Take Two: A Modern Love Story Short (Modern Love Story Shorts Book 1) by Daisy Prescott Page A

with restrained excitement. “For?”
    “Rolling out pie crust.” I turned in his arms to face him and pushed against his chest, encouraging him to back up.  
    He groaned and grabbed my ass, pulling me along with him. “I’m sure it’ll be great for that, but let’s test it out for other things first.” He grinned, and then swept his arm out, knocking the empty boxes to the floor where they landed with soft thuds.
    I matched his expression. Dark hair surrounded a face I’d known half my life. I trailed my hands over the deep green thermal covering his broad shoulders and down his toned biceps.
    His long fingers wrapped around my waist and easily lifted me up to the cool granite of the counter. He settled his hips between my legs before kissing me softly at the corner of my mouth.
    “Nothing more than this,” he whispered against my ear, his warm breath tickling me as he sang along to the song playing on the kitchen's speakers.
    I hummed at his words and the memories they conjured. My gaze met his for a few beats.  
    This man. This man was everything.
    I reached for his fly and what strained hard and heavy beneath the denim.  
    Our pants ended up on the floor as we lost ourselves in each other. Hands swept over warm skin. Tongues teased and tasted. I tugged down his boxers until they skimmed his legs to puddle at his feet. I was right. This counter was the perfect height for his six foot frame.
    I opened my mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the electric chime of the doorbell.
    “Expecting anyone?” he asked, his breath husky from our counter encounter.
    “No one ever expects the kraken.”
    “We’re landlocked.”
    “Land shark?” I asked.
    He responded by tugging on my earlobe with his teeth.  
    I moaned. “There’s a river. Two rivers. Double the odds for a kraken.”
    “Do krakens live in the Willamette?”
    “I was thinking more the Columbia.”
      “Oh, sure, the Columbia. Don’t they need the deep, dank depths of the oceans?” He pulled away to meet my gaze.
    “You’re questioning kraken habitat?”
    “No, of course not. That would be silly.”
    The ringing from the hall continued.
    “Should we get that?” I asked.
    “Probably.”
    “We could pretend we’re not home.”
    Loud knocking replaced the chimes of the doorbell.
    “They seem pushy for Jehovah’s Witnesses. Or those sweet Mormon missionary boys.”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a thing for young men on bicycles?”
    I laughed. “No, but my grandmother used to invite them in for lemonade and cookies. Then, flirted with them.”
    A combination of knocking and ringing created a cacophony at the front door.
    Gil sighed and reached for his jeans. “I should probably put my pants back on and answer it.”
    “Go pants-less. That’ll show them.”
    He shuffled himself back into his boxers and jeans. I watched his long fingers button his fly, mourning the loss of the view.  
    “That looks uncomfortable.” I pointed at the outline of his hard length.
    “It’s not ideal.” He shook his head.  
    “It’s a shame really.” I pouted. “Damn kraken.”
    “You might want to get dressed in case it’s someone we know,” he called out as he walked down the hall. “I’m coming.”
    “You were about to.” I snickered.
    “Get dressed, Maggie May. It’s Selah.”
    At the mention of my best friend’s name, I hopped off the counter, straightened my sweater, and then located my jeans on the floor near the stove.
    “What’s this about coming?” Selah’s voice rang out from the door.
    I hopped around, pulling up my jeans as her boots echoed down the hall.
    “Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have brought up the kraken three times. Selah’s like Beetlejuice.” I smiled when her familiar dark bob appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.
    “Who are you calling a kraken?” Selah eyed my disheveled appearance, scanning my rumpled clothing. “You might want to zip your jeans, Maggie. Looks like I’m interrupting