“Oomph.” The deep grunt sounded behind me as a strong arm came around to steady the bowls. “Sorry. I thought I’d give you a hand,” Brad growled in my ear, turning me by the waist so he could squeeze past.
“Tha—nks.”
I didn’t move, staring down at the bench until his hands slid away. Holy shit! The trail of fire he left behind was volcanic. The bowls clattered on the bench as my arms trembled. I fumbled, flapping my hands about trying to save them from tipping and rolling off onto the floor.
All the glances throughout dinner. All his attentiveness. Making sure I was comfortable and keeping the conversation on any other topic besides me. He was softening my hard shell, damn it. But, that move that he just pulled? Shit. I’m in so much trouble.
I heard the clink of ceramic bowls and steel spoons as he gathered and placed them on the bench next to me. I was too much of a coward to look over. Trying to remove the plastic wrap from the bowls with my hands shaking like it was twenty below, was a joke. I couldn’t even find the end.
Brad placed his hand on top of mine, searing my skin. My heart kicked up a storm and my nipples stood at attention. His breath feathered over my ear as his deep voice rumbled, “Let me help you.”
I slowly dragged my hands out from beneath his and sidestepped in retreat. “I—I’m just going to the bathroom for a sec.”
His pupils looked huge, shaded under heavy lids. So much desire; blatant for all to see. My body wanted to meld to his. I actually started to step forward, as if ready to climb aboard. My mind was screaming, “RUN.”
Spinning on my heel, I ducked into the bathroom and shut the door a little too forcefully. The petrified woman in the mirror begged me for help, with wild eyes and skin the palest I’d ever seen it. I didn’t really believe what Granny told me this afternoon. Despite the certainty I felt when I first met him, that he was meant to be mine, I discounted it. Surely you had to get to know someone really freakin’ well before you could decide, this was it.
Brad had been acting like he’d made his decision, and he wanted me. That scared me. I’d had people, alive and dead, harass me since I was a kid. I knew that wasn’t what he was doing, but his attention was intense. I’d just moved in, for Christ’s sake! We were not on a date. So why did it feel like one?
The door vibrated with Andrea’s soft knock. “Ronnie, are you okay in there?”
My dry throat hindered my attempt at a reply. I cleared my throat, and tried again. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I washed my hands to make it seem like I was in there for a legitimate reason. When I came out, everyone had already finished their dessert, and the table was already cleared. Crap. How long was I in there?
Brad looked at me with a sad smile as I sat down beside him. My bowl of fruit looked lonely on the table. The odd one out among a table full of empty ones. The oddball. The interloper.
“Are you feeling okay?” He placed his palm on my forearm, setting me off balance again.
I collected a breath. “Yeah. I guess the day has caught up with me. I’m really tired. Do you mind if I say goodnight?”
“No. Of course, that’s fine. I probably should have waited for you to settle in first before forcing my friends on you.”
“It was great meeting you both. Thanks for dinner, Brad. It was delicious.” Forcing a smile, I managed to raise my eyes as far as his throat before dropping them to his shirt. I couldn’t handle seeing his skin.
“No. Thank you. We’ll have to cook dinner together every night.” I heard the smile in his voice.
“Goodnight, Ronnie.” Ben and Andrea both waved.
“Um … goodnight.”
I put my bowl in the fridge after covering it. Hushed conversation breached the door; the low rumble of two baritones exchanging harried words. I didn’t look back. The exhaustion of the day had suddenly hit me. When I entered my room, I didn’t bother to undress, apart from slipping off my shoes. I fell onto the mattress, face first, not acknowledging the presence in the corner. She wasn’t the last person I wanted to speak to right now, but she was pretty high on the list.
Brad
“Back off, man. You’re a little too intense,” Ben chastised, mock punching my shoulder.
“She looked a bit scared when she came out of the bathroom.” Andrea eyed me over the rim of her wine glass, eyebrows raised.
“I know I’m about ten steps ahead of her. I can’t stop myself.”
“You’re about fifty steps ahead of her, I think, mate.”
Andrea put her glass down and slid an arm around the back of Ben’s chair. Their PDA’s were not helping my state of yearning and frustration.
“While that’s true, our Lee wasn’t the only one making googly eyes. Give her time. Let her get to know you first. Breathe, Lee. Breathe.” Andrea patted me on the hand in sympathy.
I huffed, attempting to expel some pent-up energy. It didn’t work. The only way I was going to cool down was if I went for a run or a ride. For a second and third option, they weren’t bad choices. I’d rather expend it in a much more satisfying and entertaining way, but we all knew there was
