Page 25 of Torin

The teasing fades from his voice on the last words.

I look away first. Take in the boxes piled beside the door, then back at him. “What’s all this?”

“Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Very descriptive.”

His mouth twitches. “Food. Painkillers. Couple other things I thought you might need.”

“That is a lot of food.”

“I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

He says it so casually. As if, when faced with the problem of buying groceries for a woman he barely knows, the obvious solution was to buy enough different things that I could choose.

“Want me to bring it in?” he asks. “Or I can leave everything here.”

“Bring it in. Please.”

“Sure.”

He picks up two boxes and carries them through to the kitchen while I grab one of the bags.

He sets the boxes on the counter and starts unpacking. There’s bread, eggs, bacon, milk, coffee, fruit, pasta, cheese, yogurt, several kinds of cereal and enough snacks to stock a gas station.

I pick up two different jars of peanut butter.

“Were you expecting another natural disaster?”

“Didn’t know if you liked smooth or crunchy.”

I stare at him. “So, you bought both?”

“Seemed easier than guessing.” He shrugs. “Hey, there are painkillers in that bag.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

I find the Advil, shake two tablets into my palm and reach for a glass.

“You hungry?”

I ate right before bed, but that was hours ago. “Yeah.”

He reaches for the eggs and bacon.

“What are you doing?”

“Feeding you.”

“You know I can cook my own breakfast.”

“Can you?” His expression is perfectly innocent.

I narrow my eyes. “Yes.”