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I’d showered quickly, dressed, and made my way downstairs, following the quiet clanks in the kitchen until I stumbled upon half a dozen plates of breakfast and multiple mugs of drinks, steam curling from the liquid.
I knew Dev noticed my entrance immediately, but it took a moment for him to pull his eyes from the food laying in front of him, toes tapping in a familiar rhythm on the hardwood floor.
“You really like breakfast,” I commented with an attempt at a smile, trying to smooth the lines between his brows. My smile widened when it worked, his grin easy on his face when our eyes met.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat in the morning. I didn’t have cameras in your kitchen.”
I attempted a laugh at his easy admission of stalking me for months, but it came out as a wheeze, his sincerity a punch to the gut. He watched as I picked my favorites among everything he made, eyes narrowed as if memorizing exactly what I chose.
I reached out for the closest mug, the tan liquid inside smelling of spices and winter comfort. Dev stepped forward, and I flinched away from the mug, worried it was his.
“The chai is homemade. If you don’t like it, I made coffee too.”
“I like chai.” I pulled the mug closer to my chest, worried he’d take it away if he thought I didn’t enjoy it.
Dev made his plate with the remaining food while I sat at the small table in the breakfast nook, looking out into the backyard as I waited for him to settle across from me. I sipped my chai, stifling a groan at how much better homemade was than the lattes I’d been buying at chain coffee shops.
Dev fell into the chair across from me with effortless grace, hair falling over his forehead as he dug into his food, eyes flicking up to mine with a small smile as I drank. And I felt the first bricks fall from the tower I’d spent the night building.
Then it was the car. After breakfast, we’d left the house, Dev wrapping his arm around my shoulders as I shivered in the early morning air. Linked together, we ducked under the bare branches of the cherry blossom and made our way downthe path to the driveway. Only the truck was no longer there; instead, a compact SUV sat in its place, as if it’d shrunk overnight.
“What happened to the truck?” I asked, dumbstruck at the sight before me. I didn’t hold any particular fondness for the truck. It was only that Dev was such atruckguy. He was the kind of guy who drove a truck because hewantedto help you move. Alternatively, considering the business he was in, because he needed to move a dead body or a large cache of weapons.
“Just needed a change, Red. No big deal.”
He was right; it wasn’t a big deal. It was only that I’d begun to associate the truck with Dev. Not only from driving in it over the past couple days, but because I’d realized I recognized the car from back when Dev was watching me. I’d seen it parked on my street occasionally, with no one inside, and assumed it was a neighbor’s. Once I knew it was Dev’s, it made him feel even more familiar, his truck a presence in my life before I knew he hid in the shadows.
It also felt like I was somehow responsible for the sudden vehicle change, especially considering the narrowed eyes he shot me as he helped me down from his truck the evening before. The way he’d held his arms out to catch me in case I stumbled like I had the morning I was attacked. It was conceited, sure, but I couldn’t keep the thought out of my mind, the words on the tip of my tongue to ask the entire drive. But as we arrived at Alex and Ames’s house and he watched me get out of the car with no effort or stumbling on my part, the smile on his lips widening further, I didn’t ask. Because I knew.
“Is anybody home?” I asked as we walked into the house.
The foyer was void of all the life and excitement from the days before, still in a way that I could tell - even from only spending a night here - it usually wasn’t.
“Nope. Ames and Wren both work today, so I’m sure John and Cian are with them,” Dev said, and I remembered the women telling me about their jobs the day before, in between looking through tablescapes online and menu planning.
Wren owned a floral shop, and Ames worked part-time teaching classes at a local pottery studio. She also had a home studio in the backyard, selling ceramics online and to local restaurants and shops. “Alex and Bex are setting up some computer shit at her and Wren’s house,” he added, accounting for the other half of his friends.
Dev led me through the foyer, down the hallway, and through another door until we were descending a set of stairs. It led to a finished basement that had been converted into a miniature gym. It was even nicer than the gym in my apartment, though admittedly I had only been twice since moving in. Mirrors lined the back wall, with one side of the room housing various machines and weights. The rest of the floor held thick mats that were clearly for some sort of sparring.
Dev grabbed a few weights from the racks along one wall before he made his way over to a padded bench. He set the weights to the side as he flattened the bench before straddling it.
“You want me to watch you work out?” I suddenly wished I’d brought a book or my laptop, not realizing that Dev was on babysitting duty when he’d told me we were heading out to run an errand.
Dev laughed, patting the space in front of his open thighs. “I want you to work out with me. I like the idea of you being able to fight back, like you did in that alley, but with more training this time. Even if I never plan on you being put in that position again, it would make me feel better.”
Another thoughtful gesture, another brick tumbling from its tower.
I made my way over to him, glad I’d thrown on comfortable clothes that morning. Though I also had no doubt that Dev would’ve made me change if I weren’t already wearing leggings and a sweatshirt.
I copied Dev’s position, straddling the bench to face him, the space short enough that our knees touched.
“I can’t imagine we’re going to fight on a bench,” I said with a smirk, my chest fluttering as Dev’s smile widened in response.
“Strength training plays a larger role than you’d think in fighting. Building muscle as you build skill is the best combination.” He picked the weights up off the floor, holding them out for me to grab before reaching back down for a much larger set. “We’ll start with bicep curls.”
Chest presses followed the bicep curls, Dev raising the back of the bench so I could lie on an incline. He grabbed my ponytail as I leaned back, wrapping it around his fist as he pulled me into position. And then he let it go, making sure my hair fell behind the bench so it didn’t catch behind my back as I pushed the weights above my head. He tapped my elbows as I worked, making sure my form was correct as he counted out my reps. I was glad for his attention, because I couldn’t think of anything past my ponytail in his grip, the control he exerted so easily followed by such gentle consideration.
After my muscles were sufficiently jelly, Dev led me to the mats, circling me with narrowed eyes. His mouth twisted in a predatory smile, one that would’ve had my cheeks heating if they weren’t already flushed from the exercise. I pulled off my sweatshirt, revealing my sports bra and laughing internally as I recalled my reasoning behind the choice this morning.You don’t need to wear a nice bra; nobody’s going to see it.
