Chapter 6 #2
A stranger you let into your home.
Well, I never claimed I had a good sense of self-preservation. But Saint doesn’t scare me. I get the impression he’d rather capture a spider and set it loose outside than kill it.
“I don’t mind,” I rush to say, spooning some soup into my mouth.
“Holy shit,” I mumble. The carrots are soft but not mushy, the broth rich and savory.
The noodles, perfectly tender and full of flavor, are the star of the show.
They’re not your standard egg noodles, but I can’t put my finger on what’s different.
“Rubes wanted to try making butternut squash noodles. What do you think? Too much?”
I shake my head adamantly. “Not at all. It’s different but in a good way. It subtly adds to the flavor. It’s perfect for winter.” I take another bite, letting the flavors mingle on my tongue. I’ll definitely be craving this all winter.
“I’ll make sure to pass your praise along. She’ll be happy to know her experiment succeeded.”
We stand at the small counter and finish our soup in silence, the clink of our spoons against the bowls the only sound.
It’s not uncomfortable with Saint, and it throws me even more off balance.
With every spoonful, the tension seems to ramp up higher.
Every once in a while, I’ll look up from my bowl to study Saint, only to find he’s already looking at me with a glimmer in his eyes.
Every time, I expect him to break eye contact first, but it’s always me who looks away, blushing from the intensity of his stare.
When he finished, he washes his bowl and spoon, dries them, and places them back where they belong. Then, he takes mine and does the same. I… don’t know what to do in this situation. It’s a foreign concept to have someone else doing my dishes.
“Thank you for washing those. You didn’t have to,” I finally say, fiddling with the frayed string on my jeans.
“It’s no trouble. Thank you for inviting me up.” He dries his hands on my floral dish towel. It looks tiny in his massive hands. “I should start heading back before the rain makes it even harder to see.” He cuts off his sentence abruptly, like he wants to add more but stops himself.
I don’t want him to leave.
I want to ask him to stay, but I don’t know how, and I don’t want him to have to change his plans. It would be too much to ask him to spend the night—not that we’d both fit on my full-size bed. I can’t ask him to fuck me before sending him packing. That would be rude.
“Look into that door lock, okay? I need you safe, Mikey,” he rasps, amping up my desire for him.
I bite back the plea for him to stay. “I will, promise.”
“Good. I guess… I’ll see you around.” Then, he’s gone, walking out my front door. I stand there, letting his absence wash over me. I shouldn’t miss him already. I shouldn’t want to—
A knock startles me, and I rush over, cracking it open to find a scowling Saint on the other side, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and displeasure painted all over his face. “You should have locked the door as soon as I walked out.”
“How do you know I didn’t?” I’m surprised at how normal I sound when I’m internally swooning.
“I didn’t hear the lock engage, and you didn’t have to unlock it to open it. Speaking of, you shouldn’t have opened the door without asking who’s on the other side. What if I was a serial killer?”
“You think a serial killer would knock and announce themself?” I can’t hold back my amused smile.
His scowl deepens, making him look so different.
I give him a half-assed salute. “Yes, sir.”
His jaw tightens further. “I’m not leaving until I hear the lock.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Goodnight, Saint. Thank you for the soup. Drive safely.” Without waiting for his response, I close the door and slowly turn the lock until it clicks. “Satisfied?” I call through the door.
“For now,” he rumbles. “Goodnight, Mikey. Sweet dreams.”
I press my ear against the door, waiting for him to walk away. Maybe he’s standing there to make sure I keep the door locked, or maybe he feels the magnetic pull between us, too. After a minute, I hear his footsteps retreat down the hall.
Shoulders slumping, I pull my phone from my pocket and find a barrage of texts from Kelly.
KELLY: PLEASE tell me you and Saint spent longer than five minutes together.
KELLY: You didn’t do a very good job describing how HOT he is, damn. If only I were twenty years younger…
KELLY: I’m going to take your silence as a good sign and pray it’s not because you got murdered. Call me when you can!
I click on her name, and she answers immediately. “At least I know you’re not dead. Now, tell me what happened.”
I tell her about our impromptu dinner. It’s not a fantastic, enthralling story, but Kelly eats it up like it’s the latest TV drama. When I tell her he was concerned about my lack of a lock, she sides with him and swoons.
“And did you ask for his number? Or did he ask for yours?” she asks.
“No.”
“Come on! Why?! It’s clear you’re attracted to him. More than attracted. You invited him to your apartment.”
“To eat soup. Not exactly the best aphrodisiac.”
“The way he was looking at you, I think you could eat an entire plate of Texas barbecue and have sauce smeared all across your face, and he’d still want to jump your bones.”
“Kelly.”
“I’m just saying! That man lit up when he saw you across the bar. His eyes never left you when you were talking. I know a down-bad man when I see one, Mikey, and Saint wants you.”
“Then why hasn’t he asked me out or for my number?”
“Maybe he’s shy. Or nervous.”
I snort. A man of his size, of his attractiveness, has no reason to be shy. “Doubtful. I think he’s just nice.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo. Go watch your movie, my assistant just handed me test results, and I’ve got to go break the news to my patient that her mystery pain is labor.”
“She didn’t know she was pregnant?”
“Nope.”
“Ah. Well, that’s scary as shit. Have fun.”
“Always wrap it before you tap it. Love you big, Mikey.”
“Love you, too.”
I spend the rest of the night watching my dad’s favorite movie, but my mind isn’t focused on the screen. It’s running away with a thousand thoughts about hazel eyes.
When I finally go to sleep, I dream of a bearded man who smells like cinnamon and vanilla breaking down my door and ravishing me.