Chapter Sixteen

Gemma

I double checked my messages to make sure nothing was pressing before opening up my email to do the same thing. Satisfied, I closed my phone and put it down on top of a book he had on the nightstand. I angled my head to get a better look at the book. "You're reading a book about dragons?" I asked, just catching the last word on the cover.

He nodded. "Sometimes, mostly with Mason."

"How is Mason?" I asked, as he put his phone down on the top of his dresser. "Good. I don't have to be at work for another two hours. I propose we use our time wisely," he said, sidling up close to me on the bed .

I sat up straighter. "Oh, good. So breakfast? I'm starving."

He laughed and got back up. "Not what I had intended, but sure I'll go make us breakfast."

"Don't forget the coffee. I definitely need coffee," I explained. "Do you mind if I take a shower?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. Come downstairs when you're ready."

It all felt very domestic to me, but also so natural, like he and I were meant for this. When he left, I got up, showered, and changed into a new sundress, opting to put my damp hair up in a bun. By the time I was done, the smell of coffee was filling the air.

"Something smells good," I announced as I walked down the stairs.

"I know you're not talking about me, but I'm going to pretend you are. So thank you," Lance told me, his back to me as he continued cooking whatever he had in the pan in front of him.

He was wearing a white shirt and board shorts, ready for another day on the job at the resort. Honestly, he looked so handsome with his arm muscles on full display, I couldn't help but go over and touch them, wrapping my fingers around his arms as he worked.

"Fried eggs?" I asked, peering around him to the pan .

He looked over at me and smiled before turning around, leaning down and planting a kiss on my lips. "You still like your eggs over easy, right?"

"You remember," I asked, amazed that after all this time he remembered how I ordered my eggs from room service.

"I remember a lot of things."

That felt like a loaded comment, so I looked over at the pot of coffee and pointed, hoping to change the subject. "May I?"

He waved his free hand over to the pot. "Please. The creamer's in the fridge by the—"

"Milk?" I ventured.

"How did you know?" he asked, looking over at me as I opened the fridge and took it out.

"Makes the most sense," I answered, chuckling. "I thought you don't drink creamer?"

"I don't," he confirmed. "Tyler," was all he said and I nodded. With everything he told me about his friends, I understood.

I poured the cup of coffee and went to add the creamer, but not before reading the flavor. "And white chocolate no less." I quirked a brow.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand before turning the burner off and reaching for plates to put them in. "Yeah, Tyler has a wicked sense of humor. "

I laughed. "Okay, then. I guess I'll just be thankful that he has a wicked sense of humor, as you put it. Because I, for one, love white chocolate."

"I remember," he said, "the same way you don't like dark chocolate."

I took a sip of the my coffee and kept my hands around the mug, sighing. "This tastes delicious," I said before acknowledging his dark chocolate comment. I remembered the dark chocolates he surprised me with years ago. It was a sweet gesture, but he was right—I couldn't stand the taste of dark chocolate. "That box of chocolates you brought me was very thoughtful."

"Thoughtful, but you didn't eat them," he pointed out, placing the plates on the counter. He made avocado toast and eggs and it looked almost too good to eat. Too bad I was starving, though, and couldn't wait to dig in.

I frowned. "Sorry. I should've never told you I didn't like dark chocolate. I should've just shut my mouth and accepted the gift."

He brushed my comment aside. "Don't even give it a second thought. I was only kidding. I don't care one way or another about a box of chocolates."

I laughed. "Good." I lifted the toast to my mouth and took a bite before moaning and licking my lips clean of the avocado that I felt on them. "This is delicious, by the way. "

When I looked up, he was staring at me. "What?" My eyes widened, fearful I had something on my face. "Do I have food on my face?"

He shook his head, smiling at me. "No. You look beautiful, that's all."

I rolled my eyes. "No one looks beautiful when they're eating. It's a known fact. Eating across from someone is never pretty."

"Well, I think you're beautiful and I could watch you eat all day long, especially when you lick your lips."

I licked my lips, unable to resist just to see how he'd react.

His eyes fell to my lips. "You really want to do that right now?"

When I didn't answer, only stared at him, he asked, "Thinking about taking that comment back from last night?"

