Not even the box of bagels that I should’ve probably thrown away two days ago.
His eyes went to the cat food that I had on the counter, and his eyes narrowed.
“You have a cat?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
He looked once again at the food. “Then why do you have cat food?”
I grinned at him and opened my back door, showing off the empty food bowl.
“Watch,” I ordered.
So he watched as I picked up the bag of cat food, walked to the back door, and bent down.
“Oh, pick up your dog?” I suggested.
He did just that, only grimacing slightly when he stood up.
I immediately felt bad but went ahead and filled the food bowl up.
Then I waited.
It didn’t take long.
Waddling out of the trees came my Francis.
“This,” I cooed as he came. “Is Francis.”
Croft stayed silent for long seconds as Francis came right up to me and started to eat out of the food bowl.
Francis didn’t take long to eat. He was a fast, fat boy.
And when he was done, he waddled right back into the woods behind my house.
Grinning, I stood up and turned around, only to find Croft standing right next to me.
“Oh,” I cried, jerking back so I didn’t accidentally run into him and hurt him.
“You have a pet raccoon,” he mused.
“I do,” I confirmed. “Kind of. I found him one night on the side of the road. I thought he was dead, honestly. When I went to check my mail, he lifted his little head off the road and looked at me with these sad little eyes. I helped him onto the grass, then brought food and water to him in case. The next morning, he wasn’t by the road anymore, but on my porch. Then the next day, he was at my back porch. Ever since, he’s just been hanging out.”
“Wow,” he shook his head as he looked over my shoulder at where Francis had disappeared. “Just wow.”
I snickered and pressed my hand against his abs so I could close the door.
The moment my skin came in contact with his, my heart started beating double-time.
When he moved, he handed me the dog, and I put her on the floor for him.
When I stood back up, it was to once again find him supremely close to me and crowding my space.
I didn’t push away, even though I started to feel trapped.
“I don’t know anybody that has a pet raccoon.”
I snickered and pressed my hand lightly against his shoulder, right under his wound.
Still cool to the touch.
“Me neither,” I admitted. “What do you want for breakfast?”
He reluctantly stepped back, and my hand dropped from his shoulder.
“What do you have?” he wondered.
Once again he stepped back, and I felt like I was missing half of my soul when he did.
Damn, but the man made my heart warm.
As well as other things…
“Umm,” I said as I slipped past him, my backside brushing his leg. “I think that I have every flavor of Pop-Tart imaginable. I also have cereal, powdered donuts in those little to-go bags, and some oatmeal.”
His eyes were blinking wide at me as he looked at me with surprise.
“For a girl who owns a gym, I would’ve thought that you’d eat better,” he joked.
I winked. “You don’t know me all that well, Croft Crusie.”
• • •
After my shower, I debated for a good fifteen minutes on what to put on.
I finally decided on a tank top, short blue jean shorts, and a pair of Birkenstocks.
Once I was fully dressed, I went to the bathroom and dried my hair, curled it, then added some mascara and eye shadow.
After that was done, I looked at myself in the mirror and decided that I was definitely looking like I was trying too hard.
So on the way out, I grabbed a ball cap and yanked it on my head before heading to the kitchen to find him.
He was polishing off a bag of powdered donuts and drinking a gigantic glass of milk.
I only used that cup when I was watering about eight plants throughout the house and I didn’t want to have to come back and refill it.
“Good?” I asked him.
He winked, not bothering to answer seeing as he was busy stuffing his face.
“You have powdered sugar in your beard,” I teased. “Are you going to shave today?”
Croft always shaved. Like, always.
I’d never seen him unshaven. So, to see him with not only a five o’clock shadow, but a couple of days’ worth of growth on his face, it was definitely surprising.
And hot.
I’d never thought that scruff was sexy, but on Croft, it definitely was.
Holy hell.
“Nope,” he grumbled. “I trust you, but not enough to shave me, and since I’m left-handed,” he held up his left hand, which happened to be the arm that he got shot in. “I’ll be waiting for a while to do it.”
“You’re left-handed?” I asked in surprise.
He nodded once.
“But you bat right-handed,” I found myself saying.
Flint, Ezra and Croft had joined a men’s softball league last year, and the few times that I’d gone to see him, he’d definitely batted right-handed. I would’ve noticed another lefty.
“I’m ambidextrous,” he answered. “Switch hitter. I used to really fuck with some people in high school when I played baseball.”
“I’ll bet,” I said. “Those were always my least favorite to pitch against.”
“Pitch?” he asked, intrigued.
“Yep,” I pointed to myself. “State champion fast-pitch my senior year.”
His face was beautiful when he said, “I like that.”
I like that.
Three words that had the power to undo me.
I licked my lips and went to the pantry, pulling out a Pop-Tart.
“What kind?” he asked curiously.
I sneered at him. “The only kind that there should be.”
His eyes lifted in surprise. “You’re a snob?”
“I’m a Pop-Tart snob, yes,” I agreed. “And chocolate fudge all the way. The rest are all shit.”
He laughed then.
“I guess that since you chose one, it’s a good thing that you like the one that I love
