Just One Kiss

“I met this girl last night.”

“Yeah?” Daniel got up and grabbed a bag of pretzel twists from the counter, brought it back to the table. Jake had a genius for interacting with the opposite sex. Women found his puppy-dog dark eyes brimming with humor and short stocky body unthreatening. Before they knew it, he’d literally charmed the pants off of them. Few relationships lasted longer than a month or two, but Jake kept trying, claiming he’d eventually stumble over the great love his parents had. “How come you slept here last night, you strike out?”

“She’s not for me.” Jake tipped his beer bottle toward Daniel. “Your type. Brainy, petite, high-energy.”

Daniel’s grin faded abruptly. “You know I can’t—”

“Yes, I know.” He rolled his eyes and made his fingers “talk” like a sock puppet. “You promised Kate you wouldn’t date until your wedding date, which, after a year and a half of celibacy is still six months away.”

“Jake …” Daniel warned.

Jake put down his hand. “Cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Punishment.” Daniel chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. He and Kate had been looking toward their wedding day for so long, planning, dreaming, fantasizing. How could Daniel even think about another woman before that date had passed?

Okay, maybe he could think about other women. Once in a while. Like now, when Angela’s luminous face had come into his head again. “You don’t understand.”

“Why wouldn’t she leave it to you to decide when you were ready to move on? Wouldn’t you know better than she would?”

Daniel narrowed his eyes, tamping down the instant flash of temper. “Lay off Kate.”

“Someone needs to say this shit, Daniel. She had you by the testicles while she was alive, now you’re moping around like you buried your balls with her.” He leaned forward, eyes earnest, dark hair falling forward, in spite of the gel he tried to keep it combed back with. “Dig ‘em up, dude! Start living again! Go out with a woman, or two, or three. You’re not being unfaithful, Kate is gone.”

“I know she’s gone.” Daniel spoke through his teeth. “I feel it every day.”

“Because you haven’t tried to get past it.”

Anger rose so fiercely Daniel had to white-knuckle his beer to keep from punching Jake in the mouth. “What the hell do you know about it?”

“Everything.”

His answer shocked some of Daniel’s anger out of him. “How?”

“My high school girlfriend. We dated three years. Aneurism. She was there—” he snapped his fingers “—then she wasn’t. But you know what? That was her life ending. Mine went on.”

“So you climbed on top of the next babe who came along and that fixed everything?”

“Yes, I did and no, it didn’t. But dating after her death didn’t mean I never loved her or that I didn’t miss her. I still do sometimes. But I sure as hell didn’t serve some bullshit two-year sentence crying over my dick in my own hand.”

“Shut the f—”

“I’m telling you, you bury yourself in that shit, your life might as well be over, too.”

“Stop.” Daniel stood abruptly, chair scraping over the hardwood floor.

“Okay.” Jake held up both hands. “Okay. Calm down.”

“Don’t ever say that crap about Kate again.”

“Okay. I was out of line. I was right, but I was out of line.”

Daniel stayed where he was, trying to get his breathing under control. Most of the time he believed strongly that people could think and say what they wanted, it was no skin off his ass. But Jake’s words had cut deep. “You want this steak or not?”

“Sure, man.” Jake nodded. “Sure. You need any help?”

“No.” He turned to the stove and started a pan heating. By the time the steak was ready to be turned, he’d calmed down some. After they’d finished it—Daniel had more appetite than he expected, and the steak was damn good—he was tired of Jake’s apologetically cheerful conversation, and just wanted to retreat to his room and reconnect with Kate over the cupcakes.

“I’m going out with Mark tonight. You want to come?”

“No, thanks.” Daniel took his plate to the dishwasher.

“Do you good. Take your mind off the bad stuff.”

“I’m staying in.”

Jake shrugged. “Okay. Your choice.”

“Yeah, how about that.”

Jake chuckled. “I won’t say another word.”

“I doubt that.”

“Not tonight anyway.” He put his own plate in the dishwasher and slapped Daniel on the back. “It gets better.”

“So I hear.”

“And it will get better a lot faster if you—” He saw the look on Daniel’s face and backed up, hands lifted again. “Right. I’m going. I’m gone.”

A few minutes later the kitchen was clean, the front door closed behind Jake. Daniel went into his room with the cupcakes and put on Kate’s favorite CD, Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos.

The music filled the room, poignant and throaty, gut-wrenchingly evocative. Daniel drifted back toward the desk, throat thickening, remembering Kate singing along, horribly out of tune, which had grated on his nerves. The memory seemed so endearing now. In a trance, he carefully untied the burgundy and gold ribbons he hadn’t wanted on the box and lifted the lid.

What the—

Chocolate. There was a chocolate cupcake nestled in red paper in the center of the white ones he’d asked for, devil amidst the angels. Angela. Her face rose in his mind again, pretty mouth curved in a smile, eyes brimming with mischief as she handed him the box after her mysterious disappearance into the back room.

The tiniest burst of light skittered through his chest. He found himself half smiling. Angela had guessed he was a chocolate guy, and made sure he got what she was so sure he’d like. The gesture was a little weird. But also … oddly sweet.

The light in his chest burst again. She’d been tall, as he remembered. Maybe five-seven or five-eight. Kate had been tiny, five-three to his six feet two inches, but with wiry strength that continually astounded him. Any and all obstacles buckled from the sheer force of Kate’s determination.

And she’d been determined he not date until their wedding day had passed. Her last wish, whispered as her young, promising life left her. Daniel had been so devastated he would have promised her anything.

He pulled up his desk chair and sat, rubbing his hands on his jean-clad thighs. He could smell the chocolate, wafting up like temptation from the innocent vanilla surrounding it.

His finger swiped through rich, dark frosting, lifted it to his mouth.

Ohh, man. Real chocolate, killer chocolate. Bitter and sweet, with a tang of some kind—sour cream?