Page 55 of My Best Friend's Dad

We’re totally silent for at least a moment that feels more like an hour.

Bellatrix rocks up on her toes and then falls back on her heels. “Uh, do you want more tea? I’m feeling a little parched myself.”

“Tea. Yes. That would be great.”

She’s only a few feet away in the small kitchen, filling the kettle, getting out more mugs, and measuring out the matcha powder to stir into each with the wooden whisk thing.

She’s not watching me, but I feel her presence. It’s all around this kitchen. The soft floral scent of her skin and hair, the strong matcha that tastes a little like swamp and old feet, but not in a bad way… Her laughter. Her smiles. Her books, her dishes, her things. This place is entirely hers, even when she thought it was soulless.

I finish trimming out the line I was doing, then stop and close my eyes, inhaling deeply.

Either I’m going for it, or I’m never going for it. I can’t just stay in this place in the middle.

When I climb down from the ladder, though, it’s notcan I take you on a real dateas Mika saidthat comes out. Instead, what comes out is much more impersonal and professional. “Mikatold me that you lost your job. I know it wasn’t really because of me, but I still feel responsible. I’d like to…to…no, that doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’d like you to come and work for me. At the hotel. In the lounge. Playing the piano. If you…if you’d like. People should hear you. You’re magic. I’ll pay you well, and then you won’t have to worry about rushing to find another job. You can take your time and still do something you enjoy in the interim.”

She spins around quickly without answering me, pours the water, and whisks madly. “I can’t do that.” Her soft response drifts up. “It’s a mercy offer.”

“It’s not a mercy offer!”

“Working for you would be complicated.” There’s anifthat she hasn’t tacked on, so I wait for it, frozen solid.

“How so?” After an eternity, I edge closer and push my finger through the handle of the mug, dragging it to the edge of the island.

Bellatrix stands by the sink, so there’s a good few feet between us. “It would be complicated if we were dating. Maybe.”

I don’t know what the maybe is. The dating part, or the complicated part. And maybe she doesn’t know either, but she’s the one who moves first. Her overalls swish with her big, hurried steps as she strides over to me, fists her hand in my shirt, and looks up at me. Her pupils are completely dilated, her lips soft and rosy and so inviting.

“I’d like to play you like I play the piano. I’d like to be magicwithyou.”

“Yes,” I hiss-squeal, sounding far too high-pitched. Is this really happening? I have only one honest response to give her, even if honesty isn’t always the best policy. Even if I should probably shut it down and use logic and reason andgoslow. “Magic with you sounds like the best thing ever.”

Chapter thirteen

Bellatrix

Rowleigh is the best magic. The growly sound that escapes from his parted lips is the best sound ever. His eyes are dark and smoldering, his blown pupils darkening his irises to coal.

I grasp his shoulders and make sure there’s not even room for air to pass between our bodies. He grins again, and when I surge up and press my mouth softly to his, his arms close around my back. He holds me close while he opens his lips for me, angling his face so he can turn the kiss into something that I feel all the way down to my toes.

“I missed you,” I mumble against his lips. “Even if we know nothing else, know that. It’s true. All of me missed this. Your hugs, your mouth, your smiles, the sound of your voice, your man smell.”

“Man smell?” he grunts. “That sounds kind of gross.”

“No,” I purr, arching up against him like an exceptionally needy feline. “It’s not gross at all.”

I rub my hand over his cheek. He’s sporting a young beard. “You didn’t shave.”

“Not since I left. I didn’t have the energy, and then…I kind of liked it.”

“I really like it.” I like how it scratches against my cheeks and rubs against my lips. The burn is delicious. I know I’d like it scratching other places. All the places.

His tongue parts my lips and finds mine. My knees get so wobbly that he turns me around so that I’m up against the island. He kisses me until I’m breathless, his tongue doing amazing tongue things that I didn’t even know existed. Then, he grasps my hips and sets me down on the counter, just far enough away from the mugs of tea so I won’t knock them over.

“Strip me naked and drink that matcha off my belly,” I murmur.

We both freeze. My hands are on his face, rubbing up and down his new beard. It’s like petting a shaggy dog in a good way.

“I…if you want to,” I add in a whisper.