20. Smell like a.
Smell like a...
Elena
There has to be a connection. I’m sure of it.
I just need to remember.
Flipping through the stack of photos and papers that Wade brought, the corners start to show signs of how many times I’ve shuffled through them.
Some are spread out in matching sets. Similar faces that trigger vague memories.
Cynthia is depending on me. Despite all the fun and games I have teasing Wade, she’s my main focus.
I just keep feeling like I’m missing something.
A wave of hot air washing over me makes me glance up to see Wade’s silhouette stepping through the front door.
“You’re home early. Not enough people speeding?” Instinctively, I jump up and move into the kitchen.
“Rough morning.” He lets out a sigh, but doesn’t elaborate.
The firm set of his jaw and distant gaze reminds me of when my father would come home from work. Years of tiptoeing around him ingrained me to never look idle.
“Want some water?” Pulling a glass out, I don’t wait for Wade’s reply before pushing it into the fridge door for the ice maker to fill it.
“Elena, you don’t have to wait on me,” he grunts, dropping onto his chair at the table. His dark eyes sweep over the piles of papers. “Hard at it, huh?”
“I’m worried about my sister,” I admit softly, sliding the chilled cup to him before folding my foot under me to sit in my spot. “I’ll get it cleaned up by dinner.” As if to prove my point, I start sliding some of the small stacks together.
His thick finger circles the top of his drink slowly. “You love her very much.”
That makes me pause. “Of course I do. I’d do anything for her.”
He tilts the glass making the cubes clink against the side. “Do you do that for everyone you care about?”
What is he asking me? “Yes. When my mom started declining, I didn’t leave her. I picked up a second job so she didn’t have to work. I bathed her myself when she’d get so wasted she’d puke on herself.”
He blinks rapidly, starting at some distant place on the wall. “You didn’t leave her?”
“That’s a ridiculous accusation, Wade. You don’t do that to people you love.
” I’m starting to wonder what the hell he’s getting at, so a little heat falls into my tone.
“And when CPS came to get Cynthia? They had to bring three fucking men to hold me back because I tried to run off the social worker with a chair leg.”
The frown that he’s worn since he sat starts to lift at the corner. “Now that’s an image.”
I stare at him for a moment. I still don’t know what he’s getting at.
“I don’t have a very big circle. But anyone that’s in it, I’d kill for. I feel bad for those people at that farm. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Except, they were strangers to me. My sister is more important.” I hold my breath, waiting for some sort of retort.
He doesn’t say anything.
Picking up his water, his Adam’s apple bobs with several long swallows, then he puts it down into the ring of condensation it left on the table.
“I’m glad,” he exhales. “Loyalty is so fucking rare nowadays.” His teeth clench, then he stands.
When he raises his arm to start unbuttoning his uniform, the thick muscle of his arm makes the fabric snug.
I swear it’s going to rip one of these days if he really flexed.
“I’m gonna go work out for a while,” he says without looking at me, then disappears in the hall towards his room.
What happened today? He’s acting so distracted.
Is he upset about something that happened at work? Why is he questioning my morals?
All I can do is try to figure out what’s in front of me.
It isn’t my place to ask him.
Just keep my head down, find my sister, and then I can leave.
Except this is the first time I’ve felt comfortable in months.
Years.
Ever?
Growing up, every day was riddled with fear of my dad. Then, when he left, it was the terror he’d find us.
That shifted to how would we survive? Mom could barely keep a roof over us, and we had to move a lot because she’d have a hard time paying the rent.
What am I going to do after I find Cynthia? I’ll cross that bridge later. I can get another job, buy another car.
There’s no way I’ll leave her. Not until my heart beats for the last time.
The fact he’d even suggest I’d abandon Mom irritates me. Or was he suggesting I might give up on my sister? My own family?
By the time he steps out of his room, I’m pissed.
I don’t care if I can see the ripples in his abs under his tight t-shirt. And the long definition of muscles in his thick thighs where his little gray shorts stop.
The way his veins pop in his forearms when he squeezes his towel before draping it over his broad shoulders.
Fucker.
All sexy and shit. It takes some of the cranky out of me when he tosses me a lop sided smile, then heads downstairs.
Be that way.
He really does look distracted.
Maybe a good meal will help? In a few quick movements, I have the sorted piles of papers organized in a neat stack on an end table against the counter.
Every week I’ve gotten slightly more creative with dinner since he buys me everything I put on the list. I remember him telling me once about how good the pork chops were that his friend’s wife cooks.
There’s a part of me that wants to make them better. Then he’ll marvel at how delicious my food is.
My knife pauses mid-stroke.
I want him to like me. Not think of me as a criminal.
But as something positive in his life.
He might be gruff and growly, yet he’s opened his home to me. He made himself vulnerable to a total stranger.
I know he told me because of obligation. Yet he takes care of me, listens, even respects me.
Many men would have taken advantage by now.
Not Wade. Sometimes, there’s almost a tinge of sadness in his eyes that looks like it holds him back. As if a part of him really does want more, but he’s fighting it.
