Meant to Be Mine (A Porter Family Novel Book #2) (32 page)

A
fter Celia tucked Addie into bed that night, she walked around her house, unsure what to do with herself. She ended up on her living room sofa. She propped her feet on the coffee table and clicked on the TV to a cooking show. Her brain, however, was so full of Ty that she couldn’t concentrate.

She’d had enough time now since The Kiss #2 to remember the reasons why she shouldn’t have done it.

On the other hand, no man other than Ty had kissed her since Vegas. She’d forgotten how incredibly—wildly, gloriously—heavenly it was.

Her phone buzzed to alert her to an incoming text.
You’re not second-guessing our kiss are
you?
Ty asked.

No
. Then she added,
You big showboat
.

I’m not second-guessing it either
.

She rested her phone against her abdomen and smiled.

A moment later, another buzz.
I can’t stop thinking about you,
he wrote.

Good night
, she typed.

Good night, sweet one.

It gave her a trembly fearful feeling inside to admit that she
hoped he’d kiss her again. If he did, she had every intention of kissing him back.

Kissing, she rationalized, was fairly harmless. Right? She wouldn’t place her heart in his hands this time around. And she’d make sure they were very, very careful not to let Addie see.

If she went into it with those things in mind, then it ought to be fine to kiss Ty now and then. No strings attached. Just the pleasure and none of the pain.

Celia carried the paint and supplies she’d purchased into Cream or Sugar on Sunday. She stuck a Norah Jones CD into the boom box Donetta used to listen to baseball coverage, then helped Addie set up the jewelry making kit she’d been given for her birthday. While Addie strung beads, Celia took down the cheap donut prints and moved furniture. It took a while to measure the walls and calculate the width of the wide toffee- and white-colored stripes she envisioned. That done, she began the long job of taping.

She’d chosen to skip church this morning for two reasons. One, she only had today to paint and would need every hour to get the job done. Two, she wasn’t sure God would approve of the twist her relationship with Ty had taken. She didn’t know what He would disapprove of, exactly. She simply had the sense that she ought to feel badly about some aspect of it.

She’d balanced herself on a step stool and was reaching up to press painter’s tape against the wall when Ty walked in.

He looked up at her, eyes sizzling. Oh, the male beauty of him in a baseball cap and his gray Under Armour T-shirt and jeans.

A blush raced up her neck to her face.

“Daddy!”

He turned to Addie, and the two of them talked about her jewelry-making.

Celia returned to taping, her skin positively flaming. Suave, she thought. So subtle, Celia!

After some self-debate, she’d decided to wear a loose navy top over a cami plus her jean shorts. She wouldn’t dare get her new boots near paint, so she’d left them in the kitchen. The ridges of the stool’s step pressed against the soles of her bare feet.

“Hey, Celia?”

“Mmm?” A strangled sound.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?” When she glanced over, he shifted his head toward the kitchen. “In there?” The wicked curl at the edge of his lips told her exactly what he had in mind.

She poised on the edge of decision, then clambered down and followed him. “What have you been up to this morning, Ty? I made pancakes and then—”

The second they were out of sight, he pulled her to him and kissed her. The pleasure of it slammed into her.

He walked them both across the kitchen without letting up. He lifted his head just long enough to shove open the pantry door with his boot.

“You’re taking me into the pantry?” she stage-whispered, laughter in her voice.

“I’m desperate.” He drew her into a room twice the size of a coat closet and filled with the scent of flour. “My family might show up any minute. I want to get in my chance at this before they get here.” He pulled the string attached to the overhead light, clicking it on. As if he’d been doing it all his life, he linked his hands behind the small of her back.

The man really did have towering confidence. There wasn’t a shred of awkwardness or hesitation in his manner.

“You smell good,” he said.

“So do you.” That woodsy aroma got her every time.

He nuzzled his face into her hair, then pressed light kisses to her neck, jaw, and cheek before finally reaching her mouth. Celia arched into him, kissing him. She even stepped on top of his boots in her bare feet, then lifted to her tiptoes.

She let the escalating joy of it continue for a couple of minutes. Five? Within his embrace it was hard to have any sense of time.
Who could care about the future when they had
this
between them?

She finally did force herself to end it, because she hadn’t forgotten that Addie sat in the next room and that his family was due to arrive momentarily.

She plunked her forehead against his chest, hardly able to believe the masterful way he had of turning her body into liquid heat. “So I guess this means that yesterday’s kiss wasn’t a one-time thing.”

“Not hardly.” His voice sounded deep and sexy.

“There’s just one thing I ask.” She looked him in the eyes. “So long as you’re kissing me, I request that you not kiss anyone else.”

He quirked a brow. “I haven’t kissed anyone since Las Vegas. I’m not going to start now.”

“Tawny likes you, Ty.”

“Tawny’s dating a pediatrician.”

“Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal. Does the same go for you? You’re not going to kiss that tool, Neill?”

“No. Ty?”

“Yes?”

She sighed with regret. “I think we’d better leave the pantry.”

His fingertips grazed lightly up the back of her neck. “I don’t want to.”

“Any longer and your parents might be standing in the kitchen when the two of us walk out of here together.”

He resettled his baseball cap, his expression ornery, humorous, disgruntled. “Who cares?”

