My body immediately reacts, throbbing with need. My pants draw painfully tight.
Rather than have Hazel feel my arousal jabbing her in the belly only seconds after saying hello, I reluctantly release her and rearrange the bags so they’re hiding the obvious bulge below my waist. “Hey, Haze. How are you?”
“I’m good,” she replies. But the faint bluish smudges beneath her eyes tell a different story.
It’s a story that brings to mind Hazel spending another sleepless night haunted by nightmares—both of her traumatic experiences of less than a week ago and the one from three years prior. I’ve thought about it a lot over the last few days; how she must be struggling and wishing so badly I could make it better for her.
I wonder if she’d sleep better if I stayed over. Not in her bed, but on the couch. Close enough to hear her if she has a nightmare and be there to comfort her after. To sit on the couch watching ridiculous movies together until she’s lulled back to sleep.
“Alec, that seems like a lot just for dinner,” Hazeladds, her eyes widening at the bags in my hands. “Did you buy extra again?”
I walk through the doorway and close the door behind me, securing the three locks before turning back to her. “Just some dessert and something for lunch tomorrow. In case you don’t feel like cooking.”
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” she insists. “I can make a sandwich for lunch. Or a salad.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
Something I’ve noticed about Hazel is her reluctance to allow people to do things for her. At first, I didn’t understand where it came from. But now I get it. Or at least, I think I do. With the spectre of guilt from her roommate’s death hanging over her, I don’t think Hazel believes she’s worthy of help.
Which sucks. Because she’s more than worthy. And I’m determined to prove it to her.
Hazel blushes. “Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just remember, anything I do for you is because I want to. Not because I feel obligated. Like the blondies I picked up at Decadent Delights and the macaroni and cheese from The Laughing Goat.”
Her face brightens. “You got mac and cheese?”
“Didn’t you say it was one of your favorite comfort foods?”
“It is. But when did I tell you that?”
“A few months ago. I was at Blissful Brews with the guys, and there was a beer mac and cheese onspecial. You convinced me to order some and I remember you saying it was your favorite cold-weather comfort food.”
An unreadable emotion moves across her face. “Alec.”
“Come on.” Now that my erection has subsided, I shift the bags back to one arm. With my free hand, I touch Hazel’s lower back, guiding her over to the dining table. “Let me show you what I brought.”
I set my laptop case to the side and begin unpacking the bags as Hazel watches me with interest. “Oh, roast beef clubs,” she enthuses when I lift the carton lids to show her. “I love club sandwiches.”
I grin at her. “I know. And I got the duck fat fries to go with them. They’re not as healthy as the regular fries?—”
“Alec. No fries are healthy. That’s the point of them.” She grabs one of the fries and pops it into her mouth. “Oh. This isamazing.”
Desire surges again at the moan of pleasure she makes. And my mind wanders to an alternate reality where I hear Hazel’s sultry moan during other, sexier activities.
A little voice in my head asks,It doesn’t have to be an alternate reality, though, does it? It could be real, if you’d only take the risk.
“This all looks so good,” Hazel continues. “I’m going to get spoiled, Alec. Once I go back to living athome again, and I’m eating frozen microwave dinners…”
“Microwave dinners?”
Hazel’s smile fades. “It just seems silly to cook an actual meal just for me. And when I’m working the night shift, I get home late, so frozen dinners are just easier.”
I don’t like the mental image that follows. Hazel sitting alone in her living room after a long shift on her feet, eating her little microwave dinner when she deserves so much more.
Like a man who’d have dinner waiting for her when she gets home. Nothing microwaved, but home-cooked. Something with lots of nutrition to make up for the hours of activity she expended. And dessert, because another thing I’ve learned about Hazel is how much she enjoys sweets.
But I don’t want some faceless man making Hazel dinner.
