Page 54 of Plus-Size Bullied Mate

“So that’s a no.”

“That’s a yes, but I didn’t want to admit the first one was cold,” she says with a sigh as if losing an internal argument with herself. She glances at the mug next to her, then over to me. “Please.”

Hearing that little word from her, and feeling the concession in it, I fight to keep my expression mostly neutral despite how my lips pull subtly.

With a nod, I grab the mug and take it to the kitchen.

“Riveting courtship,” Dominic mumbles when I pass him, playing it off despite his shit-eating grin.

“Dom.”

He chuckles and flips another page. “I’m just saying, you really have a way with words.”

“And I can also have a way with kicking you out into the storm.”

“You know you’d miss me.”

Tessa lets out a quiet laugh from her spot, but she doesn’t fully acknowledge it or even look in my direction.

Still, I catch it and file it away.

Before long, I bring her the new tea, and she takes it, looking at me properly now. The brief contact of her fingers against mine when she grabs the mug makes the bond sound like it’s at full volume.

She thanks me, I nod, and I pretend this quiet acceptance from her isn’t making me spiral like a teenager. But it is, and I didn’t prepare myself for it.

After the fact, I go back to the kitchen and pretend to find something to do there.

***

The storm doesn’t change much by the evening, as the wind is just as strong, and the rain doesn’t show any signs of letting up.

Dominic cycles through the couch, the kitchen, and the porch for less than a minute at a time before the wind drives him back in, and each time it happens, he complains all over again. He isn’t one for sitting still, and being stuck in the house for most of the day is obviously wearing him down.

Tessa works, or pretends to, given how the quality of her typing changes depending on whether she’s actually writing or just keeping her hands busy.

I do what the house needs and keep the fire going, all while fighting the constant urge to check in with Tessa. More so, I have to actively stop myself from prodding at this less resistant part of her, since it’s making me more curious than ever.

While not completely open with me, she isn’t being as cold as before, and it’s beginning to feel more like an open window than a locked door.

“You eating?” I ask at around five.

“Eventually,” she says.

“I’m making food now.”

She looks up. “Then I’ll eat now.”

The small exchange seems suddenly very agreeable of her, and it piques my interest more than it should

This is the version of Tessa that seems much more relaxed, and it’s intriguing in its own way. It comes out in glimpses, quick and unguarded, and then she notices she’s done it, and she shuts herself in again. But the glimpses are more frequent than they were a week ago, and I notice each one without fail.

I’m too attuned to her not to notice, and each time I do, it feels like the very thing between us we’ve been avoiding is finally starting to change into something more productive.

“You know, some steak would really hit the spot,” Dominic says with an exaggerated exhale as he joins me in the kitchen. “Since you’re wining and dining us both.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at that, gathering ingredients from the fridge. “Don’t push it. You’re lucky I’m feeding you at all.”

“And here I thought finding your mate would soften you up a bit,” he chides, taking up one of the stools to watch rather than help. He glances in Tessa’s direction. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”