“What’re you thinking?” I grazed her chin gently with my thumb.
“I miss home.”
I could see the sadness in her eyes. For all the sass that Kendy had and however worldly she pretended to be, there was still a sweet innocence about her. All that rough around the edges young woman was gone, and all that remained was a small town girl.
“Where did that come from?” I asked, dropping my hand and wondering how her mood could change so easily.
“It’s been months since I watched a movie. I used to do it every weekend with my mama.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t think I’d miss her so much when I came here, but I do. I miss everything. Having hot cocoa with her before bed. Watching our late night talk shows together. I even miss fighting with her. Maybe . . .” She hesitated as she fidgeted with her fingers.
“Say it.”
She peered up at me, looking vulnerable for the first time tonight, which tightened my chest. “Maybe I rushed into things. I wanted to move to a city where no one knew me, but now I just want to go home. Every part of me wants to go home.”
I tried not to let those words slam into me like the reality they were. Maybe she wouldn’t stay here; maybe New York City wouldn’t become her permanent home. And I would lose her if she didn’t stay.
Then an idea came to me. I breathed quietly, trying to keep my racing heart in check. “Want me to take you home to Bowlesville?”
I waited for her instant rejection, for her to bring up those fucking FTF rules again, argue that friends that fuck don’t take their temporary lovers home to meet the parents or friends.
But she didn’t do that.
She smiled.
It was small at first, and then grew until it lit up her whole face, and it made me want to bust out my credit card and charge two tickets to Chicago right this second.
“You’d do that?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” I replied honestly, feeling like I was laying my guts out on the table.
She bit her bottom lip, which was the cutest thing, and everything in me wanted to do the same thing, so I did. I leaned down, caressing the side of her face, and captured her lips with mine.
I kissed her softly, sweetly, and poured my feelings into that one action. I wanted to savor her, take it slow. She molded into me and, once again, she fit perfectly against my chest between the span of my shoulders. So crazy perfect.
And I knew I was in deep shit.
When I pulled backed and glanced down into those stark blue eyes, in that instant, I knew I was screwed.
I’d fallen in love with this girl.
The girl who only wanted to play the game.
FOURTEEN
KENDY
His kiss left me breathless, making my heart pitter-patter against my chest, and there was something behind it that I couldn’t put my finger on. It was the type of kiss that was frightening yet addicting all at the same time. Either way, it made me want more, something I wasn’t used to.
We stood under the moonlight, lips locked like we were on our own movie set. I sensed people around us, passing us by, but I didn’t care as I melted into his arms. After a moment, he slowed to a few pecks, pulled back, and the look he gave me made goose bumps break out along my skin. There was such reverence in his eyes; his look alone made me feel . . . cherished, a feeling that seemed so foreign to me.
Letting go of my face, he reached for my hand and intertwined our fingers. As he stepped away, the energy from that kiss left my body.
My shoulders slumped, my body exhausted from the long week. I was overworked, tired of constantly chasing James, and tired of missing home. My feet hurt, my back hurt, and I needed sleep.
“I’m tired.” It slipped out before I even had a chance to stop it. I sounded like such a party pooper, when I had practically begged him to go out.
“I’m taking you home,” he said sweetly.
I laughed, because I didn’t think he’d heard me correctly. “I said I’m tired. I think taking me home is going to equate to being more tired after you work me out. Plus, you have that proposal and big client meeting tomorrow.”
He let out a low chuckle. “I just wanted to make you some homemade hot cocoa. You know, bring some Bowesville here.”
Homemade hot cocoa? Made from scratch?
I swooned, my knees growing weak. The selfish yet homesick side of me wanted him to come over, but my reasonable side didn’t want him to be tired at work.
“Plus,” he said, “I need to run to the grocery store, since I’m out of condoms.”
I pulled back so I could see if he was kidding. “We’ve used a box of condoms? How big was the box?”
“Pretty big.” His smile turned devilish. “And yes . . . we’re out.”
I shook my head, smiling. “You know what? Hot cocoa sounds so good right about now.”
***
BRIAN
As the cab pulled up to the local mart, I took her hand again, stepped out, and led us through the doors.
Funny how easy my lie had been. Now she thought I knew how to make hot cocoa from scratch. Hell no, I had no clue, but I wasn’t about to tell her that.
Before we’d hopped into the cab, she had excused herself to take her evening call from her mama. That’s when I’d Googled how to make authentic hot cocoa. I would fake it for this girl. It was that or go home, and I wasn’t ready to leave her yet.
I was conflicted because I had that important call and proposal, but being with Kendy, spending more time with her, outweighed work at the moment. I’d probably regret it tomorrow morning when exhaustion hit me, but right now, it didn’t matter.
“Alrighty, where are we off to?” Kendy asked, stuffing her phone into her oversized purse. It was amazing how much shit a girl could fit in those things. The oversized accessory reminded me of my sisters.
“Baking aisle.” I took a screen shot of the recipe. The first recipe I saw was Nutella Hot chocolate. It looked so damn delicious I couldn’t resist.
If Google said it was the best, I doubted they’d lie. Hope rose within me, thinking this was one of the many ways I was going to win her over. By making her the best hot cocoa, better even than her mama’s. That was the goal, at least.
“You’re going to make me homemade, fresh from scratch hot cocoa?” She popped her hip out and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “And I’m not talking about that dirt in a can that you mix with milk.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a nod. “It’s going to be the best. I can guarantee it. You allergic to nuts?”
“Not your nuts.” She tugged on my belt suggestively, making me laugh.
“Not the kind of nuts I’m talking about.”
“Nope. I’m not allergic.” She laughed. “And I love all kinds of nuts.”
***
KENDY
Brian was on a mission. I couldn’t help but be impressed that this young man knew his way around a grocery store. I mean, it wasn’t hard to make hot cocoa, but still. How many twenty-five year old guys made anything but frozen meals at home?
He searched the aisle twice before stopping in front of the baking section then grabbed the Hershey cocoa powder and cinnamon and placed it in the shopping cart.
I tugged at his shirt, forcing him to look down at me. “Cinnamon?”
“Trust me,” he replied, bending down to kiss me on the lips.
“Okay.” I waved my hand for him to lead the way as I pushed the cart beside him.
We walked a few steps down before he dropped another ingredient into the cart.
“Marshmallows.” He threw me his boyish smile before walking ahead of me.
I continued to follow him up and down and through the aisles as he dropped every ingredient in while also announcing to the world what it was.
“Nutella.”
“Vanilla Extract.”