s’mores over an open fire. Of course, that could just be because, judging by the scent wafting out from the kitchen, Sarah used the Oh Fudge beans. Usually, I can’t help but smile when I get a whiff of the chocolate-flavored coffee, but not this morning. Instead of a silly giggle at the punny name, I can’t work past the jealous pang in my belly.
He doesn’t laugh with me that way. Actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard him laugh around me. Chuckle? Yes. Epileptic-seizing quiet-laughing at me? Okay, that too. But a real, deep-in-your-belly, happy laugh? No.
But he does around Sarah.
Pull it together, Mallory. This isn’t a Karl and Sasha situation again. This is your sister and your neighbor. That’s all. Stop trying to make overthinking your mission in life.
Yeah, this is definitely a case of I-don’t-like-myself-all-that-much-when-I’m-hangry. It’s time for peaches-and-cream oatmeal and enough coffee to power a nuclear submarine. Kinda mean but totally on the money pep-talk complete, I walk into the kitchen.
Nick is standing with one hip leaning against the big oval kitchen table. I allow my gaze to flick over to him for 3.6 seconds. Any longer and I’m afraid I’d melt into a puddle of early-morning want right there in the middle of the linoleum floor. What can I say? Mornings are always my let’s-go time. It must have something to do with the fact that the day hasn’t beaten me down yet, making morning sex forever the best sex.
“About time you got up, sleepyhead,” Sarah says when I finally tear my eyes away from Nick.
She shoots me a teasing smile as she pours me a cup of coffee and holds it out to me as I walk into the light-filled room.
Nick scoops up the Kill the Bingo Caller mug before I can make it anywhere near my sister at the coffeepot and meets me halfway. “I’m reporting for duty.”
He’s in jeans that cling to his thick thighs, a T-shirt with sleeves that end right at that perfect spot on his biceps, and he—unlike me—has obviously showered that morning. Ugh. It isn’t fair. The man not only looks good this early but he comes bearing coffee.
I take a sip and then let out a contented sigh. “Oh fudge.”
One side of Nick’s mouth curls upward in a half smile that does funny things to me. Discombobulating things. Tingly things. Definitely I’ll-be-thinking-of-this-later-tonight things.
“Yeah,” he says, looking straight at me, his gaze dipping down to my mouth. “Early-morning coffee is the best, isn’t it?”
Oh. My. God. My skin feels flush. Forget funny things. That look from him has my toes half curled, and a greedy little groan, hungry and needy, escapes my lips. Why doesn’t real life come with a rewind button? My hands start to tremble and I set my mug on the counter before I drop it.
Forget oatmeal. I need to get out of here stat.
“I’m gonna go shower.” I shuffle backward. “Then it’s all about the green guest room. After that, we’re going to burn that ridiculous couch.”
I’m halfway up the stairs before I realize I left my coffee on the counter.
“Oh fudge.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Oh wow.” Sarah stops at the doorway and stares into the first of my aunt’s guest rooms. To be fair, it isn’t like any of us can get beyond the doorway; the room is so packed with clutter anyway.
Boxes, sewing mannequins, piles and piles of books, bolts of cloth, and baskets of yarn and ribbon cover every available spot.
“You sure you guys want to do this today?” I ask. “We could go downstairs and make margaritas and chocolate chip cookies instead.”
“It’s nine o’clock in the morning,” Nick says.
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” I joke.
Nick takes a step closer, and the nice, wide upstairs hall gets a whole lot narrower. “Nope, just noting the time.”
“How about we make a plan to clear half the room today?” Sarah says. “We uncover the bed and tackle the side of the room closest to the door. Once we’ve done that, lunch—and margaritas at the Mexican restaurant down the street—is my treat. I found out a couple of weeks ago that they make really good virgin piña coladas.”
“Margaritas for lunch it is,” Nick says.
I look from them to the stacks and stacks of stuff crammed into every nook and cranny, then back again. “Or dinner…”
“Or dinner.” Sarah laughs as she turns in the doorway and takes a step into the hallway and a deep breath. “But I say we all take a box