Chapter 21
DOMESTIC DISASTERS
21
After the elevator debacle, which has me seriously wondering if Killian will ever fit in a world where there are no grand gestures or over-the-top heroics, I have to focus on my research. I send Killian to explore the town, begging him not to get into trouble before I give him a spare key to my apartment.
“Alright, Sugar,” he says with a wink, leaving me alone in the computer science lab.
And I swear I do not ogle his retreating butt as he departs. Once he’s gone, I try to concentrate on my work, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Killian. Where did he come from? Who is he? Is he really here to stay? And if he is, can he adapt to the toned-down, practical, mundane life of real people? There are no answers…
As the afternoon wears on, I force myself to push my distractions aside. I need to prove to Dr. Hammond—and to myself—that I am more than capable of succeeding in this field, no matter the obstacles thrown in my way.
When I finally make it back to my apartment that evening, I’m surprised to find Killian already there. The rich, comforting scent of something delicious fills the small space, and I can’t help but smile as I take in the busy kitchen.
“Hey, Sugar,” Killian greets me, looking up from where he’s stirring a pot on the stove. “Thought I’d surprise you with dinner.”
“Wow,” I say, dropping my bag on the floor and approaching the counter. “What are you making? It smells amazing.”
“Your boxed mac and cheese,” he replies. “But I’ve added some special touches to make it extra delicious.”
He’s looking extra delicious, too. I sit down at the bar, where the warmth of the oven mixes with the enticing aromas of herbs and spices, and a different cozy heat that has nothing to do with cooking wraps around me.
As we eat dinner, we talk about our day—studiously avoiding the almost kiss in the elevator. Killian asks me why I was so upset that morning, and I explain the situation with my advisor more in depth. He listens intently, his expression growing concerned.
“Why can’t you just change advisors?” he asks. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of treatment.”
“Because, as much of a chauvinist as he is, Dr. Hammond is the best in his field,” I reply, sighing. “Plus, it’s never a good look to be a complainer, especially for a woman.”
Killian nods, understanding but clearly not happy about it. We finish our meal and clean up the kitchen together. Then it’s time to get ready for bed. I head toward the bathroom, determined to beat him to it tonight, but when I reach for the knob, my hand closes on empty space.
I frown down at the hole in the door where the handle used to be. “Killian?” I ask. “Did something happen to the door?”
“Ah, yes.” He flashes me a self-conscious grin. “I was trying to fix the lock but the handle sort of fell off instead.”
I fight not to pinch my nose. “What did I say about no more heroic rescues?”
“Fixing a lock hardly seemed heroic.”
I shake my head and go look for some duct tape to patch the hole. By the time I find it, Killian has already finished in the bathroom and is under the covers.
“Are you sure you don’t want the floor?” I ask, almost hopelessly, after brushing my teeth. “Aren’t cowboys supposed to enjoy the firm ground as a mattress and a hard rock as their pillow?”
“What’s up, Sugar Spoon? You didn’t seem to mind me too much last night?” The jerk waggles his eyebrows.
I blush. “I just get cold during the night and naturally gravitate toward heat sources.”
“Then I’m happy to be your personal heated blanket.”
The way he says it, the teasing curl of his lips, and how he keeps his gaze trained on me. If those eyes get any more suggestive, he might turn into a one-man bonfire, and I into a marshmallow, ready to burn and melt. The smolder in his gray irises could set off smoke alarms—but we’ve had enough red alerts for today, right? I don’t suppose Evanston FD would tolerate a second call from the two of us in the span of twelve hours.
I swallow, slipping under the covers on my side of the bed and inevitably ending up sprawled on him during the night. We both politely ignore the fact the next morning.
Tuesday is a research day for me. I go to the lab alone, leaving Killian to explore more of the campus. When night arrives and I return home, I find a surprise waiting for me.
“Guess what, Sugar?” Killian says, eyes sparkling. “I got a job bartending at a sports bar.”
“Really? Which one?”
“The Blackhawk.”
“That’s great!” I exclaim, genuinely happy for him. “They didn’t ask for any ID?”
“The owner is not too scrupulous about paperwork. I did a trial shift, and they hired me on the spot.” He sounds proud. For someone used to handling millions of dollars, I’m impressed he’d take on an ordinary bartending gig without complaint. Then I remember his words of the other day about reinventing himself and hope he’ll enjoy working at a sports bar. “I got some groceries with my share of the day’s tips.”
As Killian moves around the kitchen, crafting yet another sure-to-be-delicious meal, I’m struck once again by a warmth that has nothing to do with the stove’s heat. It’s a dangerous comfort, one that wraps around me like a soft blanket, tempting me to snuggle in deeper. A part of me knows I should maintain some emotional distance, but the way Killian tastes a spoonful of sauce and then grins at me makes resistance seem like a lost cause.
After dinner, we curl up in bed together, as is now the norm. And to celebrate the last day of my Netflix subscription, we pick a late-night comedy, laughing our heads off the entire time. I’m watching a movie with a book character I conjured out of my head. It should be the weirdest thing in the world, but for whatever reason, it feels just right.
In fact, as Wednesday evening creeps in, and Killian is not here because he’s working, it’s his absence that feels wrong. The air is heavy with silence. I hadn’t realized how accustomed I’ve become to the sound of his laughter, the warmth of his voice filling every corner of the room, until now. With him gone for his night shift, the emptiness carves a hollow space inside me.
“Get a grip, Leighton,” I mutter to myself as I wander into the kitchen. But even as I chastise myself, my heart flip-flops when I open the fridge and find a pre-made meal waiting for me. There, on top of a neatly wrapped plate, is a handwritten note:
Microwave for three minutes, even you can’t screw that up—K.
My cheeks warm at Killian’s playful jab, but it’s the tenderness woven into his gesture that sends a flutter through my heart. Killian, with his effortless charm and disarming smiles, seems like an impossible man not to fall for hard and fast. But is he just a dream that slips away at dawn? The thought of him staying, really staying, spins a web of hope and fear inside me. Will he still want the real me—the one with morning breath and a cranky attitude before coffee—when the novelty fades? Doubts nag at me. No one’s ever wanted me before. Why would he, with a world of options at his feet, choose to stay with someone as unremarkably real as me?
I shake off the fears swirling in my mind and focus on heating dinner. He’s right, even I can operate a microwave without incidents and get to enjoy another delicious meal.
After I’ve eaten, I head to bed alone. No more Netflix. I’m too tired to work, and reading feels almost dangerous now, after what happened the last time I picked up a book. I’m in the mood for a steamy romantasy novel with dragons. But what if I get too immersed in the story and a fire-breathing dragon pops into my apartment uninvited? One book character to contend with is more than enough. I should just sleep.
Still, I take the mysterious book out of my underwear drawer to check if more chapters have appeared. And indeed, they have. I re-live the elevator incident as I read it. And the sexually charged chapter does nothing to ease my nerves. Makes things worse if possible.
I toss and turn; the sheets tangle around me as I try to find a comfortable position. The bed feels too big without Killian next to me. My thoughts run wild, spinning out endless questions that I can’t answer.
The clock ticks away the minutes, and still, Killian isn’t back. I didn’t even think to ask what time he gets off. How has he become such an integral part of my routine in just a few days? Life has turned infinitely more interesting since he stepped out of the pages of that book and into my world. And as scary as it might be to admit it, I’m not ready for this story to end just yet.