Chapter 8
724 Words
CHAPTER 8
Shannon bustled around the living room, tidying as she went. She didn’t want Isaac and Jenna to come home to a mess, and she needed to keep herself distracted.
Because anytime she stopped moving, she started thinking. And anytime she started thinking, she was thinking about Lucas.
She hadn’t realized it, but he’d kept in touch with Sara and Isaac all this time. Sara had shown her the inside of her closet door earlier, and it was lined with silly postcards from all over the place. Apparently he had spent the past five years travelling, working at different coffee shops along the way. And he’d sent Sara a postcard from each town. He got some points for that, at least.
She had to face the fact that it was easier to be angry with him than to admit she was seriously attracted to someone who would keep a secret like that from her. Someone who walked away when things got tough. They could have used an extra pair of hands during that awful time. Isaac had been devastated, and they’d all scrambled to take turns looking after Sara while they juggled work schedules. The family had all rallied around—the MacAllisters had, anyways.
He was here now, though, and doing his best to be a good uncle to Sara.
In her heart, she didn’t fully trust him yet, but her body was one-hundred-percent in favour of getting to know him a little better before she made her final judgement call.
In a couple of minutes, Lucas was going to come back down those stairs.
Shannon had two choices. She could thank him for the cookies and shuffle him towards the door. They could go back to mostly avoiding each other and just be occasionally friendly neighbours.
Or…
His footsteps on the stairs interrupted her train of thought.
It would be so much easier to show him the door if he was just a little less sexy. She’d always liked a little polish on her guys. Jackson, despite being a frog, could fill out a suit. But Lucas? Damn. She’d developed a secret fetish for the way he looked in jeans. Especially the ripped ones he’d been wearing for painting the past few days. And those dorky coffee T-shirts always made her smile. So did the way he filled them out. You’d think a guy who made lattes for a living wouldn’t be quite that solidly built, but clearly the man had other hobbies that kept him fit. Or seriously amazing genes.
She stood there, frozen in place as each step brought him closer. Decision time…
But it wasn’t actually a decision at all. He stepped off the bottom stair, and when their eyes met, he just kept on coming until he was standing right in front of her. He reached up to brush her hair back off her face.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Oh, boy. The butterflies in her belly went a little crazy at that news. All fluttery and excited.
“If you don’t want my lips on yours, you’d better speak up fast.” She couldn’t say anything—she could only lick her lips and stare—so he stepped in and eliminated the last few inches between them. And took her mouth with his.
The kiss was everything she remembered from New Year’s Eve and more.
Nothing dulled her senses this time. There was no sadness, no tears. No tequila. Just pure, hot heat that quickly turned the fire in her belly to molten lava.
When the room spun, she wrapped her arms around him, let go of all the doubts and reasons why this was a terrible idea, and just rode the wave.
His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer. She could feel every inch of him pressed up against her. He may have turned her down on New Year’s, but he was definitely interested now. No question.
“Shannon…” When he pulled away, she felt a flash of disappointment and then blinding panic as she took note of the glare of headlights outside.
“Oh, crap. They’re back!” A quick glance down had her straightening her clothes, her face on fire.
Lucas swore. “Your brother is going to kick my ass.” Shannon tried not to laugh as he looked down, shook his head, then dashed towards the kitchen. “Stall them if you can. I’m going to need a couple of minutes to, uh… collect myself. Then just follow my lead.”
- Writer
