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She stopped, slowly looking at me over her shoulder.
“Join me?” I hesitated. “Please,” I added finally.
She looked from the bed to me, back to the bed again.
“I’ll be a gentleman.”
Busy took a breath, came deeper into the room, and sat in the chair in the corner.
A breath of relief left me. I didn’t want to be alone, but I also had no idea how to actually say that. I was just thankful that she listened to me.
I wanted her closer, but I wouldn’t press, so this would have to do. For now.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked.” She nodded toward the plate in front of me.
“This is perfect. I can’t repay you enough for this.” I looked over the spread laid out on the plate. There was a bottle of water, a small container of strawberry yogurt, a sandwich with lettuce and some sort of deli meat on it, a few baby carrots and a cupcake. I lifted the cupcake first.
“That’s left over from someone’s birthday. It’s about a month old but was in the freezer, so it should still taste fresh.”
“Whose birthday?” I asked, inspecting the cupcake. I wasn’t much of a sweets guy, but I would eat it. I would eat everything on the plate. Knowing the trouble she went through to prepare this for me, I would still eat everything even if I was allergic to it.
“Mine,” Busy said softly.
My eyes shot to hers. “Happy belated birthday.”
She chewed her bottom lip. “Thank you.”
“How old are you?” I blurted. “I mean…I’m sorry. That’s rude of me.”
She laughed. “It’s okay. My birthday was actually last month. I turned twenty-three.”
My dick twitched.
Fucking hell.
No wonder she blushed whenever I was near. She was young.
“H-How old are you?” she stammered.
“Thirty-four.” I suddenly felt like a dirty old man. I was eleven years older than her. She probably had guys lined up at her door, ready to sweep her off her feet.
“Really? Not to be rude but you don’t look thirty-four.”
I smirked. “I’ve always looked young for my age. Good genes I guess.”
She tilted her head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“How am I looking at you?”Like I want to eat you for dinner.
“I’m not sure,” she whispered. “But you’re looking at me like you’re thinking or wanting something.”
“I’m actually thinking how I’m a dirty fucker.”
Her breath caught. “Why?”
“Because I’m older than you.”
She rolled her eyes then. “Yeah, because you’re so old. You’re only eleven years older than me and it’s not a big deal. My dad’s fourteen years older than my mom.”
