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And when he turned off the stove, plated the food, and turned to face her, she watched how he visibly tensed. His eyes did a onceover of her body, and chills raced along her arms and legs at how that one look made her feel.
Scars cleared his throat and gave her a smile, but it seemed tight. He gestured to the table, and she glanced at it for the first time since stepping into the room. She’d been so transfixed at the sight of Scars that she hadn’t noticed the spread he cooked.
“Sit down. Eat,” Scars said in a gruff voice, one that was deeper than normal.
When she was seated, he put the plated bacon on the table then gave her an empty one. Before she could serve herself, Scars started filling up the white, circular ceramic dish.
Bacon, scrambled eggs, pancakes, and a couple of scoops of fresh fruit were now overflowing it. She looked down at it, then looked at him. He sat across from her, filling up his own plate, his portions double the size of what he’d given her. Then again, he was so much bigger than her that his daily calorie intake had to be insane.
He stopped midbite and looked up at her then glanced at her plate. “You’re not hungry?”
She licked her lips and nodded. “I am.”
He grunted in approval. “You need food.” He pointed his fork at her plate.
She couldn’t help but smile, not bothering to remind him that she couldn’t possibly eat all this.
He was thoughtful and wanted her to be taken care of, well fed. And once again, warmth spread through her at that thought.
“I’m going to work on your car a little bit today.” His voice was husky, and she noticed he didn’t go very long without looking at her. It was like he needed to see her at all times.
“I appreciate everything you've done for me. I can’t thank you enough, could never repay you.” She cleared her throat, her belly in knots. “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can. I know I’m an inconvenience.”
The low growl he made had her eyes widening fractionally.
“Let me tell you something,” he said and set his fork down, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table. “You’re not an inconvenience, Hannah.” Scars spoke low but gently. “I like having you here. A lot.” It was his turn to clear his throat.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I… like being here too.” And she did. God, she did. She liked being in Scars’ presence. He made her feel safe. He made her feel more than that.
He grunted as if that was settled then. After picking up his fork again, he gestured for her to start eating.
“I’m gonna try to work on your car. All day. The more I get done, the faster I can figure out all that needs to be fixed.” He focused on his plate and scooped up a big forkful. She watched as his forearm flexed from the simple act. A fresh wave of heat moved through her. “But I want you to know,” he said and looked at her, piercing her with a steely stare. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Even after your car is fixed… you don’t have to go.”
She was stunned by his words, shocked at how good they made her feel. “Why?” she whispered. “Why would you offer something like that to me?” She cleared her throat again.
He didn’t answer for long moments, just watched her, making her feel bare, exposed, as if he could see every single part of her. As if he knew her better than anyone else.
“Because I don’t want you to leave,” he said so clearly, so honestly, that she sucked in a breath.
Hannah’s cheeks felt hot, she couldn’t stop her smile, and she focused on her plate, picking up her fork and eating. A moment later, he continued to eat, but she could feel his eyes on her the whole time.
She hadn’t responded, even though she wanted to tell him that she didn’t want to leave either.12Scars had been working all day on her car, and Hannah felt guilty as she stayed inside and rested—his nicely put demand. She cleaned up after breakfast, had made some sandwiches for lunch, some fruit, made potato salad, which had been her mother’s recipe, and as she made it, a pang filled her chest. And when he kept telling her how good everything was, that it had been so long since someone had taken the time to cook solely for him, she felt pride and—again—that damn warmth.
She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, added some ice, then stepped outside to head to the garage. It wasn’t hot out, this light chill in the air with the promise of fall already here and the hint of winter on its heels. She heard the music before she even stepped out of the house, and the closer she got to where Scars worked, the louder it became.
