A Kiss Like This (Kiss and Make Up #3)(44)

“They knew I was bringing you here,” Caleb mutters with what looks like a pout. “I should have known this would happen. They’re never going to let me get you alone. I have no privacy.”

Poor guy looks miserable.

I look back to our group of friends in the back of the room and swallow my snicker. They’re goofing off, and it’s pretty hilarious. Stephan is holding a wine glass, his pinky finger sticking in the air, overdramatically oozing class while Chelsea smacks him in the arm repeatedly, already lecturing him to “grow up.” My eyes also catch Weston smacking Molly in the butt, shouting, “Hee Yah!” before taking a dry paint brush and whisking it around her face, leering at her with a loud, “Just be glad it’s not my pee pee.”

She slaps him away with a loud laugh.

Oh boy.

Bravely, in a show of solidarity, I scoot my stool closer to Caleb’s. He immediately spreads his thighs so our legs touch and flexes his fingers over my thigh, rubbing his palm up and down over my jeans. We automatically—as if compelled by gravitational force—lean into each other, our lips touching briefly.

All I can say is wow!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Moving a little fast for a first date, don’t you think? Better slam on those brakes. And keep your grabby mitts where I can see them.” Stephan stands behind us, holding a wine glass, a beer, and a can of paint, his remarks directed at me. My eyebrows shoot up into my hairline as he leans in to say, “Yeah, I’m talking to you, Ms. Grabby Hands.”

I want to die.

Chelsea walks up, mortified. “Oh my gosh, I’m so, so sorry, Abby. Stephan, go back to our chairs and leave them be.” She grabs him by the arm and drags him to a nearby table.

He casts a glance over his shoulder at me and winks.

When Molly and Weston walk by with their supplies, Weston leans over and pokes Caleb in the nose with the tip of his paintbrush. “Boop!”

I can’t stop it; a burst of giggles bubbles up from deep inside and sneaks out.

“You think that’s amusing, huh?” Caleb mutters, watching me squirt some blue paint onto the pallet we’re sharing with a huge grin on my face. I add green, red, then white, before dabbing my brush into the water jar, blotting it on a rag.

“Oh, it was definitely amusing.” I beam up at him. “The look on your face was like a surprised dog getting his nose batted by a kitty cat paw.” I swipe at him and hiss. “Meow.”

Then something remarkable happens. Wait for it. Wait…

Caleb’s eyes crinkle, his head tips back, and a peel of laughter bursts out of him.

Laughing—he is laughing.

I can’t even do the sound justice. It’s an unhindered reaction; the baritone notes rumble out of his chest and are rich with emotion.

Caught off guard, I stare wide-eyed like deer in headlights at the long column of his corded neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he chokes out the deep roar, and his shoulders shaking. I catch glimpses of his gap and gleaming white teeth before he bites down on his bottom lip, and I want to tackle him off the stool, to the ground, and do naughty, naughty things to him.

Did you hear me? To. The. Ground.

Naughty, naughty things.

And this is me we’re talking about here. Ugh.

I look away to hide my furious blush, clearing my throat to disguise the fact that my thoughts have gone from only slightly lascivious to downright dirty. My nerves are creating absolute chaos to my lady parts. My body and mind are completely and utterly messed up—just from the sight of his unexpected laughter!

I love his laugh. It’s rich and full and sincere.

I love his frown. It’s real and thoughtful.

I love…

I…

I frantically dip my paintbrush back in the water, swirl it around for a few seconds, buying time as I select my paint color. Giving him a sidelong glance, I attempt to not undress him with my eyes.

Epic fail.

My blue eyes cannot help it; they are powerless against this side of him he only reveals sparingly, and if he were a smart person, now would be the opportune time for him to try and get in my pants.

I give him a feeble smile and gingerly take the wine glass in front of me by the stem, bring it to my lips, and take a teeny tiny sip.

Setting the glass back on the table, I consider what I’m about to say next, because it truly must be said. Inhale. Exhale. “That smile of yours… phew! It could get us both into big trouble.”

He bites his lip again and his brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

I weakly smile at the ceiling, unable to look directly at him. “I mean, that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

There. I said it.

I said it, it’s out there, and I can’t take it back.

When he doesn’t reply, I add, “Oh, please, don’t act so surprised. You know how irresistible that gap is.”

Nervously I slap more yellow on my canvas, aware that my painting has way too much yellow on it, dabbing it in circles like the instructor in front of the room is doing with small strokes. Only hers looks nice. My canvas is beginning to look like it’s been painted by a blind elephant at the zoo.

“It’s my kryptonite.”

Caleb’s brush hovers over his white canvas. “Huh?”

I pause and turn to face him, swiveling on my stool. Our knees knock and I lean forward so he can hear what I’m about to say, loud and clear. “I am mad for that gap. So stop hiding it.”