I cringed. "Oh, the one about you not being able to cook?" I lifted my head. "I can see how I may have been mistaken. One burnt lasagna does not make for a terrible cook it seems."

"Good to see those classes I took paid off. For another adult, of course, not just the palate of an eight-year-old."

"You took cooking classes?" I questioned in between bites .

He nodded, swallowing his own bite. "A couple. It really helped. I had to be able to fend for myself and Mason. I can only bring home so much pizza and take-out."

Before I could get a word in, I heard the voice of said eight-year-old shout, "Did I hear you say pizza?" before running in to inspect the kitchen for pizza boxes.

The mini Lance that ran past me toward his father was singlehandedly the most adorable sight I'd ever seen.

"Daddy!" he shouted, running into Lance's outstretched arms.

"Hey, buddy," Lance said. "Did you have fun with Uncle Hunter?"

Mason backed out of Lance's arms and nodded profusely. "So much fun!" Then he put a hand to the side of his mouth and barely whispered, "He let me have ice cream for breakfast."

"Did he now?" Lance asked, eyeing Hunter, who just joined us in the kitchen, strolling in ever so casually.

Kid's backpack on his shoulder aside, Hunter was extremely masculine looking, almost just like Lance, but he had darker hair and blue eyes. If I didn't know better, I'd think the two men were brothers and not just best friends. "It's like milk," he said, shrugging the backpack off. "He also had waffles," he added by way of explanation. "Hi, I'm Hunter. You must be Gemma. Nice to meet you," he said, walking over to me, a hand out.

I accepted it and smiled. "Nice to meet you," I agreed before turning back to the father-son duo. "Maybe I should be going," I suggested to Lance who was busy with his son.

"No, no," he stopped and said.

"I'm sorry I had to drop the little guy back home early, but my shift starts soon today." After that, Hunter excused himself and left the same way he came in.

Lance bent down and took Mason by his shoulders. "There's someone I'd like you to meet, Mase."

Now?

Well, of course, he wanted to introduce me now, I thought to myself.

I'm here. Mason's here. How stupid could I be?

I cleared my throat and dabbed a napkin on my lips so I didn't look like a mess when he introduced me to his son for the first time.

"Mason," Lance started and looked over at me. Then he continued, "This is Gemma. She's my special friend."

Mason waved at me and then raised a brow. "Do you and my dad kiss? "

I nearly choked on my own saliva. "Um." I was actually stumped. For the first time, I had no idea what to say.

Lance laughed and turned Mason to look at him again. "Sometimes, buddy. Why don't you go upstairs and play with your Legos while we finish our breakfast, then we'll get going to the resort."

"Cool," Mason answered. "Thanks, Dad."

Alone for just a second, I wanted to walk right over to him and kiss this man, this father who suddenly held my heart, but Hunter walked back in. "Sorry, I forgot this in the car," he explained dropping another bag on the floor.

"Was he good for you?" Lance asked.

Hunter nodded. "Sure, but that kid has some serious energy to burn."

Eyebrow hitched in the air, Lance suggested, "Maybe it's the ice cream you let him have for breakfast."

Sitting down on the bar stool, I let the two friends say their peace, but even I could see how ice cream would not be a very good idea before noon.

"I'll alert the guys in case he ever tries to convince them it's a good idea," Hunter said, turning to leave.

My head shot up, though. "Oh, The Hurricanes?" I asked .

Hunter stopped and spun back around, cocking a brow and looking at Lance, who just shrugged. "I told her when we first met, guess she remembered," he explained.

"I think it's cute."

Hunter tilted his head. "Cute?"

"Yeah," I answered, chuckling. "I have a family group chat, but we don't have a name for it or anything."

"No," Hunter said, waving his hand in the air before crossing his arms. "It's manly. It's masculine." He pointed to Lance. "Tell her, man. We're hurricanes because we leave damage in our wake. We leave broken hearts wherever we go." As though, giving up, he rolled his eyes. "Forget it."

I smiled, leaning into Lance and placing a hand on his arm. "I still think it's cute." And I had a hard time believing these men who cared for an adorable little eight-year-old boy like they were part of his family could do any real damage.

Lance laughed and leaned into my touch. "You heard her. It's cute." He smiled, as if perfectly fine with my assessment.

