He loved me? I was grinning as I tasted the Bolognese sauce and turned it down to a simmer before I put on water to boil.
The tap of Mouse’s nails on the hardwood as he walked in to sit at the edges of the kitchen reminded me to fill his bowl. I made a salad to go with the meat sauce and dug through Dutch’s pantry, delighted to findpappardelle to go with the sauce.
Leave it to him to go above and beyond the usual staple items.
I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt him to feed him or let him cycle out of the creative fog he was in. I knew I could go hours without eating when I was in it. Knowing it was so hard for him to get there, I decided the food could keep. At least for him. I was freaking starving.
As the sun set, Mouse and I settled on the couch with a book. Unrepentant, I found one of his books from the bottom shelf where he hid them. When a few more hours had passed, and my heart was pounding out of my chest, I took a break from the book.
Dutch’s superpower was the atmosphere he created in a book. And the world definitely shouldn’t be denied his art. I’d make sure he finished this book if it killed me, dammit.
I filled a bowl with the fragrant sauce and pasta and brought it with me down the hall. At least he could eat over his laptop if he was writing.
I knocked.
No answer.
“Dutch.”
I heard the sounds of fingers flying over keys at a rapid pace. Bracing for a growling bear, I eased the door open. He was at his desk; his curls had air dried around his face in a wild halo. Hisshoulders hunched over the keys in a chair too small for his large frame.
I set the bowl beside him and kissed his forehead.
He barely noticed me.
I was about to leave him and hope the scent of food pulled him away enough to eat when he suddenly turned to me and hauled me into his arms.
“Thanks,” he said against my mouth after a mind-scrubbing kiss.
Off balance, I laughed. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry, I just...” His eyes were still unfocused and I could tell he wanted to dive back in.
“Don’t worry about me.” I brushed a curl out of his face and looped my arms around his shoulders. “Seeing you in your element is hot.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“I’ll show you just how much it does it for me when you come to bed.”
He glanced at his screen. “Are you sure? I won’t be mad if you want to go back to your own studio.”
I shook my head. “I’m enjoying a very enthralling book.”
His eyes grew wary. “One of mine?”
“Maybe.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to know.”
“You’re very talented, Dutch. You know you are, but if I have to tell you every day to remind you of that fact, I will.”
His fingers dug into my sides as he rested his chin against my middle. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Probably not.” I grinned and smoothed my thumb along the bristles of his shorter beard. “Eat.”
He straightened and nodded. “I will.”
“Don’t make me come back down here and scold you.”
