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“It’s called my entertainment, your fulfillment.” He pulled at my jacket sleeve again. “There is nothing wrong with what we’re doing.”
Yes, until he reached down and intertwined our fingers, as though that were typical of friends.
The door buzzed, breaking up the tension in the room, and my stomach pinched.
He extracted his hold and gave me a pointed look.
“That’s the food. You’re staying, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
When he turned to the door, I chucked off my jacket, leaving it on the back of the couch.
Food did sound good, and ten more minutes wouldn’t hurt anybody.
We aren’t doing anything wrong. We aren’t doing anything wrong,I repeated in my head to convince myself.
But a little voice said otherwise, that Alec would disapprove. Or worse, be hurt.
And a louder voice in my head screamed that I was getting way too comfortable around Austin, and I needed to stop. Stat.
Any other guy, yeah, but not the guy whose sister had broken my brother’s heart.
I set the table. I’d gotten used to eating here even though Austin still found it odd. He was so used to eating at the island, he’d said. Well, too bad. We always ate at the dinner table, growing up, so that was what I would continue to do.
I walked to the kitchen island, where Austin was unpacking the food. He opened the package with one hand, and when I offered, he tipped his chin and motioned me back to my chair.
“I’ll do it. I’m getting used to doing everything with one arm.”
I frowned, feeling annoyingly concerned for him. “You should still let the ligaments heal.”
He stuck the serving spoon into the rice. Then the broccoli and then the chicken breast. “I’m fine, Sydney, and I like doing this … serving you for once.”
The way he’d said the words made a shiver run down my spine.
We were silent as we ate, the only sounds coming from the heater in the background blasting on high. I dipped my fork in my rice and pushed it in my mouth. Every time my eyes met Austin’s, my body temperature would rise a few degrees. He was throwing me the same look he’d been giving me at the gym, like he was picturing me naked.
“When are you getting that sling off?” I asked, knowing it was soon. He’d already gotten his splint off.
This week would be four weeks, and I remembered that the doctor had mentioned something about the four-week mark.
The look in his eyes hinted at sadness, and I wasn’t sure why. “This Thursday, then in a week and a half I go straight into rehab.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat, also feeling an unexplained sadness. What the heck? “Seems fast, no?”
“Yeah, the last few weeks have flown by.”
There was that look again. Intensity, heat … yearning. It made my cheeks flame.
“Monday night, I have plans for us.”
I almost choked on the chicken. “Plans?”
“Yeah. Make sure you’re here by five.”
“I get off at five. I won’t be here by then.” My mind went into hyperdrive, and so did my rapidly beating heart.
“Then, I’ll have a car pick you up at Loverly.”
I pointed my fork at him as heat rushed to my cheeks again. “What have you got planned?”
