One Funeral (No Weddings Book 2) (4 page)

I snorted. “Gee, thanks.”

“Hey, we’re like kindergarten buddies. We’re not allowed to cross the street unless we’re holding hands. Only ours isn’t a busy intersection. It’s more like an emotional obstacle course. No one said worthwhile was easy. But if we want to make this work bad enough, it will.”

I sighed, gazing at this gorgeous man with the wounded heart. “If you think therapy would help me get past all this anxiety about us, I’ll try it.”

Only I was fairly certain I wasn’t the only one who needed professional fixing. My destruction might have happened at the altar, but his happened while on bended knee.

I gave him a sidelong glance. “Forget the knee-bouncing pill. For our level of fucked-up, we’re gonna need to clean out a pharmacy.”

An intense look in his eyes, he gave me a gentle smile. “And if we need to slow things down while we’re figuring things out, I’m good with that. But I have a feeling we’re already better than we think we are.”

I stared at him, unable to form a response. Were we? Were all my fears unjustified, getting in the way of my seizing true happiness? The more I thought about it, the more tangled the mess in my head became. I frowned.

Cade snapped his fingers. “Enough. No more talking or thinking about serious stuff tonight.”

I nodded, thankful he’d pulled me out of the spiral. “Okay.”

He smiled, then leaned forward across the table, staring at me, waiting.

I leaned forward too, meeting him halfway so our faces were mere inches apart.

He clasped hands with mine. “Now tell me more about us being naked together in your cupcake meadow.”

O
ur semi-disaster of a date ended with a sweet kiss. We didn’t talk any further about my issues that night. But over the phone late Sunday night, we discussed therapy more seriously and the need to take things as slow as necessary to be able to move forward. After which, I voiced my worry about just how slow that would be. A dead crawl?

On Tuesday, Cade sat in the front lounge of Sweet Dreams, wedged into the corner of the couch, his laptop perched on his lap. A lock of hair had fallen onto his forehead, but he seemed oblivious to it.

Oblivious to me
.

I’d brought him a Pellegrino, sat it on the table next to his sample plate of cupcakes, and took a seat across from him. All with zero reaction.

Then out of the blue, as if we’d been carrying on a conversation all along, he tossed a reply out into thin air. “So we decide to non-date.” On a brief glance up, mischief glittered in his eyes, but the rest of his expression was dead serious.

“Non-date?”

“Sure. We’re together, but not dating.”

I narrowed my eyes, suspicious of where he was going with his suggestion, but he no longer looked at me. With nonchalance, he clicked away on his keyboard, as if the entire topic was a “non-thing.”

I leaned back, playing along. “Sure. Let’s non-date. I’m good with that.” His suggestion had to stem from our discussion about taking things slow, so I gave him a little leeway—even if I did so with attitude.

His fingers froze. Tilting his head, he glanced at me. “Let me be more specific. We will spend time together, but they won’t be considered dates. Take the pressure off.” Then he returned to whatever masterpiece he was drafting, as if the subject was closed.

Taken aback by his commanding tone, I arched a brow. “What are you suggesting? More time than our existing dinners three nights a week and work functions?”

The three nights a week had been an arrangement we’d made where I cooked dinner at his place for Cade, Mase, and Ben. Then for an hour or more afterward, Cade advised me in a business capacity with regard to Sweet Dreams. His quick mind and creativity, along with his ongoing master’s-level education, made him an excellent business consultant. He was invaluable to me and my start-up cupcake shop.

Finally, he closed his laptop and turned his full attention toward me. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk about that too. The terms need to be renegotiated.”

I snorted at the smooth way he suggested I’d brought up the topic—which I had.

Sneaky Devil.

Crossing my arms, I stared hard at him. “Do tell.”

“We’re spending too much time at my house. Why don’t we do Sundays and Wednesdays at my house?”

I connected the dots. “And Mondays at my house.”

He grinned. “Fabulous. See, I knew you’d agree.”

Straightening in my chair, I shook my head. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

His electric-blue eyes gleamed. “Sure you did. Oh, and Fridays too.”

I gaped, brows furrowing. “Fridays too, what?”

“Fridays at your place.”

Somehow I’d lost total control with his attempts at confusing me. I glared at him. “Was I supposed to drink an extra cup of coffee this morning? What are you talking about?”

“Follow along, Maestro.” He had the audacity to grin. “We’re setting up our non-dates. Sundays and Wednesdays are at my place, Mondays and Fridays at your place. Saturdays will be for Invitation Only parties, or planning for them at my place or Kristen’s.”

We usually conducted event planning at his oldest sister’s house, which I was fine with. I stared at him, contemplating the additional day he suggested. The existing three nights worked well with our busy schedules; we both had to eat, and the business consulting was often minimal suggestions from him after which I worked on them on my tablet while he studied for his master’s courses.

He arched a brow. “Do you need me to grab a wall calendar to mark this all down? What kind would you like? Cute puppies or rural landscapes?” The corners of his lips twitched.

“Naked firemen.” I plucked a dark chocolate cupcake from his untouched plate, then leaned back while I made a great production of peeling the wrapper off one crinkle at a time.

He waved his hand dismissively, as if I was joking.

Or that naked men on my wall weren’t an option.

Feeling defiant, I made a mental note to order calendar pornography ASAP, just to rile him. “So no Tuesdays or Thursdays? You left a couple of days off of your monopoly of my schedule.”

“Nice, smartass.” He narrowed his eyes, then fought a smirk. “You know, we could do Tuesdays and Thursdays too. Then we’d have every day of the week covered.”

I struggled not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the conversation and his retaliatory suggestion. And yet the more he went on with his master plan, the more adorable he became.

He dropped his gaze back down to me. “You know I have class those nights. So it would be late, around 9:30 p.m., before I could make it over. Want to make those movie nights?”

