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When I open my eyes again, Zander is staring at me with a knowing expression. My cheeks burn and I look away. He tugs me closer and whispers in my ear, “If you continue looking at me like that, I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder and take you behind those scanty bushes.”
I suck in a breath. I know he would never be so reckless. Zander is one of the most sensible people, yet I can’t control the shiver that passes through my body at his touch and his words. I close my eyes, taking everything in. I tell myself that this is real, not a dream.
“We need to move, baby, or else we’ll scare that little girl away,” he says in a gruff voice.
It takes me a moment to comprehend his words, and I turn in his arms to find a young girl watching us while licking her ice cream like we’re a part of some show at the carnival. The confusion on her face makes me chuckle, and I drag Zander away before we really scare her.
I take a seat on one of the benches as Zander grabs us food. He places a salad bowl and lemon soda in front of me before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“A question, if you don’t mind?” he asks.
I nod, biting through the soft goat cheese.
“Why a precise breakfast, but not a precise lunch and dinner?” He nods toward the salad bowl.
“Precise lunch and dinner didn’t work out while I was at college.” I smile.
“Explain.”
I’m still getting used to the idea of someone being interested in me, in little things about me, like my lunch and dinner choices.
“We had fixed menus at Kindred Hearts. I didn’t know any other way, so the first day out of the orphanage, I hung the same menus in my dorm room. But soon I learned that the university cafeteria didn’t have most of the items on my menu. I thought about cooking in my room, but it turns out I’m a horrible cook. I spent a big portion of my scholarship money in the first month paying restaurants extra to deliver my special requests. I knew I had to learn to adapt. Gradually, and for one meal a week, I started experimenting with the cafeteria food.”
I don’t tell him how many times those days I went to bed with an empty stomach because I couldn’t touch the new food. It took years before I learned to eat lunch and dinner on a whim—anything, anywhere.
“But you kept the breakfast menu?”
I nod. “I noticed that the cafeteria served similar breakfast options. I prepared a menu out of those, and some days I ate good old PB&J in my room.” Looking at him, I hesitate on whether to stop here or say more. But the look of affection-filled interest on his face decides for me, and I continue. “The familiarity kept my anxiety in check, and it was also my way of keeping my childhood with me. I didn’t have pictures on my dorm room wall of my parents, of trips with them, posters of rock bands…”
A sad expression etches over his handsome face.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, closing the empty salad box after dropping the plastic fork and paper napkin inside.
He collects the garbage and takes it to the trash can. We walk around some more when he asks, “Not even a Wolverine poster?”
I snort. “I had the same superhero poster you saw yesterday to keep me company.”
“Good. I would worry that you didn’t get your Wolverine high those days.”
“I don’t need a Wolverine high.” I playfully push against his chest. “Maybe you do.”
Pulling me closer, he says in his sexy gruff voice, “I just need your high, Marr.”
A paper bag rustles in his pocket as we come closer.
“What did you buy from Clem?” I remember him slipping a paper bag in his jacket.
“Something for you,” he says after a beat.
“Really? Let me see.” Without a second thought, I push my hand inside his jacket, but he grabs my wrist and halts my movement.
I freeze. What did I just do?
Glancing at me, he immediately releases my hand, which is still clutching the paper bag. “Jesus. Don’t look at me like that, couch girl. It’s just a little surprise. I want to give it to you when the time is right.”
Releasing the paper bag, I try to compose myself. “Sorry, I thought you didn’t like me touching you.”
“God, Marr, you’d run for the hills if you knew how much I want you to touch me. Touch me, kiss me, scratch me—I’m all yours, baby.”