When that deputy bitch showed up last week, it hurt me to see her antagonizing him.
Shit. Is he in my circle?
Stirring the gravy, I hear his steady footfalls echoing while he runs on the treadmill below. I can almost picture him sweating, breathing hard, his body flexing and pushing with every step.
Whatever discomfort he’s feeling tonight, there’s a part of me that wants to take it away.
It makes my belly tighten and my heart beat faster at the idea of soothing his pain. Of making him forget whatever he’s seen.
Or maybe it’s so I can lose touch of the world for a while myself.
I’m sliding the loaded plates on the table when the downstairs door shuts, the signal that he’s coming up.
My timing is perfect.
“Feel better? All worn out?” I pick up a cherry tomato from the salad and pop it between my lips.
His damp coppery hair is plastered to his forehead and doesn’t move when he nods.
“Some days are easier than others.” He slumps into his chair, then raises his elbow and sniffs, wrinkling his nose. “Shit, I reek. I’m sorry. I’m gonna out-smell this amazing dinner. I should go shower first.”
“You smell like a man. And don’t be silly, it’ll be cold by then.” I don’t know if I should admit just how turned on I am by it.
He cuts off a slice of meat and slathers it with mashed potatoes and gravy.
As he chews, he seems to melt into his chair. “This is amazing. How’d you learn to cook like a chef?”
I know he’s exaggerating, but it still makes me giggle. “I grew up eating nothing but air and water. I’ve spent years dreaming about what it would be like to prepare real food.” I want to add, in a real kitchen.
But I don’t even want to admit to myself how meager my childhood really was.
Wade’s gaze darkens. “I hate that you had to struggle.” His head shakes as he scoops up another bite. “I promise you’ll never go hungry here.”
The moment grows heavy, then he clears his throat and pushes up to go to the fridge. “Want a beer?” he asks over his shoulder.
“Sure. Only if you tell me what’s bugging you?” I raise my eyebrows and look up at him imploringly when he sets the chilled bottle next to me.
“Fuck.” He collapses back into his chair and runs his palm over his face. “It was a mess. You don’t want to hear about it.”
I lean forward and slide my fingers over his wrist. “I do. Maybe it will help?”
His amber eyes bore into my knuckles so fiercely they begin to tingle.
Then he sighs.
“About three months ago, had a guy come home and found his wife in bed with another man. He shot them both and fled the scene, but took a jug of scotch. He probably would have escaped if he hadn’t gotten shit faced while driving and hit an SUV carrying a family of four.
” He takes a long inhale, then exhales in a low rumble.
“This morning I had to testify at his trial.”
“Oh damn.” I think I forget sometimes just how much he probably sees at his job. “What happened to all the people?”
“Wife and her lover died. The family, for the most part, are okay. Well, they all survived. The little boy lost an arm.” He falls quiet, moving his salad around on his plate.
“Is that why you called it off with the deputy?” I don’t want to think about Wade and that woman together. The timing makes sense though.
His eyes squeeze shut. “That was just a damn mistake that should have never happened. Her husband is a solid guy, he doesn’t deserve that.”
“Then…why? A sexy man like you could probably find anyone he wants.” Except he better not.
I don’t think I could handle that.
He pulls his arm away from me. “Before you got here, I was never in this house. I just, well, worked. A lot. I’m not fit for a relationship.
” His broad shoulders rise and fall. “It’s easy to want to ride someone else’s horse so you don’t have to clean out the stall.
” He flashes me a grin, then it droops into a frown.
“Except I still had to deal with her shit.”
I fill up my fork, then chew thoughtfully for a moment.
“I had this pair of short heels I loved, they were so comfortable. There was this really busy night while I was waitressing tables, and the left one broke. I had to borrow another girl’s shoes for the rest of my shift.
I had blisters for a week because they weren’t mine.
” My lips purse remembering the lingering ache.
“If I had it to do again, I’d have just gone barefoot instead of using something that didn’t belong to me.
” I pin him with a long stare, hoping he catches what I’m really trying to say.
His gaze finally wavers, dropping to my mouth, then down to his empty dish. “These were the best damn chops I’ve ever had.”
That makes me feel all bubbly inside. “Really?” I mean, they are pretty yummy.
“Yep. I take food seriously.” He smiles and leans back, rubbing an arc over his flat stomach.
“Aw, thank you, daddy.” I bat my lashes, teasing him to lighten the mood.
It seems to work, because he lets out a low chuckle as he gathers our plates. “I told you about calling me that.”
“Uh huh. I keep waiting on that spanking you promised.” I pick up my beer and half dance towards my room.
There’s a part of me that wants him to follow.
He almost looks like he might. Pausing at the sink, he watches me with half-lidded eyes until he turns on the faucet. “Good night, Elena.” He shuts me down, focusing instead on filling the dishwasher.
I used to want him to give in because I thought I could take advantage of him to escape. But he’s trying to help me more than I ever expected.
Now, I just want him. Yet I can’t understand why he keeps saying no?