Feels Like Love by Jenna Hartley

Chapter Five

“Bennett! Bennett!” River bounded down the hall, fresh from a bath. His hair was still wet, and he smelled like roses. I’d recently learned the scent was the product of a bath bomb.

Until a few days ago, I had no idea what a bath bomb was. Now, I knew they came in all sorts of scents and colors, and some even had surprises inside. River had demonstrated one night by dropping a white ball into the bathtub, which then turned into a rainbow as it fizzed in the water. It was pretty cool.

“Will you read me stories? Pretty please.” He clasped his hands beneath his chin and batted his eyes at me. But I would’ve said yes even before he’d turned up the charm. I was such a sucker when it came to this kid.

I glanced to Wren, who was currently standing at the end of the hall, arms crossed over her chest. “River,” she chided. “We talked about this.”

She looked beautiful but tired, and I wished she’d let me help out more. She refused to accept any money for rent, so I’d made it my mission to stock the fridge and prepare dinner every night. And she wouldn’t let me help with the bills, so I did chores around the house.

Even now, I was trying to assess the situation. I wanted to read him stories—not just because I knew it would help Wren. But because I knew that it would mean a lot to River. And it sounded fun.

“I’d be happy to. But only if it’s okay with your mom.”

He turned to her. “See! He said he wants to do it.”

She sighed, resignation written in her demeanor. “Okay. But don’t expect Bennett to read every night.”

He jumped up and down, dancing in a circle. “Okay. Okay. Yes!” He ran over to the couch and grabbed my hand, tugging. “Come on, Bennett. Come on!”

“Okay.” I laughed, allowing him to pull me along. “Why don’t you go pick out some books, and I’ll be right there.”

I passed Wren on the way to the hall, placing my hand on her shoulders. I dipped down so I could meet her eyes. “Is this okay?”

She nodded but said nothing before shuffling down the hall to her room. “Come get me if you need anything.”

I nodded and then went into River’s room. The space was colorful and cheerful, just like its occupant. The wall behind his bed was covered in a cactus print wallpaper. In the corner of the room, a ladder led up to an attic space where fairy lights twinkled from just beyond the opening.

He patted a spot next to him on the twin bed, and I sat down. “What did you choose?” I asked as he handed me the books. I looked at each one, reading the titles. “The One and Only Sparkella, Ten Rules of Being a Superhero, and…Mother Bruce.” I laughed, settling in. Life with River was never dull, that was for sure.

“Start with Mother Bruce, please,” he said, snuggling down in the covers.

“Sure.” I shuffled the books so that one was on top, and then I started reading. Mother Bruce was funny, but I really enjoyed Sparkella. At some point during the stories, River rested his head against my shoulder. It felt so normal, so nice to be part of their routine. To be part of his life.

When I’d finished reading the stories, I set them on the bookshelf and turned out the light. The fairy lights still twinkled from his secret hideout. “Goodnight, River.”

I was almost to the door when he said, “Bennett?”

“Yeah?” I paused with my hand on the knob.

“Thanks for reading to me. I’m really glad you’re here.”

His comment hit me right in the feels, as Wren would say. Ugh. What a kid. “Me too, buddy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he said on a yawn, and I stepped into the hall, closing the door softly behind me.

I padded out to the living room and found Wren sitting on the couch with her laptop, the TV playing softly in the background. She was so focused on her computer, she didn’t even hear me come in. I watched her for a minute, committing the image to memory. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her more relaxed, and she was absolutely beautiful. Her blond hair was piled on her head, a few tendrils falling down near her face. She’d changed into her pajamas, a pair of fitted joggers and a graphic tee with the words, “Bakers gonna bake, bake, bake, bake,” on it, which made me laugh. She flinched and slammed her computer shut.

“Nice shirt.”

“You scared the bejesus out of me.” She seemed flustered. Not at all suspicious.

“Whatcha doin’?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me as I took a seat next to her on the couch. I was about six inches away. Not so close that we were touching, but probably not as much distance as I should’ve put between us.

“Just some, um, work.” Right. She was lying, and I wanted to know why. “How did bedtime go?”

“Great.” I grinned, leaning back and resting my arm on the back of the couch. “You know I’m happy to read to him—anytime.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” she said, setting her laptop on the table and pulling her knees to her chest. “And maybe every so often is fine, but…”

“But what?” I asked, glancing down at her feet as she shifted on the couch.

I’d never noticed how adorable her toes were. Dainty and painted a pretty shade of pink. I wondered if her pussy was a similar color. Stop thinking about her pussy, idiot. She’s your best friend’s sister!

“You’re going to leave in a few weeks, and I don’t want River to get too used to having you around.”

