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He caught her arm, pulling her to him, wrapping his free hand around her waist. The position put her squarely in his arms, letting him inhale the lovely scent of vanilla. Her shampoo? Perfume? Or remnants from the cafe? He wasn’t sure and he honestly didn’t care. The smell was divine and made him ache to pull her even closer until his lips connected with hers.
But the tremble that touched her body had him releasing her instead. He needed to stop terrifying the woman. Why did it keep happening to him?
“I’m sorry. Again.” A small grin touched his lips, hoping to dispel the fright still lingering in her eyes.
“I brought pie.”
Their eyes glided to the gooey mess coating the grass near his porch steps.
“I bet it was delicious.”
She laughed, making him relax. She wasn’t angry with him.
“How does lasagna sound?” He gestured with his arms for her to enter. “I have Oreos for dessert in lieu of the pie.”
“As long as you have milk so I can dunk them.”
“Full gallon purchased today.”
The tentative smile that splayed across her lips made the rest of the anxiety coursing through his skin disappear. She stepped by him and inside the house, sighing.
“Was that a good sigh or a bad one?”
She looked appalled that he heard her at all. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” he asked, closing the door before she could escape.
He’d told himself for the past three days to forget about her. Let the mystery surrounding her be that—a mystery. He didn’t need to solve every puzzle that landed in front of him. Of course, chatting with Juliet every night didn’t help him, especially when she couldn’t stop talking his ear off about Eve this and Eve that. It also hadn’t helped that he’d seen her in her bedroom two nights in a row, changing for bed. The curtains she had purchased were a joke. They did nothing to hide the fact she had a body he wanted to touch from head to toe. His hands on her backside. His lips caressing her taut nipples. His cock—not thoughts he should be thinking at the moment.
Despite the many warnings to himself to leave her alone, he couldn’t do it. He saw her in the store looking at bed frames and had to speak to her. Say hi. Somehow, the invite came out, and now here he stood wanting to push her against his foyer wall and kiss her until she begged him not to stop.
“Umm…for…I’m not sure I should be here.”
He had to tread carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten her so much she never spoke to him again. He could control his libido. He could keep his hands to himself. It didn’t mean he wanted to, but he could.
She didn’t need a man shoving his way into her life. What she needed was a friend. So that’s what he’d give her. As long as he stopped scaring her to the point she tripped and having to catch her, he shouldn’t have a problem keeping his hands to himself.
“I can show you the shed, and you can take a look at the things inside. While you do, I’ll make your plate to-go. It’s okay if you’d rather skip the meal.” Then he waved a hand for her to follow.
He heard her steps behind him, so didn’t bother to turn around. The click of unlocking the lock was the only sound that perforated the air around them. Then the creaking of the door as he swung it open. He stepped back to give her space.
“Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
She walked inside the shed.
“I was only trying to be friendly. Nothing else. You’re safe here, Eve. In this town.”
When she didn’t turn around or acknowledge him, he headed back inside to prepare her food. It was better this way. As he had told himself earlier, the house next to him was cursed. The residents never lasted long, and putting his heart out there for her to stomp all over it wasn’t wise.
He’d had it crushed once before, and that was one time too many.
Half the lasagna went into a container for her to take home, while the other half he shoved into his fridge. He’d eat later. If his appetite came back. How had the night turned so sour so fast?
Because he nearly knocked her down again? Because she didn’t like the look of his house?
He had a small house. Two bedrooms, one bath. No Christmas paraphernalia anywhere inside, though he had lights hanging off his gutters and a Santa on his front porch. Tourists loved to see that. But inside his domain, he didn’t need the holiday cheer shoved in his face. He had it everywhere else in town to keep him merry.
Twenty minutes went by before she knocked on his sliding door. He gestured her in, putting the last dish in the dishwasher.
