“Quit staring at my ass,” she said jokingly, and I vaguely recalled having said something along the same lines to her when we’d been having our fight.
I laughed, hearing her joining in before she started taking glass bottles containing herbs and spices off the shelf she’d been inspecting. Her ass was at a comfortable level for my eyes, but my gaze snagged on the ratty, soft gray material that hung just at the waistband of her jeans.
“What shirt are you wearing, by the way?”
Sofia looked down as if she had to double-check. “This old thing? It’s my go-to outfit when I’m going to be busy around the house all day.”
“Usually when people say ‘this old thing,’ they mean it sarcastically. You know that, right?”
“Yep, but I mean it for real. It’s old. I’m also not sure it’s a shirt anymore, therefore ‘thing’ seems like an appropriate term. I think it might be more like a rag with holes in the right places now.”
“Holes in the right places?” I choked on the sip of water I’d just taken, laughing as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.
“You know what I mean.” She sighed, but her eyes glittered with her own repressed laughter. “To be fair, that did come out sounding wrong.”
I smirked at her. “You sure? I think it might have been a Freudian slip.”
“It wasn’t.” She narrowed her eyes but then laughed as she shook her head and went back to the bottles she’d collected. “I think this will be a good start. Pots and pans?”
“In here.” I pulled open a heavy drawer beside the stove. “Want any help? I can run to the store if you need something too?”
“Nah, let’s make do with what we have. It’s like a challenge in a cooking show. I’ve always wanted to take part in something like that. This is my chance.”
“How are you always finding a silver lining in everything?” I felt my brow furrow. “Seriously, did you take a class in optimism?”
“Nope. I’ve just always been an eternal optimist. I have to be. Otherwise, I would have broken down every time my daddy walked out the door in the mornings. Looking on the bright side and choosing optimism was a coping mechanism. Now it’s just who I am.”
“You’re also a realist, though,” I commented. “I know you well enough to know that.”
She shrugged. “People don’t have to fit into neat little boxes. I’m an optimist and a realist all rolled into one. Still want to know what else I noticed out there?”
“Sure.” The woman was an enigma, but I liked that about her.
“Mismatched couches, one medium-sized TV, a small coffee table, and a four-person dining table with chairs around it. Nothing else. Well, nothing except the photos on the walls. None of you have ever thought to add a rug or anything like that?”
“Not really.” It wasn’t a bad idea, though. Maybe I’d get Billy and Hank one as a welcome-home gift. “Like I said, we don’t spend much time here. Even when we’re here, we’re not often here, you know?”
“Yeah, I can imagine.”
We lapsed into silence while she worked, defrosting the chicken and making some kind of marinade out of ingredients she salvaged after another round of scavenging.
Sofia seemed pretty excited by the time just about every part of the counter was covered in odds and ends. Humming to herself as she cooked, I was content just watching and keeping her company.
This was new for me. I’d never had someone care enough about me to come check up on me, and I hadn’t had anyone cook me a meal in what felt like forever.
The chicken pasta dish she magicked up turned out to be delicious. We didn’t even bother going to sit at the table to eat. Both of us leaned with our hips against a counter and a bowl in our hands, talking while we ate and then washed up.
“You said something about a movie earlier,” Sofia said as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth. Everything she’d used was clean and stacked in the drying rack, and all that remained of her meal was a hint of spice in the air.
“It was on cable. It’ll be long over by now, but I’m sure we could find something else if you’re interested?”
“Definitely.” She hung the dishcloth neatly, gave an almost imperceptible nod as she gave the kitchen a last sweeping glance, then smiled up at me. “Let’s go see what’s on.”
We settled on the couch facing the TV, but before I reached for the remote, I turned to face her. As they had that night on the beach, my hands reached for her before I could stop them.
Surprise crossed her expression when I touched my fingertips to her cheeks, but she kept her eyes on mine and patiently waited for what I knew I needed to say.
“Thank you for coming here today,” I said. “Thank you for not letting me put down the phone when I told you I couldn’t talk, and thank you for cooking dinner.”
Her lips tilted up but not into a full smile. She wound her arms around my neck and brought our heads closer together until the tips of our noses touched. “You’re welcome, Linc. Thanks for letting me be here for you.”
Somehow, she knew that this wasn’t something I’d done before. She understood what it had taken to let her in, given the storm brewing over my life, and she was still here.
Gratitude swelled in my chest. If I’d been alone today, God only knew what I would have ended up doing. She had made sure that I wasn’t.
An overwhelming urge to kiss her came over me, and I didn’t bother trying to suppress it. I needed her, and not just because fucking her would be a damn good distraction.
Chapter 22
Sofia
Lincoln’s lips touched mine softly, a caress more than the usual clashing of both of our desires as soon as