I nodded, contemplating her words. I could understand where she was coming from—I didn’t want to hurt or confuse River either. Though I couldn’t help but wonder if Wren pushing me away had more to do with her own fears than any concerns about River.

“Wren,” I said, waiting until she turned to look at me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re only here until your house is fixed.”

“Yes.” I took her hand in mine. “But I’ve always been a part of River’s life. And I always hope to be a part of it—if you’ll let me.”

Her expression softened, shoulders relaxing. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m just so used to doing everything on my own. It’s hard sometimes to relinquish control, especially now that I finally have it back.”

I squeezed her hand then released it. “It’s okay to let others help you, to rely on them.”

She nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced. “I have. Trust me, I feel like I could never repay my parents and Liam for all they’ve done for River and me.”

“That’s what family does.”

She leaned forward and picked up the remote as if she could change the conversation with the flick of a button. “We don’t have to watch this. I just put it on because I like having something playing in the background.”

“Well, what do you want to watch?” I asked. When she shrugged, I continued, “What would you be watching if I weren’t here?”

She pursed her lips. “Probably TheGreat British Bake Off or another cooking show.”

“Let’s watch that, then.”

“You don’t want to watch it, though. Do you?”

I’m just happy being with you. But I couldn’t say that, so instead, I said, “Wren, I’m happy to watch whatever.”

“Okay, but you’ll tell me if you hate it, right? If so, I’ll never speak to you again. But we can totally watch something else.”

I laughed. “If you love it, I’m sure I will too.”

“Okay.” She navigated to a baking show, and the intro started to play. “I promise you can choose next time.”

The show wasn’t bad. I typically didn’t watch much reality TV, but I liked the format. Everyone was so cooperative and encouraging. And the desserts looked phenomenal.

But the best part was Wren’s commentary. She’d already watched most of the season, but she’d gone back to the beginning to give me “the full experience.” Hard as she tried not to spoil who was leaving the show, I could read her like a book. And even though she’d already seen every episode, she lit up when a new creation came out or when someone bombed the technical.

About thirty minutes later, when the contestants rolled out their showstoppers, Wren said, “Gah! Why did I choose this? It’s making me hungry.”

She had no idea.

I was hungry, all right. But for something else entirely. And she was sitting right next to me, tantalizing me.

“Why don’t we bake something, then?” I asked, feeling like I might do something stupid like touch her if I didn’t get off this couch. We’d already somehow migrated closer, both of us inching toward the center of the couch and each other. Our thighs were now brushing, shoulders touching despite all the space on either side of us.

She glanced at the clock over the stove. “I guess it’s not that late. But what would we even make?”

I stood and held out a hand to her. “Let’s see what we’re working with first.” She placed her hand in mine, allowing me to pull her up to a standing position.

It had the effect of trapping us between the couch and the coffee table. Her breasts grazed against my chest, and she let out a little squeak of surprise but held my gaze. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been this close to her in the past few years, apart from a friendly hug. But this certainly felt like something more, especially when her eyes darkened, the pupils nearly swallowing the iris. Whether I meant to or not, I leaned in, my body pulled to her like a magnet.

The sound of applause from the direction of the TV broke the trance, and I stepped back so she could pass. I followed Wren to the kitchen, unable to look away from her hips and ass.

I can do this.I breathed through my nose, feeling more like a bull ready to charge a red cape. I can do this. I can resist the temptation that is Wren Beaudin.

It wasn’t like it was anything new. I’d been resisting that temptation for years. But I’d never been in such close proximity to her for so long. And while I’d been afraid that maybe she wouldn’t live up to the vision I had of her, she’d shattered that idea. Living with Wren had shown me that she was even more amazing than I already knew.

From inside the fridge, she said, “It looks like we have milk, cream, and butter.”

“We should have eggs,” I said.

“Oh yeah. Right.” She closed the door. “We do. Thanks for that.”

I peered into the pantry. “Sugar, brown sugar, flour, baking powder. Looks like you’re prepared.”

“We’re prepared. And mostly because you keep doing the grocery shopping.” She narrowed her eyes at me.

“Chocolate chip cookies?” I asked, hoping to distract her.

“A classic, but…don’t you think that’s a little too easy?”

I laughed. “Well, I was trying to go with something that wouldn’t take forever like some of the bakes on the show. I got the feeling you were needing your dessert now.”

She nodded and grabbed her phone. “You’re right. Let’s check out the GBBO website to see what we can come up with.” She typed on her phone. “Perfect. There’s a section devoted to quick and easy bakes. Come look.”

I moved closer to her, our shoulders kissing as we both peered at her phone. Every time she scrolled, her arm brushed against mine. Temptation. Resist. Resist.

