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Lachlan poked his head through the door, and then his feet followed. “Smells good. You didn’t do anything crazy, did you?”
“No,” I waved a hand.I almost died. It was horrible. I’m never cooking again.
As I shut the door, he leaned over behind me and ghosted a kiss along my jaw. “Good, because if you overdid it, I’m tying you to the bed.”
The heat in my neck flamed to my hairline. “Oh my God.”
He chuckled, kissed my cheek, and then turned to Calla. “I found something for you.”
She squealed with delight, her curly, dark blond hair bouncing as she hopped down from the barstool. “What is it?”
He pulled a character-topped juice from the grocery bag. It was the same character from her favorite show. She split the air with her delighted shriek, and he laughed, bending on one knee to help her open it.
I watched them with folded arms and a smile, walking slowly through the living room to join them. Had I fallen for an android? This guy couldn’t be real.
Wait, fallen? No, you didn’t, Laurel. You did not just say that. Backtrack that fuckin train.
Lachlan surveyed the food on the table as he stood. “Hey, you added gross food.”
“Guess I kind of like you,” I admitted, coming to stand next to him.
He slid a hand along the side of my face, and his fingers tugged playfully on a curl near my ear. “Ireallylike you, cutie.” I lit up like a Christmas tree.
Calla watched us, and then her eyes got huge. “Ohhhhhh.”
I jumped, taking a step back. “Hey, do you want to drink your juice with your dinner?”
Easily distracted, she skipped to the little folding table we had in the corner of the combined kitchen/dining room area and took her seat on a mismatched dining room chair. I had one wrought iron chair, one light-colored, 90s, wood chair, and a folding, metal chair. I liked to think of it as eclectic chic.
Lachlan sat on the folding chair in front of a super classy, teal plastic plate. After the first dozen broken dishes with Calla, I’d abandoned the fragile ones. “Chili, huh?” he asked.
“Well, you bought ground turkey, and I literally have no idea what else to do with that.”
He huffed a laugh. “Looks awesome.”
I shrugged, smiling.
Lachlan dished up my plate while I cut Calla’s potato and broccoli, and then ladled chili into his bowl. “I wish I could stay longer, but night shifts are kind of merciless.”
“Ah, sorry, that sounds rough,” I said, sitting in front of my plate. “Is it a long shift?”
“It’s twelve hours. I’m the only unmarried, childless guy, so I take a good share of night shifts.” He took a bite of chili.
“Are you a night owl, or do you ha—”
Lachlan suddenly coughed, his mouth closed tightly, and he swallowed. His face went beet red, and his eyes started to water.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” I gasped. “Is it the chili?” I started to take a bite to see what was wrong with it, but his hand lashed out and slammed mine to the table. Chili from my spoon went flying.
Lachlan coughed hard, wheezing, and his other fist clenched hard on the table as he screwed his eyes shut.
I put my free hand to my mouth. “Did I kill you? What’s happening?”
“Is it spicy?” Calla demanded loudly, her eyes turning to me with an accusatory squint. Calla did not do spicy.
“I-I didn’t think it would be,” I said lamely.
Lachlan still had my hand in a death grip, and he seemed to be having some kind of laughing, coughing fit. He took a drink of water from his cup, but it didn’t seem to make a difference.
