Page 96 of Sterling Touch
The time also offered me the freedom to sneak toCort’s house.
Even though I have a key, I hadn’t planned on using it. I intended to knock. But Cort was already walking out his front door when I arrived as if he’d been anticipating me, as if he’d been as eager to see me as I was to see him.
I fight the urge to run up his front walk and throw myself at him, like a giddy teen. His bad back and injured knee are a reminder that catching me wouldn’t be a good idea for him. Still, as I step up his stoop, he reaches for me and pulls me toward him by my hip, cups the side of neck and welcomes me back to his home with a searing kiss.
“Hi,” I eventually say, pulling away to break the temptation to wrap my legs around him and dry hump him on his front porch.
“Hi.” He swipes back my hair, holding it at the base of my neck. After pressing a kiss to my forehead, he releases me and sweeps his arm toward the open front door. “Come on in.”
Once inside, I kick off my shoes, making myself comfortable like I have on so many of our lunch dates.
“It’s such a beautiful night and I have a hankering for burgers. Is that alright with you?”
“As long as you’re cooking, I’ll eat whatever you make.” I make meal decisions most days, then prep them and clean up afterward. It’s nice not to have to decide what’s for dinner once in a while.
A wine bottle already sits out on the countertop and Cort points toward it. “I can pour you a glass, but I was also thinking a margarita might go better with a burger.”
“Cortland Haven, are you trying to make me love you?” I laugh until I see Cort’s brows pinch. Licking my lips, I immediately backpedal. “I mean, you know, in the you-make-a-mean-margarita kind of love.”
Cort arches one brow and leans against the kitchen island. “I didn’t know there was such a way to love someone.”
“Oh, yeah,” I dismissively wave a hand, as my cheeks grow warmer and warmer.
Cort only shakes his head and offers me a lopsided smile, humoring my ridiculousness.
“A margarita it is then.” He turns toward the opposite counter and begins making the drink from scratch. None of that pre-mixed combination I buy because I don’t need an entire bottle of tequila in my house. He even salts the rim, and adds lots of ice, and I’m grateful I don’t have to drive home tonight.
At least, I hope I’m not going home.
Turning back toward me, Cort hands me the margarita in a tall glass and taps his against mine before we each take a sip.
“Dang, that’s good,” I hum in appreciation.
However, Cort’s attention is on my wrist. “What’s that?”
I glance down at the bracelet I’m wearing. A silver band with a bee charm dangling from it.
“Oh, this?” I brush off the gift. “Every year, Ken sends me a gift for Mother’s Day.”
Cort’s arms are spread, bracing him on the island opposite me, and he arches a brow at the explanation. He remembers who Ken is and his absence.
“The first anniversary, if you will, of my being a mom, I got a beehive starter kit from him.” I’m reminded once again how I’d thought it was such a strange gift for a busy new mom.
“Most years the gifts are impersonal but always themed around bees.” A beeswax candle making kit. A journal with a bee on it.
Cort lowers his head, the corner of his mouth ticking upward. I can’t decide if mentioning Ken’s thoughtfulness lands like a brick between us, or if Cort is pleased by the kindness.
I jangle my wrist. “Then, last year this gift arrived. Must have marked the end of an era. Ten years as a mother. Ken didn’t send something this year.”
Mother’s Day passed a while back.
“Just this final gift. An Alex & Ani bracelet with a little bee?—”
Glancing back at the charm dangling from the thin silver bangle, I finger the delicate insect.All bee-themed items. Little Bee. When Ken didn’t know the nickname. Didn’t know a thing about Cort and the tag he’d given me.
Snapping my head upright, I stare at Cort standing on the other side of the island, head bowed.
“Cortland,” I whisper, my throat suddenly thick. “It was never Ken, was it?”
