AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I didn’t expect to find you like that.” The deep lines returned to his forehead, and his hand rested on her knee. Maybe an unconscious move to him but still suggestive enough to send warm tingles up her body. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She offered a soft smile to compensate for his worry. Searing attraction aside, she didn’t like being his cause for concern. Besides, they were stuck together now, and he really had done an amazing job looking after her. She couldn’t imagine any other person being quite so attentive, not that she’d had a whole lot of attentive people in her life to compare him to. Still, she might as well try to get along with him.
“Will the soup be much longer?” She made a show of tracking her gaze over his torso. “You could do with a decent feed. You’re looking skinnier these days.”
He threw his head back and laughed, the rich rumble an inviting sound. He’d grown a great deal taller and broader since their days together, though any softness of youth had faded in favor of harder planes. Country life had been outright good to him, and his laugh indicated even he knew that.
The peridot in his eyes continued to glint. “Just like you’ve gotten a whole lot more agreeable?”
She scoffed, maintaining eye contact. “Agreeable hasn’t served me all that well.”
His lips parted like he wanted to ask her something, to explain further maybe, but explaining meant talking about Anthony, and she didn’t want to do that. She looked away, her voice dipping. “Let’s just leave it at trouble follows me, okay?”
He pushed a loose curl from her face, the shock of such tenderness forcing her gaze back to him. “I don’t mind your brand of trouble, Emilia. And I like your new sass.”
It was her turn to lose her speech, which unfortunately gave Blaine time to rise from the couch. “I’ll get that food for us and be right back.”
A childish part of her didn’t want him to leave, to cling to him like a toddler would a parent. But she lay useless and eyeing his breathtaking silhouette as he walked away, soon resorting to staring at the ceiling and its unexciting white plaster that echoed his absence.
Her father had been a provider, not a nurturer. Anthony was neither. She couldn’t recall a time he’d even so much as offered her a glass of water. While Blaine had pulled her unconscious from a storm, been discreet in helping her into the shower, got her medical care, built a fire, and cooked.
Each kindness pushed him deeper under her skin, just like in the past. He forced her to care and prodded emotions she hadn’t touched in years.
She gnawed on her lower lip, certain she couldn’t let his kindness extend past tonight. She definitely couldn’t let him get too settled in her world, even if a huge part of her very much wanted him to.
Creating space for him would be a cop-out. She’d done helpless and hopeless. Never again. Now was the time for getting on with her life alone.
The measured thud of his footsteps filled the room, and he walked in holding a tray with two steaming bowls balanced on top. “Sorry, I’m not much of a cook, but I gave it my best shot. Do you want help sitting up?”
He lowered the tray onto the small table he’d procured from the kitchen, a half-smile twisting at his lips. She held a hand to him. “Yes, I could do with some help here. And let me be the judge of your cooking.”
He stepped closer, his face lowered way too close to hers. His hands clasped under her armpits, palms pressing into the sides of her ribcage until she sat on the couch’s edge. She tried to ignore the stall of her breath and the heat rushing her skin.
His gaze lingered on her, but he took a step back; she cleared her throat, focusing on the food. “This looks good.”
He smiled, pushing the table so it stood within reaching distance from her. “The proof is in the tasting, right?”
He sat perpendicular to her, ignorant of her galloping pulse. From the corner of her eye, he soon tucked into his meal, lifting spoonfuls of soup to his mouth, though the metal spoon itself was small compared to his large, work-worn hands. And those hands brought back memories…
“Eat.” His stare bore into her, forehead knotted in a question.
She jolted, only now realizing she’d slipped into full-on gawking at him.
She curled her fingers around her spoon, those fingers burning to reach out and touch him.
Bad idea. Bad idea. What is wrong with me?
She peered down and shuddered at his other hand resting on the table, long fingers curved into a relaxed sort of fist. That hand sat not too far from hers. Moments passed, and she managed to eat some food while he occasionally peered over, probably making sure she ate.
Her hand began to shake, so she put down the spoon, her mind muddled with the rising heat of rebellious desire.
“Emilia?” He took hold of her elbow, the one with the spoon in it.
“I’m okay.” She nudged his hand away. “Don’t worry.”
“You don’t look well.”
She barked out a manic kind of laugh. He shuffled closer, stirring her discomfort. Another coal burst in the fire, and she flinched. With that, her nerves reached the limit of what they would take.
