Close to You - Kristen Proby Page 0,22
he whispers against my lips, “That’s the good kind.”
Finally, he eases back, brushes his nose over mine, and with a deep breath, turns and jogs down to his car.
I walk into my house in a fog. Did that just happen? I stare at the sunflowers on the sofa table and touch my lips with my fingertips. They’re still wet. I can still taste him.
It totally just happened.
I WAKE TO the smell of coffee. Which is impossible because I don’t even own a coffeemaker. I frown and throw an old T-shirt and yoga pants on and pad downstairs. Someone is moving about my kitchen.
I stop in the doorway, completely surprised. Landon is at the stove, flipping bacon in a pan and jumping back when it spatters at him. Scoot is nibbling at kibble in his bowl.
“How did you get in here?” I ask.
Landon’s head whips around. He smiles, allowing his eyes to rake up and down me. “Good morning, beautiful.”
“Good morning. How did you get in here?”
“Well, babe, I don’t want to lie to you.” He sighs and turns to place the cooked bacon on a paper towel, but doesn’t finish his thought.
“And?”
“That’s it. I don’t want to lie. Or, I could just say, it’s none of your business.”
“Uh-huh. Okay, then why are you here?”
He shakes his head. “It’s really flattering how excited you are to see me. I thought you could use a nice balanced breakfast before work. You say you don’t have time to eat in the morning, and I’m making time.”
“I am happy to see you,” I admit softly. “I’m just surprised.” And that might be the understatement of the year.
He leans over the island and kisses me chastely, then hands me a piece of bacon. “This will tide you over until I scramble the eggs.”
“When did I get a coffeemaker?”
“This morning. Mia told me you didn’t have one.”
“You didn’t have to buy me a coffeemaker.” But oh dear God, how good does it smell!
“I don’t have to do much of anything,” he replies, and pours me a cup, then passes it to me. “I wanted to bring you breakfast.”
“I didn’t think you could cook.”
“I’m not half-bad at morning food.”
“No, you’re not,” I murmur as I chew the bacon, still not completely awake. I take a sip of the coffee and hum as the hot liquid works its way down my throat. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I should go get ready for work.”
“Eat first. Then you can go get ready and I’ll answer some e-mails and wait for you.”
“Why would you wait?”
He glances back at me like I’m just not keeping up with him. “Because I’ll drive you to work. I’m going to the same place.”
I frown, but he walks around the island to me, and before I can speak, he plants those lips on mine. “Don’t argue,” he whispers.
“You’re bossy.”
“It’s good that you recognize that now, sweetheart.”
“I don’t know how I feel about you being so bossy.”
“That’s just because you’re still half-asleep.”
“LANDON’S HERE FOR you,” Riley says later that afternoon. “He says he’s taking you home?”
“We rode together this morning,” I reply, and hit send on an e-mail to our payroll lady, then shut down the computer.
“You spent the night with him?” she squeals. “And you wait until right now to say something?”
“No, I didn’t spend the night with him. He came over this morning and made me breakfast, and drove me to work.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Riley shakes her head and sits at her desk. “It’s just interesting, that’s all.”
“What’s interesting?”
“The whole situation.” Riley laughs and points at the door. “He’s waiting. Have a good night. Use protection.”
“You’re weird,” I reply with a frown, grab my bag and jacket, and walk out of the office. Landon is waiting by the front door, looking at his phone with a frown on his handsome face. “Something wrong?”
His head whips up and he smiles when he sees me. “Not a thing. Are you ready?”
“Ready.” He opens the passenger door for me and I sink back in the seat of his car and take a deep breath. “I’m so ready to go home.”
“Well, the thing is, we’re not going home.”
“We’re not?” I glance over at him in surprise. “Where are we going?”
“To the movies.”
“It’s not even five in the afternoon.”
“Matinee,” he replies, and takes my hand in his, kisses my knuckles, and drives us into the heart of downtown Portland. He finds parking and escorts me into a mall, then up about five thousand escalators to the top, where the theater is. “Popcorn for dinner?”
“That’s