And while having Stephen around has satisfied that for him, I’ve been surprised to find just how much I enjoy the other man’s company, too. It shouldn’t be that shocking, given that he’s basically another Joel with a different face. An admittedly very attractive face…among other attributes.
I know I’m only human and all, and I can’t help physical attraction, but even so, I can’t help but feel guilty for the way I ogle my boss. It’s not like I have any intent to act on it or anything, I’m perfectly content in my relationship and have no desire to mess that up.
Judy’s happily coloring in her highchair and keeping me company while I put together dinner. Since we’ve ended up eating together pretty much every night this week anyway, last night we’d just agreed to hang out here for dinner and just chill and play games or watch something for the evening.
I’m just pulling the lasagna out of the oven and toasting up a batch of garlic bread when Stephen arrives home. “Oh, dear lord, it smells heavenly in here,” he moans as he steps through the door.
“Daddy!” Judy crows excitedly, squirming to escape her highchair.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he strides over to his daughter and scoops her out of the seat, lifting her high into the air.
She squeals in delight and he brings her down to smother her little face in kisses, and her peals of laughter would be enough to melt even the iciest of hearts. “Did you have a good day today?”
“Yeah! Look look look look!” she demands, pointing at her highchair and tugging on his arm.
“What am I looking at, honey, the pretty picture you drew?”
“Uh-huh,” she smiles gleefully.
“Wow, that’s beautiful! I think that needs to go up on the fridge.”
Her smile fades into a pout instantly and she looks at him as if he’s just made the dumbest suggestion on the planet. “Da-dee,” she chides him, “It’s not done!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, my mistake,” he says, and I can see the muscles in his cheek twitch as he fights to keep a straight face, “Well, I’ll let you finish it andthenit can go up on the fridge.”
She beams and nods, and he settles her back in her chair to make her masterpiece worthy of the illustrious Galleria De Refrigerator.
Chuckling, Stephen comes over to me. “How was she today?”
“She was great. Spent most of the afternoon playing with her dollhouse and ignoring me,” I laugh.
“Well, doesn’t look like you were too bored,” he remarks, looking at the pan of lasagna I’ve just set out, along with the bowl of salad I’ve chopped and prepped.
I shrug. “Are you complaining?” I tease.
“God, no. Never,” he laughs, “Just thanking my lucky stars Joel’s a generous man and I get to share in the bounty of your kitchen skills.”
My cheeks flame, but I beam under the praise. “See, you’re a smart man. You’ve learned not only the classic lesson ‘never mess with the people making your food,’ but you’ve taken it a step further with the flattery. That’s how you get nice things like extra cheese.”
We both laugh. I can’t get over how easily he’s slipped into our lives, it almost feels like we’ve known him for years.
“Oh, I brought over some wine,” I inform him, “Are you a wine drinker?”
He and Joel have bonded over some beers, and even discovered a shared love of a particular brand of Mexican rum. So it’s not much of a surprise when he nods. “Red okay?” I ask.
He nods again, “Definitely, I prefer reds.”
“I’m more of a white wine girl, myself, preferably the stuff that kind of tastes like hummingbird food,” I say with a sheepish smile, turning back to face the counter and peeling the foil off the bottle, “But every once in a while, especially with the right meal, you just need a good, rich red. Do you have wine glasses handy, or are they still packed or anything?”
He shakes his head and steps closer to me. My heart speeds up a little at his proximity. Fuck, he smells good. Whatever aftershave or cologne he wears complements him well, and it’s damn near mouthwatering. He leans over me to open the cabinet in front of me, reaching high over my head to retrieve three glasses from the top shelf.
His chest brushes against my back, his pelvis skimming my backside, and I know the contact is all innocent and accidental, but it still has my heart racing. I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
What’s wrong with me? Sure, he’s hot, but he’s my next door neighbor. My boss. And basically, my boyfriend’s best friend! My boyfriend ofeightfucking years, who I adore with my whole heart.
“Here we go,” he says, and maybe it’s my imagination, but it seems like his voice is…lower, hoarse.
I turn around and he’s still close, too close. I swallow, hard. For a moment, our gazes are locked, and I can’t bring myself to break away until there’s a knock at the front door.