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I've learned the hard way never to be the Prince that saves the damsel in distress. That's where things tend to blow up in your face. Life is much easier when you're only looking out for yourself and your family.
I'm prepared to offer her some cash, though, on the way out, to help her get started somewhere else.
But I don’t get a word out. She comes back out in a sundress. A fucking sundress that makes her look like daisies and buttercups and everything soft and good about this world.
Fuck.
The dress cups her breasts beautifully and flares out underneath skimming around her shapely calves. And even though the dress is not what could be called revealing in any way, I'm half of the mind that she put on the fucking thing to seduce me out of my mind.
And it’s fucking working.
"You came at the perfect time," she says as she heads to the kitchen. "The bagel should still be warm."
I don't follow her in immediately. I take a few seconds to catch my bearings and recover from seeing her like that. Then, I follow her.
I come in time to see her drizzle some syrup on top of the bagel sandwich. She turns and beams at me, then picks up the plate in her hand and holds it out in front of her face. "Try it."
I'd like to try you.
I shake off the words, but can't shake off the image of Eve offering Adam the apple that led to his doom.
I pick the sandwich up anyway, biting into it. And my mouth is in heaven.
Fuck, that’s good.
I nearly moan as the flavors burst into my mouth. I taste a blend of sweet and savory, with just a hint of tanginess to make it exotic. There's also something else in there, something I can't identify.
“Parsley,” she says as if she can read my mind. “That’s what ties it all together.”
“Mm,” I respond, but she could have told me it was poison for all I cared. I'm still taking another bite. I have to close my eyes when I do. Fuck, the second bite is even better than the first.
“You got any more?” I ask greedily after finishing off the sandwich.
“No, but I can make them.”
"Nah. It’s nothing, I don’t want to put you out.” Even though I really do.
“Nonsense,” she waves her hand. “Have a seat, I can make some more.”
As she moves around the kitchen getting things together, my eyes follow her and I feel a rumble of desire in my gut.
“How’s your ankle?” I inquire, watching her move around more easily than she did yesterday.
“Better,” she responds. “I iced it and stayed off it for the most part, so I think I should be good to go in the next few days.”
“What do you do?” I ask. “For work?”
She turns to me. "I do a bunch of things, but mostly I used to work at a restaurant as an assistant cook.”
“Used to?"
Her face falls and her shoulders tense up. “Yeah. I just got fired,” she responds.
Shit. So, she’s unemployed as I feared.
“Are your parents close by?” I ask again and she shakes her head.
"They live in Alabama,” she says. I’m relieved. At least that’s not halfway across the country. I could get her a bus ticket.