“I care! Listen, we’ve got to be very careful not to let Addie see us like this or do anything at all that would make her suspect.”

“I know.”

“Then help me out. Be . . . covert.”

As intent as a chess player, he ran a thumb down her neck, then her arm, all the way to her hand. He interlaced their fingers. “I’m not good at pretending.”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve seen you shovel more dung than the
people walking behind the elephants at a circus. You pretend with every woman you meet: the heavy-handed compliments, the appreciative banter, the smile. You don’t mean any of it.”

He appeared ready to break into laughter.

“I’ve got you figured out,” she stated.

“And you still like me?”

“Just this much.” She held her thumb and pointer finger half an inch apart.

“I think you like me more than that.”

“We need to leave the pantry now.” She’d have gladly stayed in the pantry with him all day. It made her happy—foolishly, excitedly happy—just to have Ty look at her this way, talk to her this way, hold her hand this way. And yet, the real world waited.

Channeling her inner Bond girl, Celia eased open the pantry door and peeked out. The coast was clear.

Within minutes the Porter Family Help Squad began to arrive. First Jake—not a churchgoer, apparently. He and Ty filled nail holes and groove marks with putty, then started painting. Nancy, John, Bo, and Meg came after church. Nancy brought lunch, and once they’d all taken a break to eat the picnic-style food, they worked side by side.

For every second of the day, Celia’s attention tracked Ty. She meditated over the timbre of his voice. She noticed the muscles running along his spine, the strength in his wrists. Her tummy lifted with delight each time their eyes locked.

At one point he drew near to her with his paint roller. “You going to run off and hide behind Uncle Danny this afternoon?”

“Yes,”
she answered sincerely. “He needs us.”

“I need you.”

“He needs us more.”

On Monday, Celia went to work at a freshly painted Cream or Sugar. The interior walls of the bakery fairly glistened with beauti
ful new stripes. Though Donetta felt honor bound to grouse about the change, Celia could tell that she approved.

After Donetta and Jerry left for the day, Ty arrived. While Celia baked, he found numerous reasons to lean against the wall and watch her make pecan pie. Twice he succeeded at whipping off her hairnet. Both times he proceeded to kiss her senseless.

The next day Celia transported her collection of teacups and saucers to the bakery. She’d purchased them one at a time over the years at flea markets. Not one cup and saucer matched any other, yet Celia had always found them charming. It pleased her to give her dine-in customers the option of not only caff or decaf, but also Styrofoam or china.

“Those cups,” Ty drawled, “are so girly that no man will ever drink coffee out of them.”

“Any man secure in his masculinity will be happy to drink from them.”

“How much coffee do they hold? A tablespoon?”

“In my opinion, they hold the perfect amount.”

“What do you know? You’re tiny. You’re so tiny you could take a bath in one of these.” He held up a white teacup painted with pink rosebuds. “Go on. Jump in.” He tilted it toward her. “Water’s warm.”

She laughed. “You have an underdeveloped sense of class.”

“There’s one classy thing I appreciate.” He met her gaze and held it until she looked away. “How about you let me buy you your own coffee shop?” he asked. “Instead of working for someone, you’ll be the owner.”

“That’s very sweet. But no. Definitely no. You know how I feel about your compulsion to buy things for me. I want to make my own way and earn my own success.”

“Well, that’s a bummer.”

“Secondly, I love Cream or Sugar. No other coffee shop would have a spot on the square, or these amazing hardwood floors, or this soda counter.” Protectively, she settled her hand on the old-fashioned
display case. “You may not have noticed, but I like old and kitschy things.”

“I noticed.”

“This shop is one-of-a-kind. As soon as I convince Donetta to buy an espresso machine it’ll have everything I could hope for. I couldn’t duplicate it in a strip mall.”

During a quiet moment between customers and right after she’d set a batch of macaroons out to cool, he convinced her to visit Cream or Sugar’s second story. Donetta and Jerry used most of the upper square footage for storage, the rest for an office.

Ty only needed the hallway. From there, they could hear if customers arrived, but could be seen by no one.

More kissing senseless.

When Holley’s mayor interrupted them by stopping in for his daily chocolate glazed, Ty left to wait on him. Celia remained in the hallway, clinging to the wall because her legs had gone woozy.

Mothering Addie had brought Celia enormous joy. But it had always been a joy closely accompanied by responsibilities. Was she doing this mothering thing right? Could she afford to keep a roof over Addie’s head? Would Addie get sick this flu season?

The sort of dizzy, soaring joy Ty brought into Celia’s life was totally unfamiliar to her. Which might be why she was having a hard time trusting it.

It’s fine
, she kept telling herself.
Your finances are
under control. Addie is flourishing at school. So what if
a bone-meltingly handsome man kisses you occasionally? It’s
fine
.

She’d been working hard, after all, to keep Ty in his proper place in her emotions. He was fun and thrilling, but he was not to be loved in
that
kind of way, the disastrous kind of way.

Inside Cream or Sugar’s pantry, she’d told him that while the two of them were kissing each other, she expected him to kiss her only. Then she’d stated the obvious: that Tawny liked him. He’d answered with,
“Tawny’s dating a pediatrician
.
”

He hadn’t said,
“I don’t care about Tawny anymore. I
only care about you
.
”