Chapter 6 #2
My eyes travel down to his chest and flat stomach, remembering what is hiding beneath his shirt. “I can imagine it takes a lot of work to look that good.”
Placing his glass back on the table, he sits back in his chair with an amused expression. I grimace, realizing I spoke my thoughts out loud. “I mean, you’re so fit, you look—” I drop my gaze back to my plate, unable to finish that sentence.
Thankfully, Aaden is a gentleman and lets me off the hook. “I prefer to cook. It kind of relaxes me, and it’s better for you, healthier.”
I take a bite of my toast. “I agree. I’ve always loved cooking.
My dad always made sure I joined him on Sundays to learn.
” I smile at the memory. “My mother wasn’t much of a cook.
I guess my dad thought I better learn so that my future husband wasn’t stuck doing it all like he was.
” I lift my gaze to find Aaden watching me, his eyes holding curiosity as well as a hint of amusement.
“I never thought of it as a chore; I enjoy it way too much.”
He cocks his head as he studies me. “Same.”
I give him a shy smile before going back to my breakfast. We finish with light conversation, and I’m pleasantly surprised by how much we actually have in common—not only our love of cooking and, obviously, our jobs, but we both like hiking and watching crime shows.
After half an hour of conversation, we clear our dishes and head back inside.
Aaden starts rinsing his plate before I even manage to get to the sink.
“Hey, you cooked, so I clean,” I argue.
He winks as he takes my plate and rinses it.
Defeated but not disappointed, I put the eggs and butter away.
I grab a dirty glass that had been left on the counter and turn, slamming into a hard, solid wall of muscle.
He catches me by my shoulders, but the glass I was holding drops to the floor and shatters.
“Crap, sorry.”
“Don’t!” he commands as I move.
I gasp as his hands wrap around my waist, picking me up and setting me on the counter. “You’re barefoot. Let me sweep it up.”
I glance down at his feet. “So are you.”
“Where’s the broom?”
I point to the closet in the corner and watch as he cautiously walks over and retrieves it.
He sweeps the entire kitchen floor, making sure to get any pieces that might have scattered away.
I can’t help but wonder why someone like him is taking care of me.
Is it out of pity? Is he simply being polite?
As he dumps the last of the glass into the trash can, my curiosity gets the better of me.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I can tell my question catches him off guard.
He looks at me, my feet still dangling as I sit on the counter with my hands squeezed together in my lap.
His brows draw together as he leans the broom against the counter.
He looks like he’s trying to figure out what to say, and that makes me wonder if it really is pity because he appears to be carefully choosing his words so he doesn’t hurt my feelings by giving me the wrong impression.
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you get hurt?”
I don’t know why, but I feel disappointed. That is until he crosses the room and stands right in front of me. The space between us crackles and sparks. Jesus, get a grip, Leah. He’s your boss, and he’s only being kind.
No sooner than the thought finishes, his hands grip my waist again, and I suck in a deep breath.
I instinctively grip his shoulders, and for a brief moment, we stare at one another.
His eyes drop to my lips, and my heart flutters at the thought of kissing him.
But instead, he lifts me from the counter and places me back on my feet.
His hands squeeze my waist briefly before he lets go and takes a step back, clearing his throat.
I feel like an idiot for my inappropriate thoughts.
I run my hands down my thighs and force myself to speak, “Thank you. For everything. Last night and this morning. You really didn’t need to do all of this.”
He takes a few more steps back, giving me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he stuffs his hands into his pockets. “It was no problem.”
I offer a weak one in return, then duck my head and walk past him.
He follows, stopping at the couch to put his socks and shoes on.
I watch him, feeling awkward and not sure what else to say.
Am I crazy? Am I the only one who thought we had a connection last night at dinner or even a few minutes ago in the kitchen?
Of course, you are, Leah. He’s way out of your league.
Besides, whatever I think I may have felt, I shouldn’t be focusing on him or any man for that matter.
Thoughts of my dates with Tyler and Chase flood my mind, and I feel the guilt like a blow to my chest. I should have never agreed to go out with either of them.
One, they are his friends, and two, I’m not here to hook up.
I’m here to take care of my mother. Period!
Aaden stands and looks at me. I cross my arms over my chest and offer another forced smile. “Call me later to let me know how your mother is,” he says.
I nod. “Of course.” I follow him as he moves to the front door.
I reach around him and open it, holding it as he steps outside.
He turns, and our eyes lock once again. That same pull I felt earlier grabs ahold and wraps around me.
I grip the door handle as we gaze at each other for what seems like forever.
His hand comes up, and my heart races in anticipation of his touch, but he stops, his fingers curling into a fist before he drops his arm back to his side with a sigh.
“See you next week.”
I swallow and bob my head. “Yeah, and thanks again for the time off.”
This time, his smile is genuine. Then he leaves and walks to his car.