Chapter 11 #2
His hand raises above his eyes and he stands on his tip toes.
“No.” His gaze falls back to the ladder and his shoulders slump as his bottom lip slips between his teeth.
“Maybe. I don't think I'll make this weekend's farmer market either.” His brows turn down and he jumps up when I rest a hand on his shoulder.
“You have two days. A lot can be done in two days. Especially when you have a neighbor who’s always coming to your rescue.” I tilt my head and his lips curl into a smile.
“That does make a difference. I hate to keep imposing on him though. I'm sure he has some secret mission to go on or needs to rip down some wanted posters nearby.”
I laugh, stepping closer and rub a smudge of dirt from his cheek. “That can all wait until tomorrow.” I wink.
His eyes widen as my thumb closed in on the corner of his mouth, rubbing peach juice into his skin. “Someones been eating on the job.”
“Yeah…I uh skipped dinner.”
My jaw tightens, my ears burning and not liking the sound of that. I don't like him not taking care of himself. That becomes more and more clear to me each day. “Set the ladder down and follow me,” I say, making a beeline for his house.
He grabs the basket and jogs after me, his shorter legs struggling to keep up as I march forward. “Wait. Where are we going?”
“You can't keep working out here on an empty stomach. I bet you haven't drank anything in a long time either.” I open the door, standing to the side until he enters the house first.
Not responding, he doesn't meet my eyes and the silence is all the answer I need. I grit my teeth, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. “Here, drink,” I demand, handing it to him.
He jumps forward, his fingers colliding with mine briefly before he yanks them back. “Okay, okay.” He takes a long sip and as he's lowering the bottle, I push at the bottom.
“More.”
He does as I say, his eyes staying on mine as he finishes off the whole bottle. The plastic smashes between his fingers and he wags it in the air. “There. Happy?”
“Almost. Sit. I'll fix you something to eat.” I rummage through the cabinets, finding nothing but canned soup, Ramen and mac n cheese. “I thought you were going to the grocery store today?”
“I did.” He sits on one of the stools next to the kitchen island.
“Doesn't look like it.” Ten minutes after digging through his freezer, I stumble upon some shrimp.
I run hot water over the bag and grab some broccoli I saw in the fridge when I fetched him some water.
He watches as I busy myself in his kitchen, heating up the pan on the stove and using the small amount of olive oil in a glass bottle by the large green jar of spatulas.
“Do you often barge into people's kitchens and make them dinner?”
“No but no one has ever been as bad at taking care of themselves as you are.”
“And why is that any of your concern?” He leans back, sending me a cocky grin.
“Why isn't it any of yours?”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
Blowing out a breath of air. I scoop the food onto a plate after making sure it's cooked all the way and set it in front of him. “I guess it's not but that stray cat my brother keeps taking care of isn't any of his either but he does it anyway.”
He gawks at me, mouth parting. “Are you comparing me to a stray cat?”
“Maybe,” I say, smiling wider as I look over the peaches in the basket. “You going to sell only the fruit or make jam like some of the other tables do?”
Standing up, he moves to grab a fork but I beat him to it. He snatches it from my hand, looking up at me as he sits back down. “I'm not a stray cat.”
I laugh. “You're really stuck on that, huh? You know there are worse things to be compared to.”
“There are better ones too,” he barks out, his lips forming into a pout and fuck I want to kiss them. Not yet. But maybe a quick peck won't hurt. My mouth goes dry. Yeah, no way will I be able to stop there.
“There's nothing wrong with stray cats. They are cute and make good company over time. Or at least from what I hear.” I lift a peach from the basket, stroking the soft skin and his breaths quicken.
“Over time, huh? So have I reached that stage yet?” He licks at his fork, rolling his tongue over the tip and my cock stiffens.
I set the peach down in front of him, closing the gap between us and I lift a piece of broccoli to his mouth.
Eyes darkening, he spreads his lips, accepting my offering with his warm tongue gliding along my fingers.
I feed him another and he moves forward, meeting me halfway with more enthusiasm this time.
I shove my fingers deeper into his mouth, rubbing over the roof of his mouth and he sucks the sauce from my skin.
A low humming sound crawling up his throat causes my hand to vibrate, the sensation running straight to my already hard cock.
He bucks his hips, taking me deeper and adding less suction as his tongue explores as much as he can reach.
I get so close to his throat, he gags and pulls back. His cheeks tint a pretty pink.
“You have three more left. It’s important to eat all your veggies.” I grab the fork before he can and stab the other end into one of the short stemmed vegetables and direct it toward his mouth. When I pick up another from the plate, I lead it to my mouth and close my teeth around it.
His forehead wrinkles, throat bobbing as he swallows hard and I slurp the other piece halfway into my mouth. “I thought I was supposed to be eating that.”
Lowering my face to his, I inch my lips closer and rub the broccoli over his partly open mouth.
Those pretty glistening lips spread wider and his teeth close around the top.
Our lips brush and I back away, releasing the food when he has a better hold of it.
His chest heavily rises and falls when I repeat my last action.
He grabs the food from me again and as soon as our lips touch again, I smash my mouth to his and push the broccoli deep into his mouth, licking my way inside and over the seam of his savory mouth.
His eyes are as wide as saucers, lips trembling and lift the bottom of my shirt to wipe his mouth clean.
“Get the basket empty and I’ll take care of these dishes.
” I take them to the sink, leaving him frozen in his seat.
He doesn’t move until I’m done drying his plate and placing it back in the cabinet.
His feet slowly touch the floor as I’m scrubbing down the table and he takes careful steps toward the counter and removes each peach from the basket, carefully placing them on the counter.
“You never told me what you planned to do with the peaches?” I glance back, lifting the rag mid air.
“I…” His fingers play with the basket handle. “Jam. My brother and I used to make it with my mom when we were younger. We had peach trees growing up. I plan to use her famous pie recipe too and if they turn out alright, I’ll see if I can sell them.”
“So you’re not much of a cook but can bake?”
His shoulders lift. “My mother only ever made baked goods with me and she was one of those parents who ordered food every chance she got. My brother seems to be the same way. I guess it runs in the family.”
“I’m sure you could learn. Anyone can. At least basic stuff.”
“You going to show me?” He purses his lips.
“Sure…right after I help you pick fruit for this weekend, catch more of your escape artist animals, and bandage you back up after the next time you fall.”
“I didn’t ask for any of that,” he quips.
“And I’m sure the stray cat outside my brother’s house didn’t ask to be brought in to cuddle in his warm bed for the night either but I bet that’s exactly what's happening right now.”
“I really wish you’d stop comparing me to a stray cat.”
“I will once you stop wandering around like you need someone to bring you home and take care of you.”
“You saying you want to take me to your warm bed to cuddle?” His eyes twinkle, blinking up at me.
“No, little bo.” I stalk across the room, placing my hand on the basket over his. “When I bring someone to my bed, it's for reasons other than cuddling.”
He starts and stops, breath catching in his throat.
I yank the basket from him, smirking. “Let's hurry and collect the rest of the fruit you need before it gets too dark.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” he stammers.
He wants answers I don't want him to have yet.
He doesn't really want them either. This guessing game we've been playing excites him way too much and I don't know if we'll lose that when I finally reveal the truth.
I'm not ready to find out. “Because I saw it written on the box when your package was delivered to the wrong house.”
His face flushes. “You got my package?”
“Yeah. I figured it was yours. The name fit well. Then I decided I liked using it.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” I repeat.
“What if I want you to stop calling me that?”
“Do you?”
He looks around the room, licking his lips and then gently shakes his head.
“I thought not.” My lips stretch. “Now come on little bo, time waits for no one.”