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Nat told me she doesn’t want to press charges. That she just wants to move on. And I get it. I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make this guy wish he was never born. Cole Lewis is going to beg for death before I’m through with him.
The door opens suddenly and I see Helena’s smiling face. She doesn’t greet me, just grabs my arm and pulls me in. The conversations between the girls doesn’t dim now that I’m here, they just talk around me. And it surprises the shit outta me that I don’t want to leave now that I’m here. Nat’s voice is already soothing me. Being around Nina and Helena is like being around Nat, times three.
I like it.
They’re all the same. Their looks, voice and personality. It’s cool. I can’t help the smirk that crosses my face.
Three of Nat. Jeez. One is more than enough.
Nat catches my smirk, stops talking and looks over at me. She wears a questioning glance, but I just smirk and shrug. She narrows her eyes at me but continues her conversation. Next thing I know, I’m led to the dining table and being seated. Each of the girls brings over dishes of food. My brow creases and I look around the apartment for the additional guests I assume are coming.
There’s no fucking way they cooked all this food just for the four of us. There’s enough to feed fifteen people!
I sit across from Nat and take her in while she chats to Helena. Her eye’s swelling has lessened even more and she looks in good spirits. Her flaming red hair looks newly colored and cut, as does Helena’s. They must’ve had a girls’ spa day. I search her face for some sign of distress but I can’t see any. Her beautiful green eyes are bright and sparkling, her cheeks are flushed from laughter and her full lips are pink and delicious. She’s not wearing makeup and, somehow, it’s turning me on.
Does she look this fresh when she wakes up in the morning?
My semi-erection swells. I’m so fucking ashamed of myself. The girl just got attacked by the guy she was dating, and I’m thinking about her in my bed.
Fuck me. I’m an asshole.
Yeah, I really am.
***
I look across the table at Ghost and my lady bits flutter happily.
The man’s hotter than Hell, that’s for sure.
Wearing black jeans, a tight white long-sleeved tee and steel-capped boots, sigh, he looks gorgeous. Looking closely at him makes me wonder what I ever saw in Cole. When my eyes reach his, I freeze. His soft brown eyes have darkened to almost black. He’s looking at me like I’m dinner. And he’s very hungry.
My mouth becomes drier than the Sahara and my cheeks heat. I dip my head to avoid his intense stare. After a moment of hiding my body’s betraying flush, I sneak another peek at him. My lady boner deflates when I see he’s not staring at me anymore, just listening to my sisters’ jibber jabber.
Damn. Could’ve really used the ego boost right now.
I watch in amusement as my sisters load up Ghost’s plate with food. It’s seriously a smallish mountain and his look of astonishment is freakin’ hilarious. I chuckle, shaking my head. Nina and Helena will be pissed if he doesn’t eat what they’ve put on there for him.
A smiling Nina tells him, “Once you eat your dinner, we’ve got Krempita f
or dessert. You’ll love it. It’s like a vanilla pudding slice. There’s pastry on the top and bottom, and the middle is this thick, smooth pudding. So yummy. ”
Helena and I look at each other and yell out, “Yummeh!”
I bite my lip to stop myself from bursting into laughter. Ghost looks like he’s having trouble digesting the fact that Nina just told him to eat his dinner like a good little boy but quietly responds, “Thank you. This all looks delicious. ”
We watch him like the hawks we are, and he starts with a small bite of the peas and rice Helena made. Helena tells him, “That’s called Rizi Bizi. ” And Ghost almost chokes on his food. I smile. The pronunciation is funny, okay!
Every time he samples a dish, one of my sisters explains what it is and who taught them to cook it. Now, I don’t wanna blow my own whistle, but I’m a damn good cook and it makes me a little sad that nothing going into Ghost’s belly is something I made. The guy took care of me last night and I haven’t given him anything to say thank you. I could’ve at least made the damn cake!
Now that I think about it, I don’t think I even said the words thank you to him.
I suddenly feel lower than scum and abruptly lose my appetite. I keep my head lowered in shame, pick at the things on my plate and listen to my sisters have one-sided conversations with Ghost.
Everyone has finished eating and I’m surprised to see that Ghost cleaned his plate. I get up to collect the dishes, but when I pass him, I feel the urge to do something ultra-cheesy and too familiar. I hesitate but my hand has a mind of its own. Running my fingers through his longish, ashy colored hair I ask, “Good?”
He looks sated and stupid happy. Smiling a small smile with eyes half-mast like he’s falling into a food coma, he responds with a happy grunt. I run my fingers through his hair again and tell him quietly, “You need a haircut. ”
Still running my fingers through his hair, he closes his eyes in bliss. He exhales through his reply, “I hate getting it cut, they never do it how I want it. ”
