I let my forehead fall against the cool black surface of the fridge.
WasI actually insane? Why the hell had I invited Parker into my house? Why had I insisted that he stay? For fuckingdays.During ablizzard. I had to be mental to think I could handle this without one of us killing the other or the two of us fucking.
I kinda wasn’t sure which would be worse.
So I did what I usually did when I was stressed. I pulled out chicken, put a pot of water on to boil, and started cooking.
Parker padded back to the kitchen a few minutes later. If not for the fact that I’d gotten really used to living alone, I might not have heard him. He wore socks on his feet and carried himself like he belonged here. But because I wasn’t used toanynoise anymore, I turned away from the stove and stared at him like he was another one of my ghosts.
He was wearing green and red flannel pajama pants and an oversized red and white BU hoodie, complete with a bulldog. His hair was wet and neatly combed, his cheeks were pink, and there was this sweet, hopeful expression in his green eyes that made him look younger and more innocent than he ever had even when wewereyoung and innocent.
I cleared my throat and turned back to the stove. “Making chicken scampi,” I said. “Chicken’s nearly done. Just waiting for the water to boil.”
Parker stepped closer and peered over my arm. “Looks good,” he said. “Smells even better.”
My gut clenched. My cock stirred. I didn’t know if it was the words he’d said or the damp, delicious, fresh-scrubbed scent of him as he leaned into me that did it, but I had to grasp the wooden spoon tightly to stop myself from touching him.
Down boy. He’s complimenting your chicken, not offering to suck your cock.
And I wouldn’t want him to, even if he was, I tried to convince myself.Nothing has changed.
Except as I inhaled a deep breath and tried to calm down, I realized what I was smelling.Mybody wash. On Parker’s skin.Thatwas a change. And now that there was so little distance between us, I suddenly—shocker!—cravednodistance. It was fucking terrifying. It was also why I’d avoided having Parker within arm’s length for months.
The first time he’d left, it had killed me, but I’d had my dad to take care of. I’d put one foot in front of the other, gotten out of bed in the morning because I had to, gone to work because someone needed to keep the electricity on. If the same shit happened again…
But it wouldn’t. It would not.
I stepped away from the stove, away from him, and leaned against the sink.
“So, um. You managed to figure out the shower? It’s a little tricky with the diverter, and I forgot to mention—”
Parker smiled. “Not my first rodeo, cowboy.”
“Right.” I went to fold my arms over my chest and realized I was still holding my spoon like it would fend Parker off. I set it on the little spoon rest by the stove. “That’s good. You look better.”
Parker’s eyes followed the motion of my hand and he studied the spoon rest—a wooden thing I’d made years ago in shop class—with a small smile playing across his lips. Then he looked down at his socks and stuck both his hands in the front pocket of his sweatshirt.
“Yeah. Yeah, I feel way better. My clothes were dry too, by some miracle.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
He glanced up. “Uh, because my suitcase was riding in the back of your truck. In the blizzard.Duh.”
“I covered it with a tarp, Parks.”
He blinked at me.
“I keep one back there,” I explained. “Just in case.”
“Oh.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “That was… nice. Thoughtful.”
I snorted. “That’s me alright.”
“Considering you were about to make off with my most precious belongings at the time—”
“Please,” I scoffed. “What would I want with your plants and your memories of Boston?”
Parker opened his mouth like he was going to argue, then he shut it and shook his head. “Go shower, Jamie.”
