As he sat there, memories surely playing through his mind, sadness overshadowed the longing, and something inside Julia cracked. Poor baby. How much had he lost? Not just his home and his transportation, but his family and his friends. The only world he’d probably ever known.
At the house, she urged him to sit at the kitchen counter as she slapped together a couple turkey sandwiches. Tristan ate the first batch…plus five more.
So far the guy had cost her three hundred and forty-eight dollars in food and supplies, plus the loss of her sanity. A good bargain? Earlier she would have said absolutely not. Now, the jury was still deliberating.
“Best we go to the mall after all,” he said, putting his plate in the sink. “I do not like these clothes you have provided me with. These—” he motioned to the sweat pants with a wave of his hand “—leave me suspended.”
The thought of battling crowds while Tristan “protected” her from salesclerks swept away every ounce of relaxation she’d managed to gain. “How about we—” She paused, the last part of Tristan’s speech registering. “Uh, Tristan, you are wearing the underwear I gave you, right?”
He canted his chin to the side, his eyes changing from green to blue to purple, each color crackling with confusion. “You speak of the small scrap of cloth I found in the bag?”
“Yes!” How to explain, how to explain? “It’s keeps your—” she pointed to his crotch “—you know from flapping around.”
“Ah.” He shook his head. “A strange garment, that, and one I did not make use of the way you described. Instead, I tore strips of cloth from this underwear and used them to secure my new blade to my thigh.”
Which meant he had spent the entire day with only a pair of sweat pants between Julia and his…assets.
Oh, my. “So you didn’t like the briefs, but what about the boxers?” When he gave her another confused frown, she explained the difference.
“I do not recall seeing these briefs. Only boxers.”
Wonderful. She’d either left them in the cart or her sedan’s trunk. “I’ll see if I can find you a pair. That way, you won’t feel quite so…suspended.” And was she really sitting here, peacefully discussing a man’s underwear?
I’ve made progress already and my lessons haven’t even begun!
Grinning, she grabbed her coat and practically skipped outside. But when she stepped off the porch, she made the mistake of looking past her shrubs. Her blood flash-froze, and so did the rest of her. There, trimming the hedges that surrounded his house, stood Peter, her next-door neighbor. Her love interest.
Julia’s happy-go-lucky mood vanished in an instant, her tongue thickening like a block of concrete. She didn’t want to face him until she’d completed her lessons—or even started them, for that matter.
More panicked by the second, she scrambled for a hiding place and ended up kneeling behind one of her bushes, not twenty feet away from him.
Several prolonged minutes ticked by as she continued to watch him. If she were a dragon, she would march over there and flirt. Yes, yes. I can do this.
She took a step. Or tried to take a step. She went nowhere fast, already imagining the spectacle she would make. It’s official. I’m a coward.
If she could get his attention someway… No, if she did something like jump up and announce her presence, Peter might think she was foolish. She really, really wanted him to believe she was wonderful.
Only one solution popped into her mind. I have to wait him out.
Her study of him intensified. In his late twenties, early thirties, Peter had a full head of brown hair, tanned skin, and a lean body. He always wore a smile, as if forever pleased with the world around him.
He was reserved and didn’t always know what to say, so he would sympathize with her predicament. And he wasn’t so beautiful women would flock to him, trying to steal his affections. He was perfect for Julia. The kind of guy her mother told her she could win.
And yet, Julia didn’t feel drawn to him and definitely didn’t crave his kiss. She didn’t dream of him when she closed her eyes. Not at night and not during the day. She didn’t imagine getting naked with him. Instead, Tristan still occupied her thoughts. She liked the way he moved, sensuous yet sometimes predatory, and the way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he teased her. While his muscles bulged with strength and he’d had plenty of opportunity, he’d never actually hurt her. He’d always been careful of her smaller size.
As soon as she realized she was comparing the two men, shame washed over her. Throughout her entire childhood, she’d been compared to her sister, and oh, it had hurt.
Faith plays the piano so beautifully. Why can’t you, Julia?
Faith won first place at the track meet. Better luck next time, Julia.
All of the boys adore Faith. If you’d just try a little harder, Julia.
So Tristan resembled a legendary warrior king, and Peter didn’t. So what. Big deal. No matter a person’s temperament, hopes and dreams, they would age. Their beauty would fade. And really, a pretty face and perfect body only guaranteed one thing: you were temporarily nice to gaze upon.
She knew that. So why did her palms sweat and her heart pound whenever Tristan entered a room? Why did she feel unaffected by Peter, a man who seemed made specifically for her?
Julia didn’t have the answers, and it didn’t matter. It didn’t! Once she spent time with her neighbor, romantic feelings might come. And if not, there were other men out there. Men just like him. Someone would make her crave kisses and caresses with the same fervency as Tristan.
A cool breeze drifted by, calming the sudden fire in her blood. Kissing and caressing Tristan…
Julia swallowed a screech of frustration. Surely Peter possessed some quality that overshadowed her pleasure slave. Hoping for a better view, she pushed several branches out of