I opened my mouth, but in his out-of-control scenario, my snarkiness abandoned me.

His gaze grew heated. “Could I spend the night if we fall asleep?”

Exasperated, I beaned a cupcake at him.

He caught it with a grin as crumbs fell into his lap and pale yellow icing coated his hand. Never one to let a good cupcake go to waste, he made quick work of demolishing the thing, licking his palm clean.

My focus drifted to those slow licks across his palm. How he paid special attention to the nook in between his fingers. How he sucked in a coated knuckle and held it there while he closed his eyes, savoring the taste.

When he opened his eyes, he flicked a glance at me.

Bastard
.

I swallowed hard, then I took a deep breath and looked out the front window, trying to calm my racing heart. Cade knew I’d fall for his blatant tease. How I’d get caught up in the sexual heat between us that we both knew was there but pointedly ignored—for the time being.

“No. No Tuesdays. No Thursdays.” We needed time away from each other in there somewhere. His playful ego seemed to rule our crazy conversation.

But no matter how badly I wanted to snub his suggestion of bogarting my time, the idea of a night at my place and adding Fridays had serious merit. And chilling out the expectations between us while increasing the time we spent together was actually a good idea for emotionally handicapped people like us. We needed to get to know one another and build trust both in ourselves and in our budding relationship, but we also needed to take all the pressure off.

I slid a glance back toward him. “How about we do one dinner a week at my place and some Friday nights, but no commitment to Tuesdays or Thursdays? If we want to hang those nights, we’ll decide spur-of-the-moment.”

He smirked. “Spontaneous. I like this side of you, Maestro. Done.”

Leaning back into his corner of the couch, he flipped open his laptop again and clicked on his keyboard, brows furrowed in concentration.

I got up, dusting my hands free of cupcake crumbs, needing to process the new information. We’d gone from spending three nights a week together, mostly in the mixed company of his friends or sisters, to attempting nearly every night of the week, with two of them being us alone.

“Hannah?”

I turned back around. He’d put the laptop aside, and his attention was squarely on me. Without taking his gaze from me, he stood, strode over, and wrapped his arms around me. “I want you to know, I’m seriously looking forward to our non-dating.”

The intensity sparking in his eyes startled me, stuttering my heart. I smiled up at him. “I am too. By the way, I scheduled my first therapy appointment for tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully some sessions there, plus our non-dating, will help us get to the actual dating.”

“I’d like that.” He gave me a gentle smile. “Could we clarify something?” His expression held a rare vulnerability.

In support, I tightened my hold on him.
This
was the kind of therapy we needed. To be real with each other when necessary, and to know the other one had your back. “Of course.”

“Let’s promise
not
to non-date anyone else.”

My lips twitched. “So we’re
exclusively
non-dating.”

A broad grin lit up his face. “Exactly.”

I pretended to think about it for five seconds, then gave a nod. “I’m down with that.”

“Good.” He leaned down, holding his hands firmly at my shoulder blades, the strength and maddening male scent of Cade surrounding me. He stared at my lips, like he wanted to kiss them, but raised his gaze to my eyes. His warm mocha-coffee breath fanned across my face. “Because I’ve never non-dated before, and I don’t like to share.”

Sudden heat rushing through me sent my head spinning. Unable to stop myself, I leaned up and ran my lips across his clean-shaven jawline. I pressed a soft open kiss there and flicked out my tongue. He groaned, then turned his face, dropping his forehead to mine.

I closed my mouth and savored his salty taste. “You’re so possessive, Cade. I’m beginning to like that.”

On a hard laugh, he pulled back. His eyes glittered with amusement. “Only beginning? You knew me and liked what you saw from day one. You’re only now
beginning
to admit it to yourself.” He stared down at my lips again.

I took a deep breath. “You know, just because we’re non-dating doesn’t mean we have to be non-kissing.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up as his gaze met mine. “I’m not sure I can handle much contact and still be able to restrain myself. Our first kiss was…”

“Mind-blowing? Body-trembling? Panty-melting?”

“I melted your panties?”

“Well, my thong. I’m fairly certain it burst into flames.”

He sucked in a deep breath that made me think he had pictured the territory that thong covered.

“We
are
in a semipublic place. One little kiss couldn’t hurt anything.”

He shook his head. “I’m not kissing you until I get the sense that you’re ready for more. Because I’m ready. Very ready. Like zero-to-sixty ready. Not sure there are any gears in between.”

Part of me wanted to tempt him, to tease and take him there to see how much control he had. But the bigger part of me wanted whatever was developing between us to have a chance. And after our semi-disastrous first date, restraint seemed the wiser course.

I gave him a slow nod. “Okay. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be thinking about it.”

“Oh, I’ll be thinking about it. And your melting panties.” His gaze dropped down to my lips in clear hunger.

At that moment, Chloe walked in on us from the back. We broke away from the hold, trying to look nonchalant.

Chloe gave us a hard look. “Don’t try to pretend like nothing’s going on. You two look guilty as shit.”

I shook my head. “We were…”

He backed up. “I had…”

I pointed at him. “He had an eyelash in his eye.”

“And she was helping to get it out.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes, her gaze flicking to Cade. “Uh-huh. With her tongue on your face?”

Okay. So Chloe had been spying. I straightened my crooked apron. “We’re non-dating.”

Chloe paused as she slid a row of cupcakes from the long transfer board into the display case. “Run that by me again? You’re
not
dating.”

I glanced at Cade, but he’d abandoned me. He’d already taken up residence in the corner of the couch again and began typing away at his assignment. Even though he wasn’t looking at me, he saw me, the twitch of lips telling me he was dying inside, trying not to laugh. I glared his way in silent contempt.