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“Lie down,” Wilder said to me, taking the pillow from the twin bed and placing it at the end of the sofa.
I didn’t argue.The room was spinning now.I closed my eyes, trying to focus on my breathing.A blanket covered me, and I opened my eyes to see Wilder standing over me.Our gazes locked, and my stomach felt funny.Something was different.
“You did good,” he said softly.It had been so long since he’d spoken to me in a tone like that, and I didn’t know what to think.“Close your eyes.Sleep.Rest.I’ll be here.You’re safe.”
I did as he’d said, and the exhaustion from the day took over.
When my eyes opened again, they were treated to the view of a muscular, naked back, dark and damp hair, and a narrow waist before the rest of Wilder was hidden behind the counter.The smell of melted cheese and butter filled the air, and I realized he was cooking.Shirtless.He’d had a shower.Was he just wearing a towel?And was this going to happen a lot?Because I might not ever want to leave.
Feeling as if I should slap myself, but unable to move, I blinked, and thankfully, he was still there.Cooking.Flipping something with a spatula.Dear God, was that meant to be sexy?Because it was.The way his back flexed with each shift of his body.The blanket he’d put over me was getting too hot.I needed air.But if he knew I was awake, this peep show would end.Decisions.
Wilder turned then, and his gaze locked on mine.Dang.I’d been caught.I yawned and tossed the covers back before sitting up.Maybe he wouldn’t think I’d been silently ogling him.Doubtful.That was, if he had looked in a mirror lately.
“Do you feel better?”he asked with real concern in his tone.
This day could not get any weirder.Wilder worried about me was almost as out there as the fact that the guy I had been dating had put a bomb in my car.
Right.A bomb.In my car.
I was back.Focused on the issue at hand.Not a half-naked Wilder.
“Yeah.My head isn’t hurting now,” I replied, trying not to look at his chest.But I swore there was a tattoo on his left rib cage.I wanted to check it out.See what it was.Ask him when he had gotten it.
“I made some grilled cheese.Want one?”he asked.“You need to eat.”
I needed a distraction.I stood up and walked toward the kitchen side of the cave we were in.
“Yes, please,” I replied.
He nodded, still watching me as if I was about to pass out at any minute and he might need to run and catch me.The only lightheadedness we might need to worry about here was the hot, shirtless man teasing me with a view.One I hadn’t seen but once, and that had been nine years ago.That view had gotten more well defined with thicker, corded arms and a freaking tattoo I wanted to stare at but couldn’t without being caught.
“What about something to drink?We have water, soda, and beer,” he offered.
“Water is good, but I can get it,” I said, walking around the counter to see he was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.
Sweet Jesus, I had to be sleeping.This was not real.There was no way this man was walking around shirtless in gray sweatpants.
“I was hot, after the shower,” he said.
My eyes snapped back up to his face.Oops.
“Oh,” I muttered, not sure what to say to that as my face heated from the fact that he’d seen me checking him out.I cleared my throat.“I wasn’t complaining,” I added, then flashed him a smile before opening the fridge to get out a bottle of fancy water.
Holding it up, I looked at him.“This looks pricey.”
He shrugged, and his broad shoulders drew me in.“The Shephards.You know how they are …”
The way his voice trailed off at that last bit made me assume he was referring to Sebastian and me dating for a while.No need to be awkward about it.He’d married my stepsister.I had only dated his friend’s younger brother … wait.
“Sebastian.He’s … one of you,” I said slowly as I let it sink in.I’d dated him seriously.He’d gotten on one knee and asked me to marry him.And had assured me that all those things people had said about their families were rumors.
“Yeah, he is.I was surprised when Thatch said Sebastian hadn’t told you.Since he had proposed.I guess I kind of thought you knew and just never talked about it.”
One would think.Getting angry with a guy who had asked me to marry him and not told me he was in the Mafia was pointless.I’d turned him down, and it had been years ago.But I was still slightly miffed.
“I suggest that when you propose to a woman again, you mention this to her.The Mafia thing.She should know.”
He turned back to the grilled cheese.“Sylvia knew.I told her before we got married.”
