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“Hey, I did have to venture out and bring a few citizens food and water.”
“You did? Who?”
“A couple of elderly ladies who live about a mile away.”
“Ah, I knew it. I had a feeling the ladies of Pine Cove made calls of distress just to get you to them.”
“And why is that?” He asks slyly, a smile playing on his lips and a gleam in his eyes.
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes. “You know why.”
“Why don’t you tell me, Ashley,” he says, coming up next to me. His chest brushes against my shoulder as he leans in and places the plates on the table, my heartrate kicking up.
“Well, because, you’re you.”
“And what am I?”
“I am right, though, aren’t I?” I ask, breathless. I can’t focus on what he’s asking me.
“Only sometimes,” his low voice whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin.
“Seriously?”
“No, sweetheart.” He chuckles. “I like that you’re jealous, though.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You are,” he says, brushing my hair over my shoulder, exposing my neck. “But I like it.”
A chill runs down my spine. “I’m not. Now sit, and I’ll bring dinner over.”
“I got it. You sit.” With a gentle nudge to my arm, I sit in the chair I’m closest to, and watch him carry the casserole dish to the table.
He changed out of his uniform and into sweatpants and a Pine Cove High football t-shirt. And damn. Holy hot balls. Those pants hang off of his hips like they were meant for me to just tug them down, and his t-shirt is stretched tight across his broad chest, showing me every hard plane.
“So, what did you do today? Do much snooping?” he asks.
Smiling, I spoon out a decent portion of penne onto my plate, the pasta steaming up into my face, smelling heavenly. “Oh, I snooped. I love your book collection. I’m surprised, actually.”
“That I read?”
“Yes.” I smile. “And that you have such an extensive collection of classics. I’m surprised, and impressed.”
“I’m happy to keep you on your toes.” He smirks, spooning out his own portion of pasta. “This smells really good, Ash, thank you. You didn’t have to cook. I was going to when I got home.”
“I wanted to. And”–I look up at him–“I wanted to say thank you for letting me stay with you. Having electricity and hot water is nice. I don’t think I would have lasted much longer at Dottie’s if you hadn’t saved me.”
“You’re welcome. But you would have made it. You’re strong.”
Smiling, I take a bite of pasta and close my eyes. Damn, it’s good, if I do say so myself. Which I am.
“Ash.” He groans. “This is fucking delicious.”
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t know you could cook.”
“You don’t know much about me, Ryan.”
