“Will you braid my hair?” Fin asked, using those eyes on Morgan to get her way. “I have kindergarten tonight.”

Oh shit. That tightness in my chest was back, flaring in a fierce surge of emotion I had no right to feel. Finley liked Morgan. She trusted her, which only made my attraction to her increase exponentially.

Morgan’s soft brown eyes found mine in silent question, and I gave her a slight nod.

“If you want me to, I can,” Morgan replied.

“Yay! I’ll get my stuff.” Clutching her new prize, Finley raced off to her room, leaving us standing in the entry hall.

“Thanks. She never lets me braid it. Mostly because every time I try, it comes out lopsided and not very braid-like,” I remarked, struggling for something to say that wouldn’t come out hey-I-really-like-you-any-chance-you-might-feel-the-same.

Because I wasn’t fourteen.

And the woman still doesn’t know what you do for a living, jackass.

“No problem. I’m happy to do it.”

I walked her into the kitchen and offered her a drink.

“No thanks, I’m good.” She braced her hands on the granite and boosted her ass into the same spot I’d put her when I’d patched her up weeks ago.

If Sam hadn’t walked in, I would have—

“So, kindergarten, huh?”

“It’s just orientation for next year, but it crept up on me, that’s for sure.”

“She’ll do great.”

Fuck me. She crossed her legs and shifted forward slightly, leaning on her palms. Maybe it was the months of celibacy, but my body took more than enough notice of her. Shit, when was the last time I got laid? Not since Morgan arrived, that was for sure. Not for lack of opportunity but because I didn’t want anyone else.

Holy shit. I don’t want anyone else.

So what the hell did that mean? Did I want a date with this woman? A night in her bed? An actual relationship? Yes to all.

She took a deep breath, causing her breasts to rise against her neckline, and I turned back to the refrigerator, popped the top of one of those antioxidant drinks Finley liked because they were pink, and chugged the whole thing.

“Thirsty?” Morgan teased.

You have no fucking idea.

“You could definitely say that.” I turned slowly, and from the way her eyes widened, I was doing a piss-poor job of keeping my thoughts off my face.

Only a few feet separated us. A heartbeat—maybe two—and I could be standing between her knees, her face in my hands, my tongue finally tasting the curve of her mouth.

As if she could read my thoughts, her lips parted, and the air crackled for all the potential electricity lingering between us.

“Got it!” Fin called out, skidding to a halt in front of Morgan with a tackle box full of hair-care products.