Kickstart My Heart (Burgers and Brew Crue #1) - Lacey Black Page 0,47
of a support system since she’s moved, but that’s okay. We’ve got her. Me and my friends.
The Brew Crüe.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Oh,” she adds, pulling a wad of cash from her purse. “Let me pay you.”
“Hell no,” Isaac says, looking insulted. “You’re not paying me, Mallory.”
“I don’t mind,” she says, but he cuts her off.
“Not happening. I don’t charge my family, and that’s what you are now, Mal. Family.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, heading over and giving him a hug. “For everything.”
“No problem.” Isaac heads for the door but stops before he gets there. “So, your neighbors. Wow. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be appalled or turned on.”
“Oh my God,” she grumbles, holding her hands up to cover her mouth. “They did that tonight?”
“Oh yeah, I think twice. Your girl slept through everything though.”
Mallory exhales. “She usually does, thank goodness. I’m not sure if the walls are just that thin or if they’re just that loud.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s both,” Isaac says, pulling open the door. “That lady is definitely a screamer, and I’m positive no amount of insulation would keep her contained.” Isaac throws me a wave and heads out the door, pulling it tightly closed behind him.
“At first, I thought they only did it against the wall right where my couch is, but then I realized I could hear it just about anywhere. I bet the neighbors downstairs get an earful too.”
I smile and reach behind her to lock the door. She doesn’t say anything as I slide the chain across and step back. When I reach for her hand, she willingly places hers inside mine. “Come on, Mal. Let’s go check on our girl.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mallory
Our girl.
Those two words keep replaying in my head as I walk to Lizzie’s bedroom to peek in on her. Walker is close behind. I can feel the heat from his body in the too-small hallway and the press of his hand to my back as I slowly push the door. My daughter is sleeping soundly in her toddler bed, curled up with her favorite blanket and a teddy bear. When I know we’ve both seen with our own eyes that she’s safe and snoozing, I pull the door back, leaving it cracked just a bit.
Back in the living room, I turn to him nervously. Suddenly, the room feels way too small. I can hear his even breathing and smell a mix of his soap and sweat. Needing something to do with my hands, that doesn’t involve me grabbing that sleeveless shirt and ripping it from his body, I head for the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of water?”
Walker follows me, of course, and leans against the wall, watching. “Sure.” When I pull two glasses from the cabinet and a gallon jug from the fridge, he adds, “If you’re tired and ready for bed, I can head out. I’m usually pretty amped up after work and tend to stay up later than I should.”
Pouring the liquid, I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. I’m not really tired yet.”
He moves beside me, taking the jug from the counter and recapping it, before replacing it back in the fridge. I grab the first glass and chug half the contents, my throat suddenly extremely dry and parched. Even in the low lighting of the room, he’s stunningly beautiful.
Walker grabs the second glass and reaches for my hand. “Come on. Let’s go sit in the living room.”
I’m not sure what to do. Do I sit in the middle so we’re close, or do I take an end and let him choose where he sits? Gahhhh, why is this so weird? It’s not the first time I’ve been around a man—well, maybe not one this hot—but I’m acting like a teenager about to experience her first kiss.
I end up halfway between two cushions. Getting comfortable, I kick off my shoes, turn to face the other end, and crisscross my legs. He takes the other end cushion, throws his arm over the back and turns slightly to face me. We’re not too close, but casually close enough that we could touch if we wanted to.
“So,” I start, leaning my shoulder against the couch. “Tell me what I witnessed tonight.”
He laughs, low and gravelly. I wiggle in my seat. “That was a five-year tradition that began on opening night after too many shots of tequila.”
Smiling, I relax against the couch, not even caring how uncomfortable it really is. “Tell me about it.”