Page 41 of Clear Shot

“Well, I feel honored that you’re cooking for me even though these aren’t the protein ones.”

“Next time.”

Next time.

Because she plans to cook for me some more.

I turn to grab napkins just as she turns with two more pancakes on her spatula. I jostle her arm and she stumbles as the pancakes go flying. With one hand, I grab her around the waist, and with the other, I catch the pancakes.

For a moment we stare at each other and then burst out laughing.

She’s so damn pretty when she smiles. Or laughs. Or does just about anything.

“Sorry about that,” I say, my arm firmly around her waist.

“It’s all right.” She doesn’t move, merely gazes up at me with a look that’s not easily decipherable. It’s happiness and curiosity and…longing? Like she needs something.

Like she needs me to kiss her.

But I can’t.

I want to but I can’t.

Not until we’ve talked.

I glance at the pancakes in my hand and grimace. I’ve pretty much destroyed them. “I think these two are toast.”

“They’re fine.” She plucks them from my hand and drops them on her dish. “I’ll eat them. Now go eat before they’re ice pancakes.”

“All right.” I move away, slowly and reluctantly, but I plan to touch her as much as I possibly can the next couple of days.

Once we get past the hurricane I want to take her out on a date.

An honest-to-goodness romantic night out, just the two of us.

Andthenwe’re going to talk.

About compromise. Romance. The Future.

Our future.

My gut tells me it won’t be easy—nothing good ever is—but she’s worth it.

Chapter 15

Hana

The day goesby in a blur. Between cleaning up the kitchen, showering, packing, and helping Aiden close the storm shutters, it’s almost dinnertime before we’re ready to go. He dropped off our suitcase an hour ago, and now we’re doing one last check to make sure we’re not forgetting anything.

“I think we’re good,” Aiden says, hands on his hips.

“Then let’s go.” I grab my purse and drape it across my body so I won’t have to hold onto it while we’re on the motorcycle.

I’ve avoided riding with him since we got married because I enjoy it far too much. He took me riding a few times when we first met and there’s nothing like the feeling of being on the back of a motorcycle. The insides of my thighs pressed against his hips and upper leg. My arms around his waist, face against his back.

With the wind blowing through my hair and his strong body against mine, it’s heaven. If we could ride forever, I’d never get tired of it.

My hair’s in a ponytail now, though, and he hands me his extra helmet as we lock up the apartment and head down to the parking garage.