“You won’t let me touch,” she huffed. “The least you can do is let me look.”
“Suit yourself.” I kept my smug grin hidden as I pulled my shirt over my head. “Behold!”
“You slept in a bra?” Disgust twisted her upper lip. “Why would you torture yourself like that?”
“The same reason I slept with shorts on.” I flashed her my pajama bottoms with a twitch of my hips. I always slept dressed when Cass stayed over. “What do you think?”
“Are those…?” Her gaze shot to mine. “Heads of cartoon garlic?”
“I wanted to buy the matching bra, but it made me look like I have cloves for nipples.”
With a grumble and a huff, she stormed out of my bedroom and left me alone to tug on way too much leather for this time of year. After shoving my boots, stakes, and various other equipment into a gym bag from high school, I pulled on baggy sweats and an oversized sweatshirt over my work attire.
Bag on my shoulder, I slid on running shoes and headed downstairs.
“There she is.” Boaz sat at the table with an empty plate—and a cellphone—in front of him. “I made enough for two. Your half is in the microwave.”
The smile I flashed him was reflexive and a tad sentimental. I couldn’t remember the last time someone cooked for me. “Thanks.”
“Say that again after you see what I made.”
“Oh.” I removed the paper towel, and I was grateful the door shielded my expression from him. “You made waffles.”
The kind I used to buy on sale for Hadley when we were teens. Cheap, quick, and studded with blueberries. At least I think they were blueberries. They might have been those blueish pellet things.
“I can’t cook, but I do okay with a toaster oven.” He rose, stuck his plate in the dishwasher, then came to stand close enough I could smell a hint of his cologne. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I picked up my usual on my way back last night. Make a list, and I’m happy to shop for us.”
The offer tread too close to charity for my taste, but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. After all, the fact he wanted to take care of me, and my family, was the reason I had agreed to his proposal.
“You don’t have to eat it.” He leaned around the microwave door. “You won’t hurt my feelings if you’d rather have yogurt or oatmeal.”
“Do I look like a health nut to you?” I took the plate, smeared pats of butter he had softened to room temperature between the layers, then dumped the artificially flavored syrup he had also bought over the top. “I haven’t eaten these in forever. They were my sister’s favorite. She could live off them for weeks.”
The meal that had been appetizing a second earlier kicked up nostalgia that left my vision blurry.
“Hey.” He took the plate from me and set it on the counter. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It hits me at the weirdest times.” I glanced up, blinked my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He slowly brought me in for a hug, giving me time to opt out, but I needed one. “I get it.” He rested his chin on top of my head. “Grief is like a marathon, except there’s no finish line.”
Endless.
Yep.
That was how this felt.
“I like that.” I liked this too. More than I should. Forming an emotional attachment was just asking for trouble. He couldn’t hurt me unless I gave him that power over me. But his arms were strong, his chest was wide, and he smelled amazing. A minute or two longer wouldn’t hurt. “Speaking from personal experience?”
“I lost someone. Years ago.” The muscles on either side of his spine clenched under my hands. “I wasn’t much good to anyone for a long time after that.” He laughed at himself. “I’m not much good period.”
Here we go.
Peeling away our layers. Showing each other what was underneath. Giving the other person a chance to run screaming before it was too late.
I showed him mine, with Hadley, and now he was showing me his. It made me wonder who he had lost.
“I didn’t mean to poke at a sore spot.” I withdrew with a sigh for the waffles I could no longer stomach. “I should probably let you get ready for work.” I jingled the bag still on my shoulder. “I’m going to the gym with a friend.”
The noise caught his attention, and he stared at the bag, and then at me, until sweat rolled down my spine. Shaking it had been a mistake.
“Got room for one more?” He patted his stomach. “I could stand to burn a few calories.”
Crap. Crap. Crap.
“It’s a women’s fitness center,” I lied like a rug. “I needed a place open twenty-four hours, and it was closest. Plus, fewer overnight creepers.”
“Gotcha.” He kept an eye on the bag. “I might start running through your neighborhood if you don’t mind.”
The statement held the weight of a question. Almost an accusation.
Breathe, Addie. He’s not suspicious. You’re being paranoid.
“Why would I mind?” I shoved the bag behind my back, grimacing when it clanked against the counter. “There’s even a bike trail you could use.”
“Your neighbors will see me coming and going.” A shrug twitched his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted that yet.”
See? He was being considerate. That was sweet. Definitely not suspicious.
“They’ll figure it out sooner or later.” I noticed his phone on the table and bit my lip to avoid asking about Grier to deflect his interest in my bag. Until we exchanged vows, his business was his business. I could hardly demand full disclosure from him without doing the same. “Might as well give them something juicy to talk about.”
I regretted the flippant remark the second it passed my lips. I never would have made it had I not been distracted, and, okay, panicked. My family had given the neighbors plenty to talk about over the years. Hadley’s sickness. Our poverty.
