Just a Number(55)

I get up off the couch and pad into the kitchen in my sweats and T-shirt, the smell of coffee growing stronger with every step. Alan’s always been an early riser, so it doesn’t surprise me that he’s up already.

“Hey,” I greet, rubbing my hands over my weary face, blocking my view.

“Oh!” Amelia exclaims, shocking me; I’d automatically assumed it was Alan. I hadn’t expected to find her here this early. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Shaking my head in response to her question, I smile, letting it widen genuinely as I pull up a seat at the counter. She’s still in her gray sleep shorts and a white tank top with a red flannel long-sleeved shirt unbuttoned overtop. Unfortunately for me, I also notice that she’s without a bra, and this does little to keep my mind out of the gutter. “How was your sleep?” I ask in a hushed tone, hoping to keep my mind in a clean place.

“Restless.” Amelia grabs a second mug from the cupboard above the coffee maker and pours me a cup, adding cream and sugar before handing it to me. She grabs her own mug and then leans across the countertop, facing me, the backs of her fingers brushing mine. The look in her eyes tells me it’s on purpose, and I return the gesture softly, relishing in the feeling of her soft skin.

When she lifts her mug to her lips, I do the same. “Mine, too.” The tightness returns to my neck, and I bring my hand up to rub it, alerting Amelia to my discomfort.

“Your neck’s sore.” She looks somewhat conflicted, her face showing her struggle. “I wish I could…”

Smiling, I nod. “I know. Me too. I’ll probably just grab a hot shower in a few. Hopefully that’ll help.” She smirks, arching an eyebrow, and I suppress a chuckle, shaking my head. “You don’t want to go there,” I warn her.

“Actually,” she says, scrunching her nose up adorably, “I kind of do…but I won’t for the sole fact that my father will probably be up very soon to start on breakfast.”

As if waiting in the wings for his cue, we hear Alan’s heavy footsteps on the stairs, and soon he’s in the kitchen with us. He’s also in his sweats and a T-shirt as he pulls up the seat next to me, and Amelia grabs him a cup of coffee, too.

“Good morning, you two. Been up long?”

“Uh, about ten minutes, maybe?” I tell him.

“I’ve been up since about six,” Amelia says, surprising me. “Down here since seven-forty-five.” She catches my quizzical look and shrugs. “Figured you two grumpy bears could use some coffee, so I got a head start on it.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” Alan declares, raising his mug to Amelia.

After finishing her coffee, Amelia puts her mug in the sink. “I’m going to go and wash up. I’ll be back down shortly.”

When we hear the shower start upstairs, Alan decides to get started on preparing breakfast. I offer to help, but he kicks me out of the kitchen, and I decide to go fix the living room back up. I’m just putting away the spare bedding when the front door opens and Carla and the kids walk through.

“Merry Christmas!” she calls out happily, the smile on her face fading the minute she sees me. “Good morning, Owen.” She sets what looks like an overnight bag down next to the door, and the kids do the same.

Interesting.

“Carla.” I turn to the kids and smile. “Ethan, Hayley. Merry Christmas.”

They return my greeting before rushing past me, collapsing on the couch and turning the TV on. Teenagers.

With Ethan and Hayley occupied, Carla heads off to the kitchen in search of Alan, and I grab my bag so I can take it upstairs with me when I go shower. I’d heard the shower stop a little while ago, so I figure it’s safe to go upstairs since Amelia’s probably already in her room.

I really should know better than to assume anything, because the minute I reach for the door handle, the door opens into the bathroom, steam rolling out, revealing Amelia wrapped in nothing more than a towel. Her long hair falls wet around her shoulders, water rivulets dripping down her arms as she holds her towel to her chest, and she looks up at me with a bashful smile.

“Oh, hey.” Her voice cracks slightly, so she clears her throat. “I should, um, go get dressed.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t momentarily contemplate dragging her back into that bathroom and kissing her. Images of me pressing her against the closed bathroom door as I wrap her legs around my waist and have my way with her are far too prominent in my mind, and I have to rein them in before…

“Oh,” Carla says, coming up the stairs behind me. “I was just coming to put my bag in Alan’s room.”