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This was letting me in.
The question was what he’d do with me if I fell into those dark eyes.
Skewer me over an open flame, or bubble wrap me in his warm protective embrace?
I thought about what Addie had said when she’d thrown her arms around him. Five seconds. Did that mean he only let anyone embrace him for five seconds? Or had it meant something else?
My Grandpa Jack, whom I’d named Jackson after, had a five-second rule. You could let the pain or hurt in for five seconds and then you had to let it go. Was that why Vic only let her touch him for five seconds? Did something happen to him?
“Can I have strawberries now?” Jackson asked Vic, jerking me from my thoughts.
“Sure, kid.”
“I’ll get them,” I said and quickly moved past Vic to the fridge and opened the door. If I could’ve without looking like a psycho woman, I would’ve stuck my head inside right next to the cashew milk.
Cashew milk? I huffed. Who had cashew milk in their fridge? I didn’t even know there was such a thing. But then, when could I ever afford cashews, let alone cashew milk.
The cool air slowly eased the fire scorching my cheeks, and I grabbed the carton of strawberries and closed the fridge.
“Water heater is fixed but needs a new one,” Vic said.
I glanced over my shoulder at him as I set the carton in the sink and turned on the tap to wash them off. “Oh, that’s great. Thanks. I can pay for—”
He cut me off. “Jesus, you’re not paying for a new water heater.” He chin-lifted to the right. “Bowls are in the top right cupboard.”
I left the tap running over the strawberries while I reached up into the cupboard for a bowl. Despite the lack of furniture in the house, there were stacks of plates and bowls. I grabbed a bowl, lined it with a paper towel, and dumped the strawberries in.
I walked back to the island and set them down in the middle before taking one and plopping it into my mouth.
I chewed the strawberry, and the succulent juices exploded in my mouth and wet my lips. I ran my tongue over my lower lip to catch the stray droplets and heard Vic’s glass of green sludge clank down on the granite.
My gaze shot to him. But he wasn’t looking at me—not really. No, his heated eyes were on my lips.
I yanked my tongue back inside the safety of my mouth, and Vic’s eyes drifted to mine. There wasn’t a hint of desire in the depths, and yet having his eyes on my mouth felt like the most erotic thing ever.
“Can I stay with Vic today?”
“Hmm, sorry?” I swallowed the rest of the strawberry, not daring to look back at Vic again.
“Can I stay with Vic when you go to work?”
“Umm, well, Mrs. Fisherton is expecting you.” Hettie was bowling this afternoon.
“Pleeeease. Mrs. Fisherton makes me eat bananas, and her house smells like cow shit.”
“Jackson!” I admonished.
“But I wasn’t swearing. It really smells like shit, and Hettie said it was okay to use bad words in con…tape.”
I heard a snort from Vic, and the corners of his lips twitched.
That sounded exactly like something Hettie would say. “In context, little man. And I don’t want you using that word, period.” I placed my hands on the island and leaned my body against it because my legs were a little wobbly from having Vic’s eyes on me. “I don’t think Vic wants you hanging around here, Jack-o-bite. He has stuff to do.” I didn’t know what stuff, but there was no way he’d want Jackson hanging around for the next six hours.
“It’s good,” Vic stated. “Jaeg’s headed over to help with drywall.”
I looked at him, and I noticed his hand was centimeters from mine. If I twitched my pinkie finger, they’d touch. What would it be like to have his hands on my naked skin? To feel the rough and callused hands gliding across my belly. His fingertips between my legs.
And he’d touch me like he meant it. There’d be no hesitation. No uncertainty.
