sent fire through my nerves. I breathed in the taste of him, only fueling the need I had to consume every part of him. God, I missed this.

“I have never wanted you like I do right now.” His voice was pained. “What you said out there.”

I quieted him with another kiss. I wanted to forget my ankles were bathed in seafood and that we had company on the deck. Some things don’t matter. I tugged on Grey’s neck, ready to take the kiss to the next level, when he groaned and seized at his leg.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I looked at him full of regret for getting carried away.

He shook his head. “Don’t ever apologize for kissing me like that. Ever.” He kissed my forehead. “We have to figure out a way around this leg. You are driving me crazy.”

I laughed. “That we do. But first, I better get these suckers in the pot.” I bent to scoop the shrimp in a colander and rinse them in the sink before dumping them in the boiling pot on the stove. I added a few slices of lemon, a beer, and an extra shake of bay seasoning. I set the timer for six minutes.

“Dinner will be ready in a few.” I pulled down the only serving platter we had from the top of the cabinet.

“Think that’s enough time for me to take a cold shower?” Grey tilted his head.

“Only if you think we can both fit, dry off, and get dressed before these shrimp are finished.”

He shook his head. “Probably not.” He gripped the handles on the crutches and started for the door. “We’re really going to finish this dinner?”

“Yes. We really are. And you’re doing great.”

“Don’t know how much longer I can put up with it.” He took a few lunges forward.

I watched as he re-entered the deck and started small talk with Taylor. I had to give him credit. He was trying harder than I had ever seen him. It made my heart melt.





The rest of dinner was surprisingly calm. Taylor and I told Carolina stories. Our favorite was about a third roommate who tried to move into our dorm room our sophomore year even after all our stuff had been unpacked. That poor girl was homeless for a week before the housing department found a place to put her.

When the last shrimp was peeled, Mason stood and started loading bowls and plates into his arms.

“You don’t have to do that.” I tried to match his table bussing.

“You did the cooking. Taylor and I can do the cleaning.” He smiled at her, and she immediately began to clear the table.

She giggled. “You and Grey enjoy the deck. We’ll get these done in a flash.”

I shrugged my shoulders and sat in my seat. I waited until they were inside before saying anything to Grey.

“What do you think?” I whispered.

He swirled the last bits of ice in his glass. “My opinion hasn’t changed, but I’m glad they are helping you with the dishes.” He smiled.

“That’s not what I mean.” I turned to make sure they were still busy in the kitchen. “About them. What do you think about them?”

“I don’t know. Taylor’s a sweet girl. She obviously likes him, but I can’t tell if he’s for real or not.”

I thought the same thing. Mason said and did all the right things where Taylor was concerned, but I still couldn’t figure out if he was legitimately interested in her or if he was a two-night stand kind of guy.

I sighed. “At least we salvaged her last night in Padre.”

Grey gripped my leg under the table. “You’re a good friend, Eden. She’s lucky you’re being so understanding.”

The reality was I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t lose my best friend.

The sliding glass door opened, and Taylor emerged on the deck with a plate of brownies. Mason trailed behind her with ice cream, bowls, and spoons.

He held them up. “We guessed this is dessert.”

“Yep.” I had made the brownies as soon as I got home from work.

He began scooping vanilla ice cream on top of the brownies as Taylor placed one in each bowl. I sat as they served dessert to Grey and me. I kept the sigh to myself. This could all be so different if Mason wasn’t hell-bent on the lawsuit. We could be a happy four-some, swapping jokes, enjoying cocktails and brownies, but instead we were all pretending that life was different from the layers of this moment.



T. A. Foster's books