"Then I'd have to kick your ass."
"Oh yeah? You'd kick my ass if I had a gun and was trying to rob you?"
"Mhm."
She stops and turns so her back is to the counter. "I'd like to see you try that."
"Would that turn you on?"
"Not really. I've never been someone who finds violence attractive. It shows a complete lack of self-control in most circumstances."
I take a step closer to her, leaving only a couple of feetbetween us. "But in that fake scenario, I'm defending myself. Does that make it better?"
"Slightly."
I cock an eyebrow, questioning her.
"If it were me, I'd just run out the back door." She points over her shoulder to the French doors that lead out to the back patio.
I take another step closer and box her in by bracing my hands on the counter on both sides of her.
"Now you see, that doesn't work for me. I've got shit to protect here. I couldn't just run away like a coward."
"In the real world, cowards tend to live longer. I'd say they're smarter than ego-driven men who try to fight when there's a perfectly good exit plan." She shifts on her feet, but there's nowhere for her to go with me in front of her, my arms at her sides, and the counter pressing into her back.
"You already planning your exit?"
I feel like most women would be squirming under my gaze in this compromised position, but not Blake. She stares right back at me with fire in her eyes. She licks her lips and bites the bottom one between her teeth, teasing me.
"Maybe."
My laugh sounds sinister. I shake my head and simply marvel at this woman and her honesty.
"That's smart."
I push off the counter and walk back toward the stove, where my rice is probably getting too dry. When I turn my back, I hear her suck in a deep breath. It's the only hint she gives me that I have any effect on her at all.
I hear something thump against the lower cabinets, and I glance over my shoulder to see that it was her feet as she was jumping up onto the counter to make herself comfortable.
"So, what are you making me?"
I take the rice off the stove and give it a stir. Not too dry, should be fine.
"This? This is just for me. I thought you said you didn't want me to cook you dinner." I smirk, only because my back is turned to her.
"You're so full of shit. I can see you smiling in the reflection of the window."
Damn it. I glance up into the window above the sink and find her staring at me.
"It's just garlic chicken and rice."
"Of course you eat rice with your chicken."
My shoulders shake as I openly laugh now. "What's that supposed to mean?"
I bend down and pull the chicken out of the oven.
"Well, you don't look like that from eating the shit I eat."
