Chapter 5 Lofton #2
“Depends if it was funny or not.” Carrying his plate, he walked the long way around the L- shaped island so he didn’t have to pass me and settled on a stool. “It’s good to see you finally up. I was just debating what to bring you for breakfast.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
His gaze flicked back to me, his brow furrowed. “You need to eat.”
“I’m fine, rea—”
“You aren’t,” he said, cutting me off without raising his voice. “I’ve thrown away enough food the last couple of days to feed a village. Your body’s gotta be running on fumes.”
First a joke, and now concern? This was an interesting turn of events from the asshole I’d met back at the hotel. He wasn’t wrong, though.
“Can I at least start with coffee?”
“I brewed a pot not too long ago. Should still be good.”
I walked to the cheap, black, plastic coffee maker.
In a kitchen anchored by a ten-burner professional range and dual built-in Sub-Zero refrigerators, it was wildly out of place.
Too ordinary to be accidental. Either it was an afterthought…
or a very specific choice made in open defiance of the rest of the décor.
I approved of the latter.
After a brief search in the cabinet above it, I found a plethora of—yep, beach-themed mugs. I decided on one with a sea turtle. It was the biggest, and I’d never needed caffeine more.
I turned to Devon, his phone holding his attention, and asked, “Any creamer?”
His eyes never lifted. “Fridge.”
“Any chance it’s French vanilla?”
“No.”
“Half and Half?”
He finally looked up, his expression flat. “Milk. Fat Free.”
I curled my lip. “Damn. I might as well use water.”
“In that case, try the faucet.” He took a loud bite out of what could only be described as a bagel-shaped piece of charcoal.
It was probably another joke, but as I retrieved the milk and stirred it into my coffee, I could barely think past the sound of him chewing gravel.
“You know, I’d be happy to make you another one. Same bagel, less arson.”
“Appreciate it. Though this one’s on me. I made a mistake, now I’m eating it. Lesson learned. Won’t forget tomorrow, that’s for sure. Besides, if you’re cooking, it should be for yourself.”
I lifted the mug in his direction. “Maybe later.” I tipped the coffee to my lips, ready for it to touch my soul and cure my problems, but it was so horrifically strong it was all I could do not to spit it out. “Jesus, did you make a mistake with the coffee too?”
“No. That one was deliberate. I need to be awake more than I need to be happy.” He dusted his finger over the plate and then picked up his phone again. “Now that you’re up, I need a list of anything you want or need. I’ll add creamer.”
“Actually, Brooke said she packed a bag for me. Any idea where it could be?”
“I put it in the closet. You were sleeping, and it was dark, so I didn’t want you tripping over it. It was pretty light, so you might want to go through it and see what else you need.”
My gaze dipped to his biceps. I didn’t figure much would be heavy for him.
I started to take another sip of the coffee before thinking better of it and set it on the counter instead. “Trust me, Brooke does a better job packing for me than I do for myself. She’s the best wife I could ever ask for.”
A questioning eyebrow shot up his forehead.
I waved him away. “Not like that. Unfortunately, we both prefer men. We like to consider ourselves platonic soulmates though.”
“Gotcha,” he said before taking another bite of his scorched breakfast.
Like a creeper, I stared at him as he chewed. Something about him tugged at my memory. Familiar in an irritating way. Like a song I couldn’t quite place. It was going to drive me absolutely bonkers until I figured it out. “Did you ever work for Samuel Thine?”
“No.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Becca Lorraine?”
“No,” he said, a hint of irritation in his tone.
I shook my head. “Sorry, there’s just something so familiar about you that I can’t quite put my finger on.”
His handsome face remained blank, but I still recognized the moment a wall slipped down between us. “You want an update on your place in Tennessee?”
It was a total distraction, but whatever. “Is it done? Can I go home yet?”
He stood and walked around the counter, tossing his bagel in the trash. I guessed that was only a half-lesson learned. “Apollo said your current security infrastructure is top-notch so things are moving quickly. Few more days and we should be able to get out of here.”
“Oh, thank God,” I breathed.
He chuckled.
I drew in a sharp gasp. “Wow. A joke, concern, and a laugh. Who are you?”
“Let’s just say we share the desire to get out of here.” He walked to the sink, turned on the water, and rinsed his plate. How very domesticated of him. Or maybe it was just normal male behavior. After three years with Sebastian, I didn’t trust myself to know anymore.
“Are you running from someone too?” I asked.
His chiseled jaw hardened as he turned to face me.
Gone was his casual demeanor. He rested his hip on the corner of the sink and pinned me with a dark glare.
“We didn’t get off on the right foot the other day.
And like that bagel, that’s on me. But let’s make something clear.
You want to see my resume, I’ll have Leo send over a copy.
Other than that, I’m here to work, not make friends.
The less questions you ask about me, the less I have to act like a dick when I shut you down. Do us both a favor, yeah?”
I clamped my mouth shut.
Marty never would have “shut me down” like that.
He wasn’t exactly an open book either, but he wasn’t a jackass.
He had tact and basic respect for others.
He would have made a snarky joke about me being just as nosy as Jenn, and then he would have asked if there was anything I wanted to do that day.
When I inevitably told him no, he would have suggested we take a walk to get some fresh air. If security were an issue, he would have hung curtains on the porch and forced me into a rocking chair as he sat beside me trying to convince me the beach wasn’t all that bad.
But Devon wasn’t Marty.
And he never would be.
My heart shattered all over again.
I drew in a shaky breath and tried to keep my emotions in check.
So what? Devon liked privacy. Just because that was no longer a privilege I was afforded, I could understand the appeal. Though if he wasn’t there to make friends, there was no reason for me to bother either.
“Sounds good.” I picked up my coffee cup, carried it to the sink, and leaned around his hulking body to pour it out. “I need a quad-shot blonde espresso over ice with sugar-free vanilla syrup and two stevia drops, but only if it’s the liquid kind. The packets taste like candles.”
He narrowed his eyes. We both knew specialty coffee wasn’t in his job description.
Hell, I was reasonably sure he’d only been bringing me meals to be able to do a welfare check every few hours.
But he asked what I needed, we weren’t friends, and I fucking missed Marty and wanted to cry.
So I added, “And an egg-white omelet. Spinach, feta, and mushrooms. No oil or butter. And a side of turkey bacon, extra crispy. If it bends, it’s going in the trash. ”
God, I hated myself.
But, as he glared at me, it did give me satisfaction to know he did too.
And with that, I turned on a toe, marched back to the bedroom, slammed the door, cut the lamp, and crawled back into bed.