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“No problem.” His closed lips curve into a smile that seems forced before he leaves the kitchen.
Bending over, I drop my head to my forearms on the counter with a soft groan. Maybe if I slip out while he’s in the shower he won’t notice until it’s too late.
Stop the nonsense. You’re too old to tuck tail and run. Besides, this is a business obligation I must fulfill.
And does it matter if he saw my horrible dancing?
Not really.
But it does to me.
And why do I care if he saw me fall over like an overloaded trash bag?
Because I like him.
He’s sexy and kind. Dammit, I need to get a grip and stop thinking about him in any capacity besides a professional one. I’m here to feed him, not fuck him—no matter how tempting the latter option is.
My come-to-Jesus self-talk serves as the kick in the rear I need, prompting me to jump back into preparing dinner. I’m assembling all the cooked ingredients in a large baking pan when he returns.
“Damn, that smells amazing. What are you making?”
My eyes flick to Ryder as he comes to stand beside me. His wet hair is slicked back from his forehead, emphasizing his angular features. And as far as I’m concerned, he smells better than anything I’m cooking.
“It’s pastitsio, which is basically Greek lasagna,” I explain.
He noisily smacks his lips together with anticipation. “How long until it’s ready?”
“It’s going in the oven for about a half an hour.” He makes a disgruntled sound and, pointing my finger, I direct him to a barstool. “Go sit down. I figured you’d be hungry when you came home, so I made you an appetizer to have while dinner cooks.” Removing the cover from the small container, I push it to the center of the island and he snatches it up like he hasn’t eaten in days.
“What is this?” he asks, then proceeds to take a bite before I can answer.
“It’s tiropitakia, which are mini feta cheese triangles wrapped in phyllo pastry.”
“Oh my God, it’s so good,” he says between chews. He can’t seem to eat them fast enough, which pleases me.
I occupy myself by moving the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher. I’ll start it up when I leave and unload everything when I return in the morning. I hear Ryder’s sigh of contentment followed by the scrape of his barstool sliding back on the floor. Seconds later, he appears at my side and loads the empty container and the cover onto the dishwasher’s top rack.
“You’re an angel,” he states. My gaze swings to his handsome face while my lips press together in a line of skepticism. “I was about to perish from hunger, and you saved my life.”
I snort. “I don’t think going five hours without eating can kill you.” Shutting the small door, I turn to face him.
“You don’t know how many calories it takes to fuel this body.” He runs his hand down his flat stomach, and estimating his calorie consumption is the last thing I’m thinking about. My brain is fully occupied imagining how chiseled his abs must be and what they’d feel like if I trailed my fingertips over them. He leans closer, and while I typically don’t like anyone in my personal space, especially when I’m cooking, that rule seems to be falling by the wayside right now.
What happened to remaining professional, Kastellanos?Maybe if I use my last name I’ll heed my own reminder.
Oh, yeah. Professional.
I raise my hand to his chest to keep some distance between us. Underneath his thin cotton t-shirt his heartbeat is strong against my palm. Just as I begin to draw back, his hand covers mine, halting my retreat. A kaleidoscope of butterflies comes alive in the depths of my stomach as I look at the spot where the two of us are joined. With his thick fingers wrapped around my hand, it’s impossible not to notice the contrasting qualities between them; large versus small, masculine versus feminine.
“Look at me,” he directs. My eyes leap up to his, as if they have a mind of their own, widening at the waiting intensity in his stare. “If you weren’t my friend’s sister, I’d already be kissing you. But I respect Darius too much to go against his wishes, so I’m going to be on my best behavior.” He gently removes my hand from his chest, then relinquishes his hold.
“My brother told you to stay away from me?” I ask. He hesitates as if he doesn’t want to give me a definitive answer, so I continue. “You already admitted as much. I’m merely waiting for confirmation. And just so you’re aware, he made it clear he didn’t want me anywhere near you either.”
He shrugs. “I can’t blame him for that. He’s doing what every brother should do for their sister.”
I roll my eyes. “Please don’t defend him to me. I’m a grown woman who certainly doesn’t need a protector any more than I need my brother meddling in my life. It’s not like I’m going to fall for you anyway. “
It hasn’t escaped my notice that only a minute ago, I was reminding myself of the importance of remaining professional and not crossing any lines. But now that Ryder’s saying the same thing, with my brother as the impetus for his decision, I’m suddenly annoyed.
