Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club #1)(42)

“He must be. You two seem like night and day.”

“I suppose we are. I think he worries about turning out too much like her. I don’t want to badmouth my sons’ mom, but… Actually, she’s a cold-hearted bitch. I don’t have anything nice to say about her.” He grinned and took another drink.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Ouch. Tell me how you really feel.”

“You’ll see when you meet her. What about you? What’s your family like?”

“My parents are… well, they’re busy people. They retired and moved to Florida, but they also love to travel. They road trip around the country in their RV in the summer and go on cruises in the winter. And they always have some sort of project going on at their house. Remodeling, landscaping, gardening. I don’t think either of them knows how to sit still.”

“What about your sister? Just the one sibling?”

“Yep. Annie’s younger and basically perfect. She’s a successful CPA, married, settled. She’s very good at this whole adulting thing in ways that I’m not.”

“You seem like you’re doing just fine.”

I shrugged and started flipping the bacon. “I guess so. I like my life, but…” I trailed off because I was skirting too close to the truth, and the lie of my relationship with Shepherd. Because the truth was, I felt inadequate next to my younger sister. She’d found her person, gotten married, and was ready for a family. All things I wanted. All things I appeared to now have, but didn’t.

“Anyway,” I continued, trying to change the subject. “I think you’re right about Shepherd needing to get out. I’ll see what I can do.”

“That’s my girl.” He winked at me and rinsed his mug in the sink.

I sighed as he walked away, turning the bacon over again. The front door opened and shut—Richard leaving for his walk. My life was so weird right now.

Before I could get too lost in my feelings, I felt Shepherd’s presence behind me. I hadn’t even heard him approach, but he electrified the air, making the hair on my arms stand on end.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Hi.”

“Morning.”

His expression was disarmingly open. It was so subtle, if I hadn’t known him so well, I probably would have missed it. But there was a softness in his eyes, the hint of a smile on his lips. I could see emotion in his face, which was so rare it left me feeling a little jumpy and off-balance.

“Do you want some breakfast?” I asked, turning to face him.

That hint of a smile grew the tiniest bit. “Thanks. It smells good.”

“Ah, so it’s bacon that’ll get you to come out of your cave.”

“Bacon is very tempting.”

The way his eyes swept up and down when he said tempting sent a tingle down my spine. Great, now I was imagining things. Shepherd was not looking at me with lust in his gaze. He was here for the bacon, and it did smell good.

I quickly turned back to the pan and took the slices out, setting them on a paper towel to drain. My back prickled. Had he just stepped closer to me? Sure I was imagining things, I busied myself with laying more bacon in the pan, then washed my hands. I was almost afraid to look behind me. My heart beat faster and I had an almost uncontrollable urge to turn around and kiss him.

Focus, Everly. Breakfast.

But standing in the kitchen together with the smell of coffee and bacon in the air felt so intimate. Not in a sexual way. In a relationshippy way. Which was almost worse. This felt so natural. Like I could turn around and lean against the counter while we chatted about our upcoming week. Maybe he’d get close to me and nuzzle my neck or plant little kisses on my bare shoulder. I’d giggle and push him away, telling him I was going to burn breakfast.

My hands were still wet, but Shepherd was between me and the towel on the counter. This was so stupid. My feelings were spinning out of control and I needed to get a handle on them. Now.

I spun around, coming face to face with Shepherd. He was so close, as if he’d been inching toward me this whole time. His eyes went to my face—my mouth, to be specific. He didn’t move. Just stared at my lips.

Oh my god, this was happening. The world seemed to move in slow motion, the hiss and pop of the food on the stove fading from notice. I licked my lips—an involuntary movement—and Shepherd’s brow furrowed. I was already feeling melty inside and he hadn’t even touched me.

My lips tingled with anticipation. I lifted my chin, my heart beating fast. All the many reasons this was a terrible idea started running through my mind. But the intensity in Shepherd’s gaze silenced my thoughts.

Kiss me, Shepherd. Do it. I want you to.

His eyes widened. “Oh shit.”

He grabbed me around the waist, lifted me up and spun me around, setting me down behind him. Dizzy from the sudden movement—what had just happened?—I put a hand to my forehead and blinked.

Flames shot up from the pan. Shepherd quickly pulled a large baking sheet out of the cupboard. He put it on the pan, smothering the fire, and turned off the burner.

He whipped around. “Are you okay? Did you get burned?”

I touched the back of my hair and neck. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Let me see.”

Still disoriented, I turned so he could look at my back. “I really think I’m fine.”