Another relieved smile. The “ooh” she made when she found my chocolate mint creamer went straight to my dick. I made it reverse direction. Nothing about my privates needed to pay attention to the sounds Summer made.
She topped her mug with creamer, making the coffee a light brown.
I grunted. “Little coffee with your creamer?”
She smirked. “Do you have whipped cream?”
“No.”
“Eh, well.” She inhaled over the top of her mug and took a drink. A small sigh left her. “This’ll do.”
“The roads are covered and the wind is strong enough to decrease visibility. The snow should stop soon, but the plows won’t be out in force until Monday.” The crews worked weekends, but they’d be clearing emergency routes and town roads. The route to my place was neither.
“You mind?”
“Wouldn’t matter if I did.” I didn’t mind, but at the same time, I wanted her gone.
Her stomach grumbled. She put her hand to her abdomen and took another drink. She cupped her mug in both hands and wandered back to the window. “I love the windows in the guest bedroom.”
I dropped my gaze from her, focusing on the swirling brown at the bottom of my cup. I used to adore that view too. I had built that room to be mine. Spacious, with a gorgeous overlook. Simple.
My room now was in the back of the house. The picture out the window was pretty, full of fir trees and the road that wound up the valley, but not like upstairs.
I waited for her to ask about food, but she never did. Unless she’d packed snacks in her suitcase, she hadn’t eaten since before I’d intervened between her and Boyd. “You hungry?”
“No.” Another long exhale. “My stomach disagrees, but I have no appetite.”
She had to eat. I couldn’t have her collapsing on me in the middle of nowhere. Then the wrath of her family would be aimed at me instead of her shitty ex.
I pulled out bacon and eggs. I was pulling a skillet out of the cupboard when she appeared next to me.
“Need help?” she asked.
Her sweet-strawberry-sunshine scent wafted over me. I’d smell her everywhere if she stayed in my house too long. “No.”
“Do you have any . . .”
I straightened from my bend, wincing at the pinch in my hip. I hadn’t done my stretches this morning. Or yesterday morning. This whole month had been shit for taking care of myself with that damn invitation staring at me. “Have any what?”
“Produce?”
“Bananas.”
She waited like she thought I’d rattle off a list. The tips of my ears burned. I had nothing else.
Her mouth quirked when I didn’t continue. “The banana’s fine.”
A spark of irritation heated the back of my neck. I didn’t have whipped cream or basic fruits and vegetables beyond a few bananas that were close to what Mom called thebanana bread stage.
I spun on a heel and pain laced up my leg. “Fuck.”
Summer got closer, her scent growing impossibly stronger. “What? What’s wrong?”
Embarrassment wiped out my restraint. “Goddammit, Summer. Back off a little, will ya?”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
Shame swamped me from head to toe. She meant well. My pain wasn’t her fault. I pressed my hands on the countertop and let my head hang. “It’s my leg.” And her. I was forgetting myself around her in the home where I could usually be myself. Where I didn’t have to pretend I was doing fine for the few people in my life who gave a fuck.
