Within minutes, he lost two more hands and the last of his matches. He tossed in his cards. "I give."
"How about some hot chocolate?"
"Trying to soothe my wounded ego?"
"Not really. I'm going to fix myself some and thought it only polite to offer."
"Hot chocolate sounds good."
Claire heated two mugs of milk in the microwave while Dillon found the chocolate mix and spoons. The edginess returned. He felt it like a live electrical wire stretched across the room between them. Standing next to her at the counter, he watched her pour a packet of chocolate into each mug.
"You're trembling," he softly observed.
Her spoon clattered against the rim of her mug. He couldn't read her face because she held her head tipped away from him. "I haven't been sleeping well," she said, a tightness in her voice that hadn't been there a minute ago. "I guess the race being so close has made me jumpy."
Dillon figured her comment was a diversion and played along. "Did you get your booties done?"
She gave a wan smile. "Only half a bazillion more to go."
He raised his mug in a toast. "Here's to dog booties."
"To dog booties." She touched the rim of her mug to his and took a cautious sip.
Dillon did the same. Once she lowered her mug, he took it from her and set it on the counter next to his own. Her eyes met his, wide and too damn vulnerable. He slid an arm around her waist and coaxed her to him. She was slender beneath her chunky sweatshirt, but not fragile. He imagined the feel of her long legs wrapped around him. He risked brushing his lips over her cheek and heard her breath catch. Her lack of resistance compelled him to kiss her.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish