Page 39 of Miss Understanding

I also couldn’t believe I’d hugged the man for whom I’d made a list of ways he could suffer. My, how times had changed. I’d gone from loathing to sympathizing. And now that I’d managed a peek behind the curtain, I could understand a lot more about what drove him. I could also see his absolute sincerity when he’d apologized for his behavior.

Although he’d said I could trust in him, I wondered if it had been a good idea to confide that I worked for the Cheetah Club. Or to have told him about my former boss groping me. I blamed my loose lips on the alcohol I’d consumed tonight. Yet despite having revealed those things, I sensed we were in a much better place. It was almost like learning about one another had opened up the door for—well, a sort of connection. Maybe friendship?

Yet the little voice in my brain asked if I thought of my other friends naked.

Nope. I sure didn’t.

Nor would I think of my boss that way. Not pressing me into the mattress with his body weight. Not his delicious abs I’d practically drooled over when he’d come back from his run. Not his piercing eyes locked on mine. Not the feel of his warm lips against my skin. Shit.

Ugh. What I needed was sex. The good kind. I’d had a high school boyfriend during my final two years, and then there was a guy I’d dated about a year ago, but the sex had left a lot to be desired.

Although I had plenty of offers every working weekend at the club, I wasn’t a girl who did sex without feelings. Someday, perhaps when I had more time to meet quality guys, I hoped to have a relationship. Meet a man with whom I could plan a future with and eventually have children. But for now, I had the responsibility for my grandmother’s care and was busy trying to finish my degree.

The next morning while I was making breakfast, Liam came into the kitchen dressed casually in jeans and a dark gray sweater.

“What are these?” he asked, watching me flip the pancakes.

He seemed more relaxed than I’d seen him all week. Perhaps our talk last night had helped break the ice of the previous formality.

“Snowman pancakes.” I’d done three circles in the batter, then was fixing bacon as a scarf and blueberries and chocolate chips for eyes and buttons.

“How many are you making?” He was staring at the large pile accumulating on the plate.

“A few. Your sister texted this morning and sort of invited herself and the girls over for breakfast. Hope you don’t mind?”

He only smiled. “No, I don’t mind at all. She likes you.”

“I like her. And your nieces are adorable.”

“Agreed. They’ll love these pancakes.”

Ten minutes later, both girls were at the table squealing at my snowmen.

“These pancakes are so cute. Will you teach me how to make them?” Allison asked.

“Of course.” We did a quick lesson in which I showed her snowmen and Mickey Mouse shapes.

“These are amazing. So, Kendall, I’m curious. You want kids?”

I wasn’t sure why I found myself blushing. It was an easy answer. “Yeah. At least three or four of them someday.” What could I say? Being an only child had made me always wish for siblings.

We both looked over toward Liam, who was holding the baby on his lap and choking on his OJ. Weird.

She gave him a smile. “You okay, little brother?”

“Yes. But stop matchmaking.” His handsome face was a shade of pink while his sister was the picture of innocence.

I was confused. “Matchmaking who? Me?”

Allison smiled. “I just thought maybe you and my brother.”

My mouth hung open. No wonder her brother was choking on his drink. “No. We’re not. I mean we don’t.” Shit, I couldn’t seem to form complete sentences. Maybe because I’d had quite the vivid dream last night of him in my bed.

“I’m not her type,” he offered up.

What the hell? “Yeah, and he’s my boss.” Did he forget about that part?

“What’s your type?” Allison inquired.