Malco scoffed. What was he doing thinking about love when the most important thing right now was to keep her safe and stop this impending gang war he sensed was coming? That was his mission, not love. He vowed not to make the same mistakes he’d made last time something this important was put on him. The ache in his leg reminded him to keep focus no matter what.
Chapter Six
It was her growling stomach that woke Frida. The enticing smell of food was a great motivator, but when she tried to push the cover aside, the aches gripping every single muscle of her body made her regret moving. With the pain, all that had happened the day before came back into focus, justifying why each move cost her a moan. Wiggling her toes to test for pain, she realized her feet still hurt, and she was apprehensive about putting her weight on them.
Her eyeballs were the only part of her not registering pain, so she looked at her surroundings. The light made its way through an open sliver in the curtains, illuminating a beautiful room. Pale blue and green colored the walls, the lines slick and elegant, but simple and fresh. A lot of thought had gone into the design, and her brain clicked. She was at Malco’s house. That realization made her move and sit, ignoring the pull in her body. Was she in his room?
The lack of personal male items made her think it was probably a guest room. But was she reassured or disappointed? She couldn’t remember walking in there, and as she was still dressed in yesterday’s outfit, it was clear Malco has carried her inside and remained a gentleman. Her thoughts were taking a dangerous turn, imagining how she would’ve reacted if he hadn’t, when a deep, melodious voice came from beyond the closed door. An old Spanish song she’d heard years before.
It touched her somehow, a reminder of a simpler time, and was a glimpse into the life of a man she guessed was very private.
Her insistent stomach pulled her from her reverie and forced her to test her feet so she could make a much-needed stop at the bathroom.
Refreshed, hair brushed, and glad the soles of her feet didn’t burn as much as the day before, she pushed her shoulders back and opened the bedroom door to wobble toward the voice in the kitchen.
Malco had his back to her, busy at the stove, his kitchen vast, bright, and inviting. Her eyes slid over the wide, muscled back of the man busy cooking and singing, and lingered on the mussed dark hair she was curious to touch.
He turned, a pan in hand, his dark eyes on her. Breath seized in her lungs when his eyes scanned her body, and the corner of his delightful mouth quirked up. “Just in time. Breakfast is served if you’re hungry.”
Frida nodded and forced herself to smile. “Yeah, and I’m desperate for coffee.”
Now there was a blazing smile from him. “I have no doubt. Take a seat, and I’ll serve you.”
Frida couldn’t help but smile too and resumed limping toward the kitchen table, hoping her body loosened up and her feet improved, especially when she had to put a pair of shoes on soon.
As she headed for the table by the window, she heard the clatter behind her of plates being put down, and before she could react, a pair of strong arms swept her up.
“Hey!” Her reaction must have sounded outraged, but when Malco’s scent enveloped her, and his warmth seeped through her skin, everything in her relaxed.
Too soon, he gently deposited her on a chair.
“You know I can walk, don’t you?”
“You’re capable of anything, but you’re clearly in pain, and you can’t fault me for helping.”
She couldn’t deny what she was feeling, even if her pride had taken a hit. Malco came back with a steaming cup of coffee, then went and fetched a glass of water and two pills. “I thought you could use some painkillers. Between the running and your feet, you must be in pain.”
Wise man. “My savior, once more.” She took the pills and downed them and could’ve sworn she heard him chuckle.
Frida took a sip of the coffee and groaned at the delicious brew, her foggy brain awakening.
“I have milk and sugar if you want.”
“Are you insane? Why sully this cup of heaven?”
Malco came back with two plates heaped with food that made her mouth water, almost as much as the man himself.
“I didn’t know what you liked, so there’s a little bit of everything.”
Frida looked up as he sat down in front of her. “I barely have time to eat, let alone cook. So, for you to cook something so amazing, I’m almost tempted to fall on my knees and praise God.”
Mirth made his eyes twinkle. “That’s an interesting image, Miss Montalvo. But I guess it’s better we eat while it’s still hot.”
Was he teasing her? Ignoring the blush creeping up her neck, Frida instead focused on the food. Not only was it filling, but it was incredible. Malco seemed to eat with gusto, but locked eyes with hers often over their plates.
The mountain of food eventually got the better of her, but Malco easily finished his. Without a word, she pushed what was left in his direction. “I have a feeling you’re still hungry.”
The look he gave her had her shivering with anticipation. Frida had a feeling she knew what he was hungry for and it wasn’t food, but her. She’d never felt that kind of attraction before, and it destabilized her. She was the kind of woman who always took charge, who knew where she was going, but for the first
