Unfinished Ex (Calloway Brothers, #2)(51)

I offer my on-air smile as well as my hand. “Nicole Forbes. So nice to meet you, Ms…”

She shakes and one of the dogs sniffs my leg. “It’s just Denise.”

The expression on her face tells me my status might be more important than her suspicions. “So we’re all good?” I ask, still smiling.

“Pretty necklace,” she says. Then she turns and goes back down the walk.

Greeting me at the door is a happy dog. “Hello, Heisman.” I leave the key on the foyer table and pull a toy from the bag, snapping the tag off it. “Here you go.” I throw it across the hardwood floor, and he chases after it. “Let me mix up this casserole, and then we’ll go for a walk.”

I guess he recognized the word walk, because he drops the toy, sits in the doorway to the kitchen, and watches my every move, tail thwapping the hardwood.

“That ought to do it.” I set the oven timer for thirty minutes and take Heisman out the front door, pulling it closed behind me. “Shit!” I say, failing to stop it before it latches. I jiggle the handle. Yup— locked. I totally forgot the inside handle sometimes did that. We always swore we were going to have it replaced. I can’t believe he hasn’t after all this time. It’s the reason the key is under the rock.

Shortly after buying the house, we got locked out one night after a run. We were on a shoestring budget because I had an unpaid internship, and after-hours locksmiths were expensive. So we went around back and fell asleep on the lawn furniture. It started to rain in the middle of the night. We didn’t run for cover. We made love right there in the backyard in the rain. It's one of my favorite memories.

I peer down at Heisman. “Nothing we can do about it now. I just hope your dad is home within thirty minutes.”

Dad.

My heart lurches. I’ve never said the word out loud. I grab onto my pendant as we walk. Jaxon always wanted kids. Two girls, he’d say. None of that boy shit. I grew up with a bunch of cocky brothers.

I wonder what kind of father he would have been.

The best kind.

Twenty minutes later, Heisman and I wait on the front porch. I check my watch every few minutes. Finally, after another thirty-five, the familiar Honda pulls up.

“Hurry!” I say when Jaxon gets out.

“Where’s the fire?”

“Maybe in your house.”

He runs up the walk. “Seriously? And… what are you doing with my dog?”

“Long story. Just open the door, please.” He lets me in, and I race to the oven. Smoke plumes out when I open it. The smoke detector blares. Heisman barks. I throw the charred casserole into the sink and grab a dishrag, waving it in circles over my head to dissipate the smoke. When I look over at Jaxon, he’s bent over laughing. “You think this is funny?”

“It’s hilarious.”

I throw the dish towel at him. “You’re taller. You do it.”

After opening some windows and airing the place out, the piercing sound abates and Heisman calms.

Arms come around me and secure my back to his front. “You getting romantic on me, sneaking in and making dinner?”

I stare at the inedible remains of the casserole in the sink. “Looks like it was all for nothing.”

He squeezes me tighter. “Not for nothing.” My hair gets brushed aside, and his lips touch behind my ear. “I wasn’t really hungry. For dinner, anyway.”

Tingling sensations travel through me at the feel of his breath on my neck. “So you’re not mad?”

“Mad?”

“That I broke into your house.”

“Let’s see, you went to an actual public place, bought food, made dinner, and walked my dog.

No, Nicky, I’m not mad.”

The erection pressed into my backside tells me he’s being truthful. “Burned dinner is more like it.”

“We’ll order takeout.” He spins me around. “But first…”

I’m lifted onto the counter. Nimble fingers unbutton my blouse. The two halves gape open. He teases the exposed skin with his thumb, running it from my chin to the waistband of my pants, causing my skin to pebble.

“I love that I can do that to you.” His tongue follows the same line. “I love that I can do a lot of things to you.”

My pants get unbuttoned as his heated stare makes promises of what’s to come. I lift my butt off the counter, and he slips the clothes off my lower half, dropping them and my shoes onto the floor.

Heisman comes over, sniffs them, then takes off with my panties. Jaxon runs after him, retrieving the undergarment before exiling his dog to the backyard. Poor Heisman.

“Way to ruin the moment,” Jaxon gruffs before coming back into the room. Then he realizes I’ve added more clothes to the pile and am sitting completely naked on his counter, legs open just enough to be a tease.

“Fuck dinner,” he says. “Do this”— he strides over—“every day. Break in and do this.” He falls to his knees, still fully clothed, and puts his mouth on me.

The sensation of his tongue is overwhelming. He’s done this a dozen times since I’ve been back.

And hundreds, if not thousands, of times in the past. Yet he never fails to make it seem like the first time. Like it’s an unexpected gift he cherishes. Like he’s grateful somehow. Grateful for me—even after everything I did.