Page 37 of One Midnight Kiss

“Unbelievable,” I muttered, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes. Something that felt suspiciously like amusement, which was dangerous. He was enjoying himself too much.

Something had changed between us after that night with the blown tire. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but I knew I didn’t despise him as much as I used to, and that was super inconvenient. I didn’t want to like him.

“I don’t let guys come over to my house, you know,” I said, more to remind myself than to inform him.

He shrugged, unapologetic. “You told me. And you didn’t let me in, remember?”

“And yet, here you are.” I sipped the medicine and stared at his profile. I should’ve told him to leave, but I didn’t. And it wasn’t just because I didn’t have the energy. The truth was, I didn’t want him to leave, and that realization made me feel chills in a different way. Clearly, the fever had fried my brain.

“Do you watch football?” he asked suddenly.

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking because you want to watch the game?”

“Yes.”

“No, I don’t watch football.”

He reached for the remote, clearly not caring if I wanted to watch football or not. I watched him flip through the channels until he found the Monday night pregame show. He got up, went back to the kitchen and rummaged around again. When he returned, he had a can of my soda.

He cracked it open and took a sip, making himself at home on the far side of the couch. I watched him, feeling oddly comfortable. Here he was, this man who was supposed to be all sharp edges and billionaire swagger, sitting on my couch like he belonged here. It made me uneasy, and yet I couldn’t look away.

The worst part about it was he looked like he belonged. Like he had been to my house a hundred times before and just fit right in. Seeing his place, I knew he wasn’t all about the luxury, but still. He was a billionaire. But he seemed so normal.

“Why are you here, Fox?” I asked, breaking the silence. “What do you want?”

He looked at me, feigning surprise. “You don’t think I just came by to check on you?”

“Of course not,” I said, deadpan.

He smiled but it looked a little sad. “You’re sick enough to miss work, and you haven’t even taken your vacation days this year, according to Penelope. It sounded serious enough to see how you were doing. It’s almost Thanksgiving, Natalia. I appreciate all the hard work you’ve been doing but now you need to rest.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I do.”

For a moment, I was too stunned to respond.

“I think I might not hate you as much as I thought,” I said finally, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

He grinned, a flash of relief crossing his face. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “I doubt that.”

“No, really,” he insisted, his voice lighter, teasing. “Usually, people just want me for my money or my stunning good looks.”

“And your modesty,” I added dryly.

“Exactly,” he said, smirking.

A minute later, the doorbell rang. He jumped up and went to answer it. Again, it was like he belonged. When he returned, he opened the bag and hauled out containers of curry and rice and spring rolls. He spread them out on the coffee table in front of us. I eyed him warily.

We dug into the food, tendrils of steam wafting up from the containers. The spicy aroma tickled my senses. The red curry was spicy enough to make my eyes water. Surprisingly, my sinuses cleared. I was able to breathe a little better. I loved Thai food but didn’t eat it too often.

“You actually ordered something I liked,” I said, holding back the surprise in my tone.

He shrugged, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I had a hunch,” he said, sounding daringly close to self-satisfied. It was that maddening smirk again as he watched me navigate through my bowl of curry.

I didn’t want to know how he knew what I liked, unless he really took a wild guess. That would be crazy. We ate in silence for a while, the football game commentators filling in the quiet gaps between us. The spiced aroma of the food mixed with the crisp citrus scent of my medicine, and for a moment, it made me forget that this was anything but ordinary.