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My gaze slips down again.
Don’t think about his ass.
An impossible feat when it’s just there, taunting me.
I clear my throat. “I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this, on the night before Christmas Eve and all.”
He passes through an open archway leading into a country-style kitchen. I shine the flashlight around, taking in the white cabinets, butcher block counters, and copper sink.
He sets his candle down on the island, casting a gentle glow on the surface, then opens a cupboard, pulling out a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. He lifts his brows at me. “Peanut butter and jelly okay?”
My stomach groans in anticipation. I would eat cat food right now. “That sounds perfect.”
“How many?”
I shrug. “A million.”
The corner of his mouth twitches.
“Two would be great.”
I set the flashlight on the counter, pointing it in his general direction to offer additional illumination without blinding him.
He opens the fridge, grabbing a jar of jelly.
I hop into one of the upholstered chairs next to the island. “My bus ran out of gas, and I saw the porch light and I didn’t know what else to do because my phone is dead. Do you have a phone I could borrow? I should call my family.”
He stops midspread with the butter knife, setting it to the side before retrieving a sleek black phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it, and sliding it over to me.
“Thanks.” I stare down at the screen. I’ll call them after I eat. I nibble my bottom lip. Or maybe I won’t. I don’t want them to worry.
I push the phone to the side. “Where are Paul and Moira? And your cousins?”
“They’re out of town.”
I frown. “Without you?”
The knife stills over the open jar of peanut butter. “I had work through yesterday. They don’t know I’m here. I didn’t know I would be able to make it home in time for the holidays until the last minute.” He shrugs, giant shoulders shifting up and down. “I’m only here for a few days anyway. They went to Bermuda.”
“Where do you work?”
“I’m a field botanist. I sort of work everywhere. Anywhere they need me.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure exactly what that means, but before I can ask, he turns around, handing me a plate with the double stack of sandwiches.
All thoughts go flying out the window, my attention turning to filling the gaping hole in my stomach.
I take a giant bite and suppress the urge to groan. It’s probably because I’m starving, but this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.
Once I’ve wolfed down the first sandwich, I come up for air. “I didn’t think I would make it home today either. My family doesn’t even know I’m here. Not because I was working or anything, but because—I travel a lot,” I finish lamely. Because I only work on a needs-must basis, and usually at some random dive bar or restaurant to make quick cash for gas, necessities, and to cover the cost of traveling to various music festivals around the country. Last year, I also put some extra funds into hiring a private investigator, which meant I had to work a little more than usual, but it will be worth it.
I hope.
I stuff sandwich number two into my mouth while he puts away the foodstuffs.
“Water?”
I nod, mouth full, and he grabs a bottle from the fridge and sets it in front of me.