“Ooh!” She stopped scrolling when she came to a recipe for chocolate orange pots. “This looks good! Fast and super easy.”

“It does. But do we have oranges?”

She riffled through the produce drawer. “No.”

“How about this?” I showed her my phone.

I’d been scrolling through the recipes and found one I knew she’d love.

Her jaw dropped, eyes going wide. “Yes. Oh yes. Yes, we are totally making that.”

I laughed, but it was strained. The way she’d said the words—all breathy and excited—had my dick just as impassioned as her words. “Do you think you can wait fifty minutes?”

“Yes…” She lifted a finger. “But only if I can lick the spoon.”

I groaned. Come on. Give me a break here! I’m trying.

But she misinterpreted my reaction and said, “What? Are you one of those people who gets freaked out by the idea of eating raw cookie dough?”

“No. Though, personally, I’d prefer not to have salmonella.”

“Oh please, the risk is minimal. Besides, it’s worth it.” She backed into the pantry and started grabbing ingredients, setting them on the counter.

“I’ll take your word for it.” I grabbed some of the others then started measuring them all out.

“Wow.” She laughed, joining me at the counter. “You’re…surprisingly good at this.”

I lifted a shoulder but continued on with my prep. “Sometimes I help Asher when he bakes.”

“Really?” she asked, grabbing the mixer and preheating the oven.

“He’s so talented. And it’s fun watching him work,” I said, then winced. “At least—when he’s not yelling at you for not piping the pastries perfectly.”

She grinned at that, like she took a little pleasure in my pain. It made me wonder what gave Wren pleasure in the bedroom.

“His pastries are incredible. They’re like little works of art,” she said with a dreamy sigh. I made a mental note to pick some up for her next time I was near the winery where he worked. Or maybe I could ask him to bring a few extra on Friday. “Almost too pretty to eat. Which is why I always take a picture before devouring mine.”

“Have you ever considered branching off into food photography?” I asked.

She shook her head and started mixing the butter and sugar together. “I prefer humans. There’s a lot that goes into shooting food—more than people think.”

“Yeah?” I added the next ingredients to the bowl while she continued mixing. “Like what?”

“Well…did you know that sometimes they use a soldering iron to get the perfect ‘grill marks’?”

“Really?” I asked. She nodded, turning off the mixer. “Okay, now it says to split it into two bowls.” She set to work doing that, while I worked on the peanut butter mixture. “That sounds deceptive.”

“There are rules about it. Harper used to know a food photographer in LA, and she told me all about it. It was pretty fascinating.”

“I’ll bet.” I poured her mixture into another piping bag. “Ready to grease the cake tin?”

“Why do I have to grease it?”

“Because…”

“Because it’s a sucky job.”

I laughed. “Well, yeah. But also…” I shrugged, holding up the piping bags. “My hands are kind of full.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Because you can’t set them down for just a second.”

“I really can’t,” I deadpanned. “The mixture is perfect, and we wouldn’t want it to get all over the counter instead of in the pan.”

“You are so full of it. But fine, I’ll grease the pan ifyou’ll clean up.”

“Deal,” I said, knowing I would’ve insisted on doing it anyway.

She finished greasing the pan, then held out her hands, making a grabby motion. “Give me one of those.”

I handed her the chocolate piping bag, and we took turns piping the mixture in until it was full. Finally, the pan went into the oven, and she set the timer while I got started on the dishes.

She came to the sink, bumping me with her hip. “I was teasing about the dishes.”

I glanced down at her with a smile. “I wasn’t.”

“At least let me dry. Then we can start another episode while our cake bakes.”

“Or…you could work on the chocolate glaze while I clean up.”

She nodded slowly, backing away from me toward the pantry. “Yes. Yes. I like the way you think.”

By the time we were ready to sit down to watch the show again, the timer buzzed. The cake smelled amazing, and I imagined it would taste even better. Wren bent over to open the oven and pull out the cake, and my mouth watered at the sight. Forget the cake; I wanted her.

Her eyes gleamed as she looked upon the cake with desire. “I can’t wait to put this in my mouth.”

Oh hell.

And then she burst out laughing. “Oh my god. Wow. I sound just like Paul and Prue on GBBO.”

“You mean with all their little innuendos?” I laughed, and she joined in.

“Yes! There’s no way that many of them are accidental.” She placed the cake on a cooling rack. “Oh…I have to show you this video with Hugh Jackman and Billy Crystal. It’s hilarious.”

She pulled it up on her phone, and I knew I was in trouble when they started reading lines from one of the episodes. Throwing around words like “moist” and “wet” and… “Oh fuck.” I was laughing so hard, my side ached. Wren was right there with me, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun with a woman.

Why did it have to be her? Why did the universe hate me—making me fall for my best friend’s sister?