"Stop, stop, stop!" I stand up. "I'm glad to see that your hip injury hasn't affected your sense of propriety."
"Go make up with Killian," Opal orders. "Stop being stupid. Spank him if you have to. Or push him in the pond. But go fix things."
I sigh loudly. "You're just as damn bossy and stubborn as he is."
Opal laughs. "And you think you're not, sugar?"
43
Lily
I tell myself to just text him already, but I don't. I distract myself by talking on the phone to Chloe and my parents, who pointedly ask about the bakery when I really know they want to ask about Killian, but I don't bring it up. Chloe is excited to tell me that she's having a "fabulous" time and that Nana and Pop-Pop let her eat cereal with marshmallows for breakfast.
"Don't let her eat marshmallows for breakfast!" I warn.
"You ate marshmallow cereal for breakfast when you were her age," my mother says.
"She's going to be bouncing off the walls."
"It's okay. Your father's going to take her out this afternoon. They put in an arcade in that shopping plaza over by the Chinese restaurant."
"So you're feeding her marshmallows and letting her play video games?"
"I want to stay here forever!" Chloe yells. "But I love you!"
"Of course you do. I love you too, Chloe."
"Oh, she just darted off toward the kitchen," my mother says. "I should go after her before she grabs that pan of brownies off the counter. You know, you're there all alone for a week. I hope you decide to. . . use your time wisely."
By "wisely", she means hooking up with Killian, I'm sure.
"Why don't you go grab Chloe before you find her covered in brownie on the kitchen floor?"
"We're going to be back next week and we're looking forward to meeting him."
"Mom, go!"
The knock on the front door jolts me awake. Shit, how long have I been napping? I only closed my eyes for a second. I was planning to call the insurance company again before going back down to the store to finish going through and testing appliances. CJ over at the diner was thankfully able to help me unload the freezer and put the contents in her restaurant, although I don't know how I'll be able to use the inventory now. I might be able to work out of the house, or arrange with CJ to use her oven. Or something.
The last person I expect to see when I open the door is Killian. He's standing there with his thumbs looped into the pockets of his jeans, wearing a faded brown t-shirt and boots, and the only thing I can think about when I look at him is the way his hands would feel moving across my skin, his lips crushing mine, his
My hand flies to my face. I think the arm of the sofa is imprinted onto my cheek. I might have been drooling.
"Get in my truck," Killian orders.
"What? You're going to drive up here after a week – no, ten days of hearing nothing from you, and then tell me to get in your truck? No."
"It wasn't a question."
"I don't doubt it. I also wasn't joking when I said no."
"Woman, just – do I have to pick you up and put you in my truck?"
I cross my arms, my face flushing warm because I remember the last time Killian picked me up and slung me over his shoulder, naked, his fingers between my legs. He must see the expression on my face because he steps close to me and looks down at me, his eyes smoldering. I inhale sharply at his proximity, heat flooding my body. "Try it," I dare him.
I hold my breath, my heart racing not because I don't want him to do it. It's because I want him to do it. Every part of me wants to tell him to pick me up and carry me straight inside the house so he can tear my clothes off and fuck me hard against the wall. We wouldn't make it farther than the front door, I know that much.
Killian growls. "Just for once, will you not give me any damn grief? I came up here because I need to show you something."
My heart pounds wildly. "Something with the store?" I don't need any more bad news.
"Sort of. Just get in the truck already and stop making me feel like I'm kidnapping you."
I roll my eyes. "Fine."
"Fine."
I follow him to his truck and get inside, sitting with my arms crossed and silently looking out the window the entire drive. I'm acutely aware of the fact that I'm sitting in his truck like a petulant child. But he's not exactly behaving in a less stubborn way than usual, either. So that makes two of us.
"You passed the bakery," I point out as he drives a block further down Main Street and turns right onto one of the side streets.
"I know." He pulls the truck over and gets out, pulling open the passenger door. "I'm taking you here instead."
I follow him out of sheer morbid curiosity – and because his ass looks great in those jeans – as he unlocks the door and swings it open.
"Okay?" I ask, looking around. It's an empty space. A gorgeous empty space with hardwood floors and large windows and walls painted white with just a hint of blue. And I don't know why I'm standing here.
"What do you think?" Killian asks. He looks almost… giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning.