10. Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Spencer
W hen Lis arrives to pick me up in the morning, she’s wearing a red tank top and black leggings and I remind myself to keep my hands to myself. They itch to touch her, the memory of those curves a constant buzz under my skin. Three hours later, when the clouds that have been threatening all day finally open up and pour, drenching us before we can get to the car, I am still reminding myself to keep my motherfucking hands to myself.
We get to the car and she pops the trunk pulling out a couple of towels, handing one to me and then using the second to scrub Cerberus dry. It only works marginally. She gets him strapped in the back of the car and then climbs in, starting it and cranking the heat, but she’s shivering hard.
I hand her the towel.
“I’d offer you my shirt, but it’s just as wet as yours is,” I say.
She takes the towel with a smile, wrapping it around her shoulders. She hadn’t been wearing a lot of makeup, but her mascara has run. I find a napkin and tilt her face toward me, wiping away the black smears.
She laughs.
“I’m probably a mess. Pass me my purse.”
I grab it from the floor where she’d tossed it after retrieving it from the trunk. She pulls out a packet and takes a wet napkin out. Flipping down the visor, she wipes away the rest of the makeup.
“Is the colour in my hair running?” she asks, trying to tilt the visor down to see.
“I thought you said it was permanent.”
“It is. But it usually runs for a few days. I didn’t notice any when I went for a shower this morning, but I don’t want to get colour on this shirt.”
“You look fine.”
She laughs as she puts the car in drive. “I look like a drowned rat.”
“A very cute drowned rat.”
We chat on the drive back to the city, rain pouring on the car.
“I didn’t think it was going to start raining until tonight,” Lis says as we merge into the traffic heading over the Lions Gate Bridge. “I didn’t bring any extra clothes.”
“You can wear some of mine and we can put yours in the dryer.”
“And Cerberus? He smells like wet dog. He’ll probably just lay there. After all that exercise, he’ll sleep for a few hours before he needs another walk. Those are pretty much his two settings, all out or sleep.”
I glance back at the sleeping dog.
“He’ll be fine. I talked to Vic about it. She said it was okay. What does he do while you’re at work?”
“Sophie usually works from home. So I take him out for a walk or a short run in the morning. I give him his breakfast and Sophie takes him out to go to the bathroom a few times a day. Plays with him a bit during her breaks. Then I take him out again when I get home. Usually to the dog park to throw the ball for a bit.”
We’re finally over the bridge and driving through Stanley Park. The traffic isn’t bad, despite the downpour, and we make it quickly out of the park and then through the city, back to my apartment. I direct her to the underground parking lot where there are a few visitor spots and then we wake Cerberus to go upstairs.
Almost immediately, Lis starts shivering again.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
She nods. “Just cold.”
“You weren’t shivering in the car.”
“But we’re not in the car,” she says through chattering teeth. “And it wasn’t hot enough in there to warm me up properly.”
“Well, let’s get upstairs so you can put on some dry clothes.” I wrap my arm around her and she leans into my body as I lead her to the elevator and then into my apartment.
As soon as we get inside, Cerberus makes himself at home, trotting in and finding a spot on the floor by the heating vent in the living room to curl up and go back to sleep. I give Lis a quick tour, since she hadn’t seen much of the place the last time she was here and I need to consciously stop myself from thinking about the last time we were here.
After I show her the kitchen and living room, she follows me into my bedroom. I find her a pair of sweatpants and my favourite hoodie, that I’ve now started thinking of as hers. Our fingers brush as I hand her the clothes, heat racing up my arms and tingling down my spine, hardening my cock. It doesn’t help that my bed is right there, and I can easily remember us tangled together in the sheets.
I clear my throat. “You can get changed in the bathroom. When you’re done, the closet between the bathroom and kitchen is the laundry. Chuck your clothes in the dryer and I’ll get it turned on.”
She takes the clothes and I’m certain she notices that I’ve given her my Evil Dead hoodie again. She goes into the bathroom, and I close the door to my bedroom to change. I’m just emerging when I hear her start to laugh. I smile at the sound even though I don’t know the joke yet.
“What is it?” I ask.
She just laughs harder and then flings the bathroom door open, arms outstretched to show off her outfit. Her wet hair hangs around her shoulders, which are swamped by my hoodie. The sleeves hang past her fingers. The pants I gave her are staying up, probably because of the drawstring inside, but the pant legs go so far past her feet that I can’t see them. Everything is a mile too big for her and she’s laughing so hard tears are rolling down her cheeks.
Cerberus wakes up from where he’d parked himself and wanders over on his stubby legs to see what the commotion is about.
“How do I look?” Lis asks.
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Perfect. I say none of these because I know she doesn’t want to hear about how much I’m falling for her. And I am. Every second I spend in her company, I fall further and further and I can’t seem to stop the descent.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. They fit perfectly.”
She laughs again and I kneel to help her roll up the pant legs. She holds my shoulder for balance as she lifts one foot and then the other. I roll each one up, revealing bright red toenails on each foot. My fingers brush her skin, probably more than is strictly necessary. I don’t exactly care.
When I stand again, she looks up at me with wide, green eyes. She is so hot, wearing my clothes, surrounded by me, my hoodie and sweatpants almost marking her as mine.
But she doesn’t want to be mine.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to wear nail polish in the kitchen,” I say.
She blinks as though coming out of a dream and then rolls her eyes. “I don’t cook with my feet, Spencer.” She hands me a bundle of clothes. “Everything is soaked. Except my underwear, thank God.” I take the clothes and shove them into the dryer with mine.
Then I notice a black garment still in the bathroom, hanging from the towel rack.
“What about that?”
She flushes pink and I’m overwhelmed with the need to kiss her for a moment, struggling to get it under control.
“My bra got soaked as well. But it has to hang dry.”
My brain short circuits. She had been wearing a black, lacy bra. Now, she’s wearing my hoodie and no bra. All I need to do is slide my hands under the hem along her silky skin. Just a few inches up to reach the soft swell—
I turn to the dryer, fiddling with the dials and pressing start, trying to contain the lust that is currently eating me alive.
“Okay,” I say. “Time to make you lunch.”
She follows me into the kitchen. “You know, I’m the chef. I should be making you lunch.”
“Don’t worry. I only know how to make one thing. So you can do all the cooking after this.” I send her a wink over my shoulder as I get the ingredients out of the fridge that I’d prepped this morning.
She leans against the counter out of the way, her arms hidden in the sleeves of my hoodie and wrapped around herself. “What are you making?”
“It’s a melted Havarti and prosciutto on brioche.”
She presses her lips together and I know she’s fighting a smile. “You’re making me a grilled ham and cheese sandwich?”
“Well, if you’re going to take that attitude—”
“No. It sounds awesome.” Her eyes are shining as I get everything ready, watching me.
“I admit, it’s a little intimidating having a chef watching me cook.”
Finally, she laughs. “Why don’t I go sit at the table?” She motions to the dining room on the other side of the pass through. “You feel intimidated, and I feel awkward being in the kitchen and not cooking.”
“Well, here. You can do this then.” I pull the popcorn and hot chocolate from the cupboard.
She looks down at the packages with an eyebrow lifted. “You want me to make powdered hot chocolate?”
“How else do you make it?”
“From scratch,” she says, but she moves to the microwave and gets the popcorn started.
“You’ll have to teach me how to do that,” I tell her. “But I doubt we have what we need.”
“Where are your pots?”
I show her, bemused as she gets one and the milk from the fridge, pouring it into the pot with the hot chocolate mix, whisking them together.
“Do you have any chocolate chips, or vanilla, or cinnamon?” she asks.
“No, no, and yes. There.” I point it out and she adds some to the pot. Then we continue working in silence, side-by-side. After a minute, she looks up at me with the sweetest smile and my heart clenches with the desire to take her into my arms and kiss her.
“That smells delicious,” she tells me.
For a second, we stare at each other and I have a sudden vision of doing this with her, working side-by-side, building a partnership. And I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I blink and turn back to the pan with the sandwiches before I do something stupid.
Once we’re done with the food and drinks, I get everything plated and poured and we bring it to the living room, settling on the couch while Cerberus snores in the spot he claimed on the floor. I’d already put the DVD into the player before I left this morning, so I just have to turn everything on, but as we sit, I notice Lis shiver hard.
“You still cold?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’ll be fine. It just takes me a long time to warm up.”
I jump up and go to my room, grabbing the blanket off my bed. Then I sit in the corner of the couch and hold out my arms. “Come here.”
She looks at me and the blanket for a long time and I can see the debate in her eyes. Part of me wants to reassure her it’s something I would do for a friend. The words would be true. But the intent behind them would be a lie. I want her next to me. I want her back in my arms. Even though it’ll probably kill me.