“I’ve been wondering what this would be like,” she said breathlessly.
His lids lifted just enough for his eyes to flick to hers before his hands guided her face, returning her to him. “What, this?”
His lips coaxed and teased, and the taste of him sent her spinning. His mouth to hers, both with and against, a delicate ebb and flow that opened her heart to him each time his lips parted. Her hands scaled his shoulders and up into his hair, and he pulled her closer, their chests pressing, his arms enfolding her, the kiss deepening and melting all at once, until his teeth caught her bottom lip and tugged just enough before pulling away.
“And?” he said. “How is it?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute.”
She pulled him to her again, and they lost all sense of anything concrete except for each other. His pulse became hers; her breath became his. Somehow, he managed to turn so they were no longer in the doorway beneath the mistletoe, but against the wall.
“I probably need to get going.”
She let out a little grumble, earning another tantalizing grin.
“But I have more plans,” he whispered against her mouth. “Would you like to be privy to them?”
“You and your plans.”
He pecked a kiss once more. Maybe twice. Okay, several times. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him.
“I am a contractor, after all,” he said after several more minutes.
“So you’ve told me,” she said, feeling the strength of his arms around her. “What’s next?”
“Work party,” he said, swallowing and guiding her back to the laundry room to retrieve his coat and shoes. “New Years’ Eve. I need a date.”
A date. With Cole Osteen, a handsome contractor with star-searing eyes, who took his nieces to the zoo, told her son stories to soothe him, helped build snow forts, and kissed like the devil himself.
“And you can work me in?” She watched him tie his shoes. Cole winced, probably because his shoes were soaking wet on the inside.
“Absolutely,” he said, not complaining. He filled her in on the details, holding her hand while she walked him to the door—the front door this time.
“Thanks for coming over,” she said.
He dipped in for a final kiss. “I’ll see you Friday.”
Chapter Twelve
Cole’s head was still spinning the next morning. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the incredible afternoon he’d spent with Saylor and her son, and how naturally he had fit into their lives in a single day.
Her son was, in a word, adorable. His natural, childlike excitement over tiny things most others wouldn’t even blink at had been delightful. Cole couldn’t help feeling for the kid, torn as he was between his divorced parents. For the first time, it made Cole glad he hadn’t had kids with Brooke after all. He was glad he wasn’t putting his own child through what Saylor and Parker were dealing with.
Saylor had been so easy to talk to. It was one thing he liked best about her, from the minute he’d met her. Sitting with her on her couch, holding hands with her, talking about their respective pasts, each of those things had come naturally, too. He hadn’t felt like he was prying, and she had been so open and responsive to his questions, to his touch, he couldn’t help but kiss her.
That kiss. Or kisses, really. He hadn’t planned to do quite so much their first time, but that had just come spontaneously, too. It had been as though he was meant to do it, to hold her in his arms. It had felt as though she’d always belonged there.
Her words before the kiss haunted him the entire way home, though. What had she meant by warning him off? He’d assumed she was referring to the way her marriage had ended, and how hurt she’d been. She didn’t want to get hurt with Cole.
That was last thing he wanted as well, for either of them. He knew he wouldn’t hurt her, not intentionally. But something about her wouldn’t stop nagging him. It was the same troublesome thought he’d had the first time he’d seen her.
He’d told himself he wasn’t ready for another relationship. Things with Brooke had gone smoothly at first, just as they seemed to be going with Saylor. Saylor’s question, though, her warning, made him feel that much more cautious.
He needed to talk to someone.
Cole dressed quickly, gulped down some eggs with salsa, and sent a text to Jack. The old man and his wife were probably up and at it for the day. They’d always been early risers.
Cole’s parents had died in a car accident, and he hadn’t realized how much he missed them until he’d moved out of Brooke’s place—his place—to this apartment. Jack and Norah Prescott had been at their front door two floors below, embracing as though the older man were leaving for a safari through Africa and wouldn’t be home for weeks.
It had been odd enough to see an elderly couple embrace that way. It was even odder when, after they’d broken apart to greet Cole and ask if he was new here, Norah had told Jack to have a great day at work.
Not some remote vacation. Work. It turned out they were that affectionate no matter what the occasion, and Cole found he envied them. He’d also been instantly drawn by their friendly, welcoming manner.
“Where do you work?” Cole had asked, setting down his bags.
“Depends on the day,” Jack had said. “Today it’s laying tile at Tom Harris’s up the street. After that, who knows?”
“Jack of all trades, my Jack is,” Norah added with a toothy, cheeky grin, blushing of all things as though newly married.
He didn’t have a steady job? “Do you need work?” Cole had asked with concern.
Cole had just let off a man who’d