Hunter rolled his eyes again. "Whatever you say. I got to get to work." Before turning on his heel, he added, "I'm glad you two found your way back to one another. Now I can stop hearing about the girl Lance let go three years ago."

I raised a brow and laughed, looking over at Lance. "You talk about me?"

Lance cleared his throat and looked away, decidedly making himself busy with piling the pan and some plates in the sink. "Hunter's an idiot. You can't listen to him."

Hunter grinned and put his hands up in defeat while walking to the door. "I'm just speaking the truth." Then he brought his hands around his torso, coming to rest on his back. He rubbed them up and down like he was being groped. "Oh, Gemma." He repeated my name a few more times before stopping. "She's just so different, I wish I never let her walk out. You know, blather like that."

Lance threw him such a dirty look that if it could've I knew it would've tossed daggers his way. "Just wait," he warned as Hunter opened the door and walked out, laughing.

When he was gone, he turned to me. "It's a long story."

"I'm sure," I said, blushing. "Don't worry, I'm sort of flattered that you've thought about me so much and talked about me."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, closing me in to where I was sitting at the counter .

I nodded. "Definitely." I licked my lips. "It sort of turns me on, to be honest."

"Really?"

I snaked my arms around his neck and brought him closer, so his lips were hovering over mine. "Too bad I'm leaving soon," I blurted out and instantly regretted it.

What was I thinking? Why couldn't I keep that thought to myself?

He backed away now and cleared his throat. I could tell by looking into his eyes that my words pissed him off. "Why would you say that?"

I shrugged. It was too late now. I couldn't very well take the words back. "Because it's the truth."

He shook his head and raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Unbelievable. So last night with you was just another moment in time? Were you already thinking of when you would leave again?"

"No!" I immediately said, but then brought a finger to my mouth and bit my nail. "Yes," I said, being honest this time. "Oh, I don't know," I mumbled. "Why does this have to be so complicated?"

He was growing distant as he grumbled something under his breath and began pacing in the living room. "Seems pretty clear to me. You're leaving again and you weren't even going to give it a second thought. "

"And what about you?" I asked, becoming guarded now, too. I crossed my arms over my chest, as though shielding myself from his icy glare. "Maybe you forgot, but you let me walk out years ago because you had Mason to worry about and couldn't confuse him with our relationship and get his hopes up. Last I checked, you still have a son to worry about. Nothing has changed," I practically shouted the last part.

He nodded and gave me a blank expression. "Perhaps you're right. But I just introduced you to my son. I thought it might be different this time."

"We never talked about that and you decided to do that all on your own. The plan was for me to be gone before he came home."

"Plans change," he replied simply, as though he was talking about so much more than our plan for me to be gone after breakfast.

"It's easier if I just leave." Then I closed my eyes and added, "And forgot this whole thing ever happened. I didn't ask for any of this, Lance."

"No," he said, shrugging and hitting his hand on the side of his leg. "I didn't, either, Gemma, but here we are three years later in the same place we were then." He cursed as he rubbed the back of his neck, letting his hand linger there for a second. "Maybe you were right. This is a mistake. We shouldn't have fooled ourselves. "

Wait! I just needed everything to slow down. I needed to take a moment to think about this and weigh my options. Everything in my life was neat and had an order to it. It all made sense. The problem was, Lance and I were messy and we never made sense outside of the resort. "But I don't want it to end like this again, Lance."

"What do you want, then, Gemma?"

I exhaled. I didn't even know what I wanted. But this sure as heck wasn't it. I didn't want to leave on a bad note. I couldn't take him being angry with me or thinking this was a mistake because as much as it could've been perceived that way, it wasn't. We both knew that.

And that was quite possibly the worst label—a mistake.

"I don't want it to end like this. So, instead, let's just say we'll think about it." That was the way he left things when he gave me his address, and look at how that turned out. I decided to take the plunge and come here last night. I didn't regret that. I was hoping that saying his words back to him would help.

"Fine," he spat out. "I'll think about it."

"Lance," I softly responded, pleading with him to understand, to accept whatever was going to be. We both had a lot to think about .

His expression softened. "I'll think about it," he repeated, and this time I knew he meant it.