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My lungs expand, fighting against the tightness in my throat, and I watch her head move with the rise of my chest. Looking down on the top of her head, I imagine this is the same view I’d have if she fell asleep sprawled across my chest.
I squeeze her tighter.
“Mmm,” her sound of satisfaction rolls from her body and into mine. “You’re a good hugger.”
A smile cracks across my face, “There’s another first. Next, you’ll tell me I’m pretty.”
Maddie snickers, then tips her head back to look up at me. The shake of her head is slow. “No. You’re too handsome to be pretty.”
My smile slips. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
Her head tilts to the side, “You hungry?”
“Uh.”Did she just ask if I’m hungry?“What?”
She nods once, as if I answered her question instead of asking my own. “I’m gonna make a sandwich.”
Chapter8
Axel
If I were a smart man,this is when I’d leave.
I’d bid her goodnight, turn around and walk back out the front door.
But I’m not a smart man.
After unceremoniously breaking our hug – like she hadn’t just swung a sledgehammer at the walls around my heart – Maddie turned and walked down the short hallway towards the back of the house.
I kick off my shoes and start to follow, but my eyes snag on the small purse she set on the little table by the door.
I shouldn’t.
I take half a step then pause.
Feeling like a total fucking creep, I grab her purse.
I need to know.
Quick as I can, I open the zipper and dig around until I find her driver’s license. Maddison Faye Richards.
Maddison. Cute.
Finding her birthday, I do the math and confirm she’s 31. Still too young for me by far, but at least she’s not in her 20’s. And she’s more than a decade older than my kid.
Relieved, I place the bag back where it was and stride down the hall after Maddie.
The first door I pass is indeed a home office. The next door – also open – shows a spacious bathroom, lit by a small nightlight.
There’s one final door, that must be her bedroom, just as the hallway opens into the great room.
Maddie fiddles with something on the wall, and the chandelier over the kitchen island – that divides the kitchen from the living room – illuminates with a soft glow.
The home isn’t overly large for one person, but it’s bright and comfortable. And the colorful furniture mixed with the dramatic art covering the walls feels like Maddie. The whole place feels like Maddie. And having just met her, I have no right to say that.
There’s a set of sliding glass doors along the back wall leading to some sort of patio or backyard, but the nighttime darkness outside turns the clear panes into a mirror, reflecting the scene inside back at us. And watching the reflection, I can see Maddie behind me, opening her cupboards to retrieve dishes.
I turn back to face the beautiful woman in the room with me as she sets plates onto the stone countertop. “Can I help?”
