Mitch had said something similar, but before I could say anything about it, Simon’s face cleared, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Come on, your eggs are getting cold.” He dropped a kiss on my shoulder and took my hand. “You promised me a story, remember? It’s your turn.”

I let him lead me back to the kitchen, where he’d laid a second place mat on the table, and between forkfuls of a very good omelet, I filled Simon in on some of the details of April’s accident. Well, not the accident itself, but its aftermath.

“So she doesn’t drive at all?”

“Not since she got out of the hospital. She tried a couple times, but she freezes up when she’s behind the wheel.” I got up from the table to refill my coffee mug. “I mean, I don’t blame her. T-boned at a major intersection? I think I’d see that every time I closed my eyes.” I held up the carafe in invitation, but he shook his head, so I sat back down at the table across from him.

“Anyway, getting back to normal seems to be helping her. She went back to work recently, and her mood improved big-time. Maybe now that she’s driving it’ll be another step. But I’ll feel better when I know she’s made it there okay.” I sipped from my mug and closed my eyes in appreciation. “You make excellent coffee. I’ll be over every morning for this.”

“Please do.” His gaze lingered on mine, and I knew he wasn’t just offering coffee. My smile widened, letting him know I’d be happy to take him up on that offer.

My phone buzzed on the table. April had sent a selfie of herself in her work parking lot, thumbs-up in front of her SUV. Made it! When I put the phone down it was like a weight fell off my shoulders. More importantly a veil had been lifted from my eyes. I replayed the last hour or so in my head and my heart sank. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an asshole.”

He was surprised into a laugh. “What? Since when?”

“Since I didn’t even say good morning.”

“Oh.” He raised his coffee mug at me in salute. “Well, good morning.”

“No. Not like that.” I got up and went to his side of the table, and he scooted his chair back a little so he could turn to me as I did. I ran a hand through his hair—this was a thing I got to do now—and bent to kiss him. Slowly. Softly. Thoroughly. “Good morning,” I said through our kiss, pronouncing the words deliberately.

He smiled against my lips. “Good morning.” He pulled me into his lap until I straddled both him and the kitchen chair. “Much better. I’ll admit I was worried for a minute there.” His fingers stroked slowly up my back, learning each ridge of my spine. “When you jumped out of bed and started throwing on your clothes before I’d even woken up, it was like you’d realized what a mistake you’d made.”

I blinked. “Mistake?”

“You know. Sleeping with the enemy and all that.” His voice was light, almost teasing, but his eyes had this edge to them I didn’t like.

I cupped his cheek in my hand, watching the way his expression softened the more we touched. I wanted to crawl into him, become part of him so he would never feel alone again. But I didn’t know how to tell him that without it sounding like the world’s creepiest Valentine’s card so instead I kissed him again, pouring everything I felt into it. I told him I couldn’t even remember a time that I’d thought of him as the enemy. I told him how much it meant to have someone in my life now who wanted me for me, and not for what I could do for him.

He tasted like coffee, smooth and dark and rich, and I remembered something Chris had said once about Simon being an acquired taste. She was right. I was hooked.

Eighteen

When I pulled into the driveway later that morning there were two texts on my phone. One from Caitlin, telling me she was riding her bike into town to meet some friends, and a second from a number I didn’t recognize.

Thanks for the rum.

Warmth spread in my chest, in time with the smile on my face. I couldn’t reply fast enough.

Thanks for the coffee.

I added Simon’s number to my contacts and slipped my phone into my pocket before I did something stupid like turn around and go back to his house. But my head was too full of confusion, and I was grateful the house was empty for the day. April would come home tonight with a million questions, and before she did I needed to figure out what to tell her. I needed to get my head around what had happened between Simon and me.

