hours, but they would be here soon.
And this thing between me and Keaton, whatever it was, would end just the way it started, with our cars going in opposite directions, our hearts still sore and healing.
Alone.
It would end with both of us alone.
Loneliness felt like death to me. I’d always had Izzy, I’d always had an end goal, and now I was in limbo, going through the motions and trying to deal with a death I refused to acknowledge.
My own.
The death of the man I used to be and the rebirth of someone who was trying like hell to be better—to be the man my mother had raised.
I pounded my fists against the tile again then flipped off the water and wrapped a towel around my wet body. I was so immersed in my own thoughts that I wasn’t watching where I was going when I jerked open the bathroom door and made my way toward the guest bedroom.
Keaton turned a corner.
I stumbled to catch her arms without falling on my ass, and she pressed her hands against my chest as we collided against the wall.
Her hands slid down my wet chest, her stunned expression half hidden by her black hoodie. My blood roared as my heart hammered against my chest, faster and faster the longer she kept her fingers pressed to my skin.
I had promised I wouldn’t seduce her.
My body was currently cursing me to hell as her eyes roamed down to the towel that was wrapped around my waist.
She gulped.
If she licked her lips, I was a dead man.
If I saw tongue, I would have no choice but to taste her.
“You—” Her voice was breathless, like she’d been running up and down the halls. “Were dirty?”
I pressed my lips together to keep from smirking. “That’s generally why people shower.”
“Not the only reason,” she teased and took a step back. “Hot or cold?”
“Excuse me?”
“Hot or cold shower?”
I gaped and then narrowed my eyes “If you’re suggesting I’m taking cold showers because I told you I’d keep my hands off you and you’re just that fucking irresistible that I’m having a hard time keeping my promise . . .” I leaned down and whispered, “You’d be right.”
I quickly sidestepped her before I did something that would shatter the cease-fire between us and hurried into my room, shutting the door behind me.
My heart thudded against my chest as I dropped the towel to the floor and walked toward the closet just as a soft knock sounded and the door opened.
I turned, not thinking.
She walked in, eyes lowered to where the towel had just been.
I held my groan in. “Staring doesn’t help, Keaton.”
“Sorry.” Her eyes jerked away. “I, uh, didn’t think you would be naked, but it’s fine, I can handle naked, I just wondered”—her eyes lowered again, widened—“if . . .”
“If?” I prompted, enjoying the way I distracted her. “Eyes up here, Keaton.”
“Sorry!” she snapped. “I just saw something . . . on . . . the wall.”
“Something big?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you want me to make chocolate chip cookies or not?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“Well, good.” She crossed her arms. “I’ll just be doing it now . . . uh, not it, the cookies, not doing the cookies, making—”
“You should go.” I grinned.
She rolled her eyes, more at herself than me, it seemed, and left my room so fast the door almost hit her on the way out.
I ignored the release in my chest as I put on a pair of black jeans and a cream sweater.
And realized that several minutes later I was still smiling as I passed the bathroom and walked into the kitchen.
I don’t know how long I leaned against the wall and watched her bake. She was actually doing a pretty good job, gauze and all. I’d rewrapped it tighter this time and made sure that a few of her good fingers were exposed on her right hand so that she could do more.
She stared at the mixing bowl and put her hands on her hips then very slowly turned around. “I need your muscle.”
I pushed away from the wall. “For homemade cookies, I’d do pretty much anything.”
She seemed to perk up. “Really?”
“I feel a question coming.”
She frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re full of questions.” I laughed, grabbed the wooden spoon, and started stirring. “Bet you love puzzles and find extreme enjoyment when each piece fits where it’s supposed to. Bet it would drive you batshit crazy if I stole one piece and it was incomplete.”
She elbowed