Taking a step back, I let my gaze sweep over the kitchen counter. 

I put it all out there. Every kind of drink I could get my hands on. Red wine, beer, vodka, whiskey, hot cocoa mix, coffee, English breakfast tea, apple juice, fruit punch, aloe vera drink, sparkling water, Red Bull, protein shake. Did I miss anything? 

Shit! Tequila! Fucking tequila! The one thing I actually know she likes! 

Tonight is a big deal. I don't want to fuck it up. After trying to get her attention for the past few weeks, she was the one to reach out to me a few minutes ago. Madden and some of the guys from work had been over here at the time, enjoying the game. They were not too pleased when I abruptly kicked their asses to the curb. I won’t apologize. A serious discussion between Angie and me is long overdue. I need to prove to her that I'm worth her time and that I’ll do what it takes to get a second chance.

A quick liquor store run is in order. I hurry down the hallway, feet slapping against the plywood floor. I grab my car keys and dash to the door but just as I'm about to slip into my jacket, the doorbell rings. I bring my eye to the peephole and Angie is standing there. Her features are painted with uncertainty as she lingers on the top step, tapping her foot nervously. She raises her hand to the buzzer again and hesitates. Then, instead of ringing, she spins on her heel and races back to her car.

No no no no!

She can't leave. I can't let her change her mind. I can't let her change her mind because she may never give me this chance again. 

I burst out into the night, chasing down the walkway after her. "Angie! Wait!"

Her steps halt and she spins around slowly with a hand bracing her belly. When I catch up to her, she looks up at me with nervous eyes. "H-hi..."

"Hey..."

We stand there for a moment and just stare at each other. God—she's beautiful. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and so is the tip of her button nose. But the heat in her dark eyes warms up the pit of my stomach even from behind the lenses of her glasses. 

As snowflakes flutter down all around us, I jam my hands into the pockets of my jeans and shuffle my feet. Her gaze falls down to my socks. "You're not wearing any shoes..." Concern flashes in her eyes and that feels like a triumph to me. Maybe, just maybe she doesn’t want me dead after all.

"Where are you going?" I jerk my chin in the direction of her car.

Her expression grows flustered. "I, uh. I just..." She tucks a lock of her short hair behind her ear before her eyes move back to my feet on the snow-covered pavement. "How about we just go inside before I end up having to do a transmetatarsal dismemberment here in your driveway?"

"A what?"

"A toe amputation." A smile splashes from one corner of her face to the next.

I laugh throatily. "That sparkle in your eyes tells me you'd take enormous pleasure in doing that."

Her giggle is as pretty as the rest of her. "That may be one of my revenge fantasies." Then she hums under her breath. "But I have quite a list of other things I’d take pleasure in doing to you."

Not sure I heard her properly, I angle a little closer. "What?" My balls tingle at what I think she said.

She shakes her head embarrassedly. "Nothing. Let's just get inside."

Since my feet are turning to icicles on my driveway, I decide to let it go. I should probably be gallant and let her lead the way but I find myself racing up the walkway on numb soles. She laughs as she follows after me. She deliberately takes her time climbing the stairs when I hold the door open for her from the safety of the foyer.

My skin bristles as she slinks by me. She doesn't actually touch me but I feel her anyway. I feel her all the way to my bones. She blushes ever-so-slightly and mutters a shy thank you when I help her out of her jacket. She kicks off her shoes and steps into the living room. 

"Nice place," she tells me, her hands deep in her back pockets as her gaze travels from corner to corner of the room.

I wiggle my toes, encouraging the circulation to return. "You like?" I haven’t had any other women over since the housewarming party and letting her into my cozy, new bungalow is giving me the deepest kind of thrill. This is her home. This is where she belongs. She just doesn’t realize it yet.

She smiles. "I like."

Immediately, I'm imagining how she'd fit here, what changes she'd want, where she'd position the couch, what paintings she'd want on the walls if she lived here with me. I'm obviously jumping the gun but this is Angie—she's always belonged with me. And yes, I did some fucked up shit that threw that plan off course but I'm just praying it's not too late to fix things. She's here right now so it's a good sign, a sign of hope.

"It's very charming," she says as she runs her fingers along the wooden arch of the doorway. "Modern...masculine..." She sucks in a deep breath as she turns to face me in the shadowy room. The hunger in her eyes is undeniable. "...And it smells just like you."

Is she flirting? I don’t want to be an idiot and misinterpret her body language and the words she’s saying. But my cock is like an antenna picking up on a signal. It twitches, keening in her direction.

My pent-up longing is so damn close to the surface. I just want to press her into the wall and taste her, squeeze those thick curves with my fingers, hear the way she groans my name when she's about to fall apart from my cock. I want to finish what we started in the stairwell earlier.

But I've got to be patient. 

I know Angie. She'll make me earn it. She'll make me go to war for the right to claim her body again. Because she was mine once and I hurt her and this time she won’t make it easy.

"Let's go grab a drink. Then I'll give you a tour." My hand settles on the small of her back and she doesn't flinch, she doesn't shrink away. In fact, she edges closer to me, her arm brushing along my side as we walk. I grin to myself and guide her to the kitchen.

Her glorious laugh rings out when she takes in the beverages lined up on the counter. "What's this?"

"I didn't know what you'd want. So I just pulled everything out. I think I may have gone a little overboard." I fold my arms over my chest and grin. Suddenly, I feel a little silly. My over-eager is showing. But I don't care. I’m ready to do anything to show this girl that I care.

She goes over and snatches up the dark amber bottle of local craft beer. "Okay now, this stuff just looks pretentious." She takes a peek at the little orange price tag stuck to the side of the bottle. “And—oh my god—you paid how much for it?” 

"Hey! That's my favorite!" I'm a little bit offended and it comes across in my voice. I grab the precious bottle out of her hand. "The guy who brews it is from around here. He makes it in the basement of his grandmother's dress shop. Real black market stuff."

She holds her palms up in surrender. "Ooohh! Touchy, touchy!"

I grunt out a laugh and my eyes travel over her. "I don't mind getting touchy. Not at all." I'm an idiot. The moment I say the words I wish I could take them back. I see the way her eyes darken and her posture goes rigid. Shit—maybe I did misread her. Did I just fuck everything up?

She needs me to take it slow. I get that. If I have any hope of fixing things, I have to go at her pace. But that kiss today really messed up my head. I got a taste of her and I’m dying for more. How am I supposed to keep my hands off her? God—that body. Those wide hips, those thick thighs, that beautiful ass—

Reel it in, man!

I make an awkward attempt to salvage the night before it all goes to hell and I'm back at square one. I straighten my shoulders. "So what would you like to drink? 

She turns and throws a cursory glance at the hydration buffet on the counter. "Anything, really. I don't mind."

"Do you want me to go out and grab something else? I was on my way to get some tequila..."

She steps forward and braces her warm hands on my biceps. "Ben—I don't give a fuck about the beverages. I didn't come here for a drink." Her hands slide down my arms and her fingers lace with mine. "I came here to kiss—" she stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips to my jaw "—and to touch—" she lets go of my hand and cups my hard, aching dick "—and to..." She smirks in my face then shoves her hand into her purse and pulls out a string of condoms.

My jaw drops in stunned and horny disbelief. "I...I, uh..."

Oh shit. Things are progressing a lot quicker than anticipated. My cock does the Running Man in my pants. Calm down, buddy. Don't fuck this up.

She taps me placatingly on the chin before dropping the condoms on the counter and spinning toward the hallway with a sultry stride. "Which way's the bedroom?" she asks, batting her eyes before disappearing around the corner.

On second thought, maybe I don't know her at all…