Now that I was home, those hours in Simon’s house, in Simon’s bed, seemed like a life apart, removed from the rest of the world. As I went back to my everyday routine, a low-level panic crept into my blood. He’d said he didn’t want a one-night stand, but lots of guys said things like that, didn’t they? Especially when they already had the girl naked and in their bed. Things could look awfully different by daylight. He’d seemed so sincere at breakfast, but when I’d left he hadn’t mentioned seeing me again. That text hadn’t exactly opened a door, either. Or was I expecting too much? I was way out of practice here.

By the time April and Caitlin were both home and dinner was on the table, it was safe to say my head was still a mess. So I did what I did best. Pushed down my feelings and focused on the people around me.

“So how do you feel?” I asked April. She hadn’t said anything about her first day of driving since her accident.

“I’m okay.” She reached for a piece of bread. “If you want to know the truth, I think I waited too long. I kept waiting to freak out and it never happened.” She shrugged. “So honestly, the whole thing was kind of anticlimactic.”

“I don’t know, I think that’s good. Boring is better than scary.”

“True.” She huffed out a laugh. “I think I can use some boring for a while. At least as far as I’m concerned. So let’s talk about you instead.”

I blinked innocently. “Me?”

“You. Did you get laid last night or what?”

I nearly spit my iced tea across the table. “April!” I jerked my head toward Caitlin, who looked at the both of us with wide eyes.

“Is that where you were?” Caitlin asked. “I thought you went somewhere after you took Mom to work.”

“I am not talking about this now.” I crossed my arms.

“Oh, yes, you are,” April said. “Caitlin’s not a child. Well, she is. You are,” she told her. “Don’t go thinking you can pull this kind of shit for a long, long time. Like maybe when you’re in your thirties.”

“No fair! Em isn’t that old, and she gets to—”

“Have some more salad.” I shoved the serving bowl at my niece.

But April wouldn’t let it go, and turned back to me with bright eyes. “Did you pick up someone at Jackson’s last night? That’s where you went, right?”

“Yes. But no . . .” I sighed. “I went to Jackson’s, but I didn’t pick up someone. I . . .”

“Wait.” April snapped her fingers and looked at Caitlin. “You said some guys were fighting over her at Faire? It’s the hot coach, isn’t it? The one that wears a kilt?”

I put down my fork. “Okay, these are Caitlin’s teachers we’re talking about here.” April was pretty permissive in her parenting, but this was bordering on weird. Should Caitlin be here for this conversation?

“He’s not my teacher.” Caitlin shook her head and reached for her glass of milk. “I had Ms. Simmons for gym.”

“See?” April said. “Not her teacher. So spill.”

I sighed. I wasn’t getting out of it. “No. It’s not Mitch. It’s . . . it’s Simon.” My skin buzzed just speaking his name. Damn, I had it bad.

April blinked, her expression blank. “Who?” But Caitlin gasped and dropped her fork.

“Seriously? You’re going out with Mr. G?”

Technically I hadn’t gone out with Simon; a hookup didn’t count as a date. But I didn’t correct Caitlin, because it was close enough.

April peered at me. “Then why don’t you look happier about it? Do you like the guy?”

“I do.” I had a flash of memory of straddling his lap at the kitchen table, sinking into his kiss, and I had to blow out a breath. “I really do.”

“So what’s the problem? When are you seeing him again?” She frowned when she took in my expression. “Oh. Okay. Caitlin, you’re excused.”

“But you said I could hear . . .”

“I lied. I need to talk to your aunt. If you go watch TV with the volume up, I’ll do the dishes, but you better go now before I change my mind.”

That did it. Caitlin was out of her seat faster than I’d ever seen her move. She paused by my chair on her way out. “If you’re still going out with Mr. G when he’s my English teacher, I’ll get a better grade, right? Don’t break up with him and screw up my GPA, okay?”

“Out!” April bellowed, and Cait was gone. She turned to me, her expression serious again. “Was this a onetime thing?”

I groaned. “I don’t know. I’m not . . .” I stabbed at my salad, taking my frustration out on the lettuce. “I’m not good at this kind of thing.”