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

Chapter One

    Maggie

    Friday …

    Cardboard boxes and plastic bins cluttered the downstairs of Gil’s house. I’d been spending more and more time here since the reunion. Last weekend, we’d finally gone to the island and loaded two cars full of boxes, which contained more kitchen stuff than clothes. Or shoes. Luckily, Gil had bachelor cupboards and closets. I teased him about his limited collection of mismatched bowls, pint glasses and single cookie sheet, but I was delighted for all the extra space. His constant reminders that his house was now our house made me happy in a way I’d never imagined six months ago. My beloved stainless steel stand mixer sat on the counter next to his deluxe coffee/espresso machine.
    “Why does anyone need so many glass jars?” he asked, emptying one of my boxes, glass clinking against glass.
    “Why does anyone need so many pint glasses?” I gestured at the open cabinet.
    “Beer, water, gin & tonics … iced tea.” He smiled. “Want me to go on?”
    “You’ve covered four of the major beverage groups.”
    “I have wine glasses, too.”
    “It looks like you’ve done all your shopping in the gift shops of micro-breweries and wineries.”
    “And that’s a bad thing?” His chuckle was low and settled deep under my skin.
    “Not at all.” I set my Mason jars alongside his collection on the shelf.
    “Are you smiling at the cupboard?” He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
    I tried and failed to temper my grin. “I am. I’m remembering the first time we shared a kitchen.” I wondered if we’d still dance to “Call Me Al” in this kitchen the way we had all those years ago.
    “Listen Betty, college didn’t count.” Gil’s chest rumbled with his laughter against my back. He’d remembered too. “Plus, we had housemates.”  
    “We were friends.”
    “Without benefits.” He swept my hair down my back.
    “We were friends.”  
    “We were silly youth who thought we knew everything and had all the time in the world to let things unfold.” He kissed the top of my head.  
    “Silly, stupid girl.” I couldn’t argue with him. My smile returned thinking about this moment and this life, and how unexpected and right it felt to be here.  
    “It’s ridiculous how happy I am right now.” I pulled his hand to my lips and kissed the back.
    “Happy enough for pie making?”
    “Is this a euphemism or real pie, involving filling?”
    His arms tightened around me and he dragged his scruff over the skin between the collar of my sweater and my jaw. I shivered. Oh, two could play at this game. I arched my back and rubbed my ass against his jeans.
    “Filling could apply to either.” His fingers slid closer to my breasts. “I love your pie. What kind is up to you.”
    “Filling? Really?”
    “You said it first.”  
    My heart thumped quicker in my chest. After months of flirting on the phone, our not-so-dirty euphemisms still made me smile. They weren’t sexy, or really all that dirty, but they were goofy like us. “I’ll never get all these boxes unpacked.”
    “Let’s chuck them all. We can live with pint glasses, jars and paper plates.” His hands traveled over the soft swell of my bra and he stepped impossibly closer. He lowered his voice. “I'd rather fill a box—”
    “Gil …”
    “Maggie …” He squeezed me while grinding his hips.
    “You’re kidding about the paper plates, right?”
    His chuckle was muffled, but audible. “I’m trying seduce you and get you to make out with me. Forget about the unpacking.”
    “Oh,” I said when his fingers found my nipples.
    “Oh,” he said. “I do believe she’s catching on now.”
    “The unpacking can wait.”
    “It can.”
    I peered over my shoulder into his deep brown eyes. “We could at least clear off the counter.”
    He glanced behind us at the island and then quickly back at me with a silent question.
    “It looks like it could be an ideal height.”
    His expression morphed