I slam the bowl on the counter and turn toward him, fully prepared to tell him off, when he moves closer. “What are you—”
Easton’s hands slide to my face, and goosebumps break out over my skin, making me forget what I was about to say as his clean crisp scent surrounds me. Calming me. “Telling my wife I missed her.” He backs me against the fridge and covers my mouth with his. Soft and firm and impossibly perfect.
As much as I don’t want to, I melt against him. Because it’s Easton.
Hell, little cartoon fireworks might as well be exploding above my head with the amount of electricity firing off between us.
Then as quickly as it happened, the kiss is over, and he pulls back and presses his forehead against mine. “Hi,” he whispers, and his minty breath fans my face.
“Hi,” slips past my lips before I even have time to remember why I’m mad at him. Cautiously, I bring my shaking hand up to his face and stroke his cheek. “What are you doing, E?”
“Saying hello to my wife.” There he goes again.
Yup. That helps me remember why I’m mad.
I drop my hand to his chest and push him back. “Don’t get used to calling me that. I told you I want an annulment. The entire family is freaking out about it. My mom is ready to kill me, and I’d avoid Brandon at all costs if I were you. Scarlet’s having a cow. ESPN is asking for an interview, and my brothers . . . Don’t even go near my brothers.”
“I’m not scared of your family, princess. I don’t care what they think.”
Why is his voice suddenly growly and sexy?
And why are my panties suddenly damp?
“You might not, but I do. Do you know how hard it’s been to get my brothers and sisters to treat me like an adult? To stop looking at me like I’m a baby? I won a freaking gold medal, and I’m still not sure I was an adult in their eyes yet. But I was a whole lot closer before I got drunk and got married.”
“Still don’t remember that night, do you?” His thick arms cross over his chest.
I lift my face to his, and for a moment, I just stare at the man in front of me. The one who’s meant everything to me for years. The one who looks like I just broke his heart. Suddenly, something cracks deep in my chest. “No. Not yet,” I whisper.
The hurt is replaced by disappointment before Easton can mask it with cocky confidence. “You will.”
“Maybe,” I admit and realize there’s a tiny nugget of hope in that truth.
Just as quickly as it vanished, Easton’s grin is back in place. “You gonna let me stay here, wife?”
“It’s Kenzie’s home too.” I try to hide the quiet tremor in my voice. “She said you can stay. And stop calling me that.”
He takes one more step closer. “But I’m asking you, princess. If you say you don’t want me here, I’ll go.”
I blink up at him and run my teeth over my bottom lip, hesitant to answer. Scared of the truth but completely unable to lie to him. “Of course you can stay here.”
He reaches out with his thumb and presses it against my lip, freeing it from my teeth. “I knew you had it in you, princess.”
“I said you can stay in my house. Not in my bed, hockey boy.”
He cups my face in his hands and presses his lips to my forehead, sending a wave of warmth straight down my spine. “We’ll see about that.”
I dip out from under his arm. “Is that a challenge?”
“No, baby. It’s a promise.”
Why do I think those words are going to haunt me?
Looks like I spoke too soon, peeps. A little birdy told me that Easton Hayes is going to be wearing Revolution red, white, and blue the next time he laces his hockey skates. I guess Mrs. Hayes didn’t like the idea of her playboy husband living it up in sin city while she looks for ways to spend her time, now that she’s retired from skating. You know what this means? Baby watch is on! #babywatch #KroydonKronicles
LINDY
By six a.m. the next morning, I’ve given up any hope of getting a good night’s sleep and decide to give in to my desperate need for coffee. I throw my hoodie over my tank and pad downstairs, expecting Myrtle to wake up, ready to go outside. But my girl looks at me like I’m crazy as I pass her bed. Guess it’s too early for her too.
Same, girl, same.
I tossed and turned all night, thinking about the fact that Easton Hayes was currently sleeping above me. Ugh. The images that single thought conjures makes me all sorts of squirmy. How is it fair that I finally spent a night sleeping in bed with Easton instead of just seeing his face on a phone, and not only do I not remember it, but apparently all I did was sleep?
Not that I’m mad we didn’t actually have sex . . . I mean, this would be so much worse if we had. It’s just—he’s kissed me. Twice. And those kisses . . . My God.
Heat pools between my legs, just thinking about them.
Heat I ignore.
Nope.
No heat for me.
I refuse to accept any tiny little flicker of heat.
I cannot be turned-on by just the thought of Easton Hayes.
My husband.
I add the coffee beans and water to the sleek stainless-steel coffee maker and sit on a counter stool, staring at it. Willing it to work faster. I’ve got ice time at the rink in an hour, and there’s no way I’m getting through the morning without a boost.
“Good morning, wife.”
A chill skates down my spine as Easton joins me in the kitchen and drops a kiss on the top of my head like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s freshly showered, and his sandy-brown hair is wet, tousled, and smells delicious. Like white pine and citrus.
He moves past me, and oh my . . . Gray sweat pants hang off his lean hips and hug his thick thighs. And my mouth waters when I drag my eyes up his chest covered in a deliciously tight white t-shirt. This man is a god. No wonder I’ve had a crush on him for half my life.
He makes himself at home in my kitchen, like he’s been here a thousand times, and grabs a mug out of the cabinet as he hums.
Hums.
Who hums at six a.m.?
Apparently, my husband does as he makes himself coffee. I watch, fascinated, as he fills a mug, grabs the Christmas-cookie creamer from my fridge, adds a heaping pour, then holds it out for me and waits.
I blink up at him, confused.
Easton leans in and licks his lips, and I swear my heart skips a beat. “I like when your eyes do that, princess. Your lashes get fluttery, and your cheeks are all pink and pretty. It makes me think about all the other things I can do to get you to flush that way.” Easton’s lips caress the shell of my ear as he whispers, “And I’ve gotta tell you, they’re all a hell of a lot more fun than making you coffee.”
He finally puts the coffee down on the counter next to me as I stare at him in shock. “Why do you know how I take my coffee?” I ask, stunned.
“Because I’ve made it my business to know everything about you.”
“Oh.” What the hell? Oh? That’s the best I can come up with?
“Do you have plans tonight?” He doesn’t wait for my answer before he starts rifling through my cabinets again.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.