Chapter 8 #2
“Yeah, I mean, I know you work for the agency, but you don’t work for me directly, right? Friends hang out, share meals together.”
“Meals you make or buy. This seems one-sided.”
“Hey, you brought breakfast this week.”
“I did, but I had to get here almost an hour early. If I told you I was bringing it, you would have protested.”
“So, I’m old-school.”
“That would be sweet if we were dating, but we’re not. I clean your house.” I mean, let’s call a spade a spade here. Besides, saying the words out loud, reminding myself that this crush of mine can’t go anywhere, is what I need to do to keep my heart in check.
“We talk, and we share meals, and we go places together. We’re friends.” He says it as if his word is gospel, with no room for argument. It’s fine, as long as I keep reminding myself that this crush won’t go any further.
I stand to clean our mess, but he reaches out and grabs my wrist to stop me.
“Sit, Eden. You’re not working. It’s after hours, and I want to watch a movie with my friend.
” The look in his eyes, paired with the gentle timbre of his voice, has me parking my ass back on the couch.
This time, I’m sitting a little closer than before.
He adjusts his position and ends up even closer.
It’s fine.
Everything is fine.
I’m a big girl. I can handle sitting next to him. He’s just a man.
A sexy, sweet, kind, funny, caring man.
Shit.
Another movie starts, and I force myself to relax and enjoy it. This is the best-case scenario. I get to spend time with him with no pressure, no expectations, and no chance of getting my heart broken.
Not fifteen minutes in, a chill washes over me, and I shiver.
Foster hops off the couch and races upstairs.
He’s back in no time with the softest blanket I’ve ever felt and tosses it over my lap.
He doesn’t stop there. He, too, slides beneath the cover, putting us in even closer proximity.
The left side of my body is aligned with his right.
Everything is not fine.
His masculine smell washes over me, and I make a mental note to look at the cologne he wears. Then again, maybe it’s his body wash? Laundry detergent? Whatever it is, it’s heavenly, and I find myself leaning into him.
That’s how he ends up wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into him. No words are exchanged as I rest my head against his chest, and we watch the rest of the movie.
This time, when the credits roll, I’m not quick to stand. I need to. I need to detach myself from him and go home, but I linger just a few seconds longer than required. When I tell myself this is the final second, he runs his hand gently down my back.
“Good movie,” he rumbles, his voice thick. Sexy.
“Yeah,” I agree as I sit up. He doesn’t try to stop me, and I’m torn. Part of me is glad, and the other wants him to carry me to his bed and have his way with me.
It’s past time for me to go, with thoughts like that racing through my head.
Standing, I clean up our mess, place all the leftover pizza into one box, and slide it onto a shelf in his massive fridge. By the time I make it back to the living room, he has the blanket folded and tossed over the back of the couch, and he lifts his arms and runs his fingers through his hair.
“It’s late. You could stay.”
Oh, how I wish I could stay. “Thank you, but I don’t have far to go. Besides, you need your beauty sleep for your big day tomorrow.”
A deep rumble of laughter fills the air around us. “Just hanging out with the guys and their families.”
“Either way, we should both get some rest. Thank you for dinner and the movies. It was a nice night.” I step into him and wrap my arms around him in a hug. Foster doesn’t disappoint as he hugs me back, his strong arms locking around me.
“Next time,” I say, pulling out of our embrace, “dinner is on me.”
“We’ll see.” He chuckles.
I point at him. “I mean it.” I give him a stern look before picking up my shoes and walking toward the door. I make quick work of shoving them into my bag and sliding into the others.
“Yes, ma’am,” he rasps right behind me. His hand finds its way to the small of my back. “Text me and let me know you got home okay.”
“It’s not that late,” I tease.
“Eden.”
“Fine, Mr. Vaughn, I’ll check in when I get home,” I say over my shoulder, reaching for the handle of the door.
He leans forward, placing his lips next to my ear, and murmurs, “Good girl.”
Shit.
My entire body shivers. I don’t know if it’s from his hot breath or his words. Either way, it’s way past time for me to go. With a turn of the handle, I step out onto the front porch. I want to look back, but I keep moving toward my car, not giving in to temptation.
“Text me!” he calls, and I turn at the last second on instinct, and see him standing on the front porch, barefoot, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes laser-focused on me.
“Night, Mr. Vaughn.”
“Good night, Eden,” he rasps.
I don’t remember the drive home. However, as soon as I’m in my apartment, I reach for my phone and text him.
Me: Made it home safe and sound.
Foster: Good. Goodnight, Eden.
Me: Night, Foster.
Tonight was unexpected, but also incredible. I need to be stronger next time and say no. Many more nights like tonight and my crush will be… more, and I can’t afford for it to be more. We might share backgrounds to a degree, but his life and mine are like two different worlds.