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Back in the room, I grabbed my charger and a simple white t-shirt from my suitcase. I left my cell to charge, pulling the shirt over my tank. It was see-through, but thick enough to conceal my nipples.
I found Alaric exactly where he said he’d be, in the kitchen. He was leaning over the island, a cup of coffee in front of him, immersed in the screen of his cellphone.
“Help yourself,” he said, sparing me a quick glance. “I left a mug out for you.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, wandering over to his coffee machine, which looked like some next level device. There were buttons, knobs, and two separate compartments. This all seemed extra to me.
Coffee was coffee.
I lifted the pot and poured the steaming liquid into the white mug he’d taken out, examining the logo that was on both the front and back of it.
“Dream Garden?” I read aloud, taking notice of the stethoscope that curved around the last two letters. Why did something about this sound familiar?
“The name of my family’s practice.”
I replaced the pot in its chamber, then twisted to look at him. “Practice?”
He regarded me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Your sister didn’t tell you much about me, did she?” With a slow shake of his head, he lifted his coffee and took a sip. “My family owns a chain of private clinics. You may have read about it online; we’ve been growing rapidly. It’s also where I work.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“Surgeon,” he corrected.
I was a tad surprised, but not sure why. This made a ridiculous amount of sense. My sperm donor had made all his money investing and backing the medical field. I wondered how close Alaric was to him, how well they knew one another. After all, he was his son-in-law. I was tempted to ask but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“You must be some surgeon.” I gestured in a circular motion, indicating his house.
“I’m pretty skilled with my hands.”
His words could be misconstrued as a double entendre. My lips parted slightly and a flush spread from my cheeks to my neck. I turned away and reached for the sugar, feeling his stare burning into the back of my head.
“It’s also why I don’t wear a wedding ring.”
“Huh?” I asked, partially distracted by the mouth-watering aroma wafting from the steaming liquid I was stirring.
“Last night, I saw the way you kept looking at me.”
Jesus. Everything he said sounded like pure sex. I couldn’t decipher if it was intentional on his end or my lust-filled brain perceiving it this way.
I tucked a few strands of hair behind my left ear. “You mean your hands?”
“What else would I be referring to? Isn’t that usually where a wedding ring goes?” He sounded genuinely perplexed.
I coughed and shuffled my feet, fighting the urge to flee the room or drown myself in my cup of coffee. My only option was to play it off. I whirled with a fabricated smile in place.
“That’s what I was talking about. Anyways, you said you wanted to show me Meg’s stuff?”
“Yeah, come with me.”
Leaving my coffee to cool, I followed him back upstairs. We went in the opposite direction of the guestroom, to a door located at the very end of the hall.
“This was her bedroom.”
“You didn’t share a room?” I asked the question as I thought it.
“Never.” He twisted the knob then stepped to the side, allowing me to enter first. I tried to avoid brushing against him, but the contact was inevitable. There wasn’t enough space.
My breasts skimmed his (very solid) chest, and I sent a small thanks to god that I’d covered my nipples. They went taut, practically aching with a need to be touched.
Fortunately, the state of the room served as a welcome distraction.
Various boxes were piled all over the place. The king-sized bed was notably missing its mattress. I thought this was odd but didn’t comment on it. A hint of something like disinfectant lingered in the air.
“Um. I didn’t expect there to be so much. I don’t think I’ll be able to get through all this before I go back.”
“We can change the return flight.”
My reaction to those words was as unexpected as him saying them. I frowned and purposely avoided meeting his gaze. I waved my hand around the room. “This is a ton of stuff. You’ve already gone through all of it?”
“I haven’t sorted through anything. My mother and a friend were kind enough to box all this up.”
I drew my lips into a straight-line and gave him a side-long glance.
“Then how will I know what to do with any of it?”
“Simple. If you come across something you feel I should have set it to the side for me.”
This didn’t seem right. “But this is your wife’s stuff.”
“Catalina. She’s dead.” All his morning niceties fell away. There was an unmistakable trace of disdain in his cold tone.
