Guilt pools in my stomach, but I haven’t done anything wrong. People are late all the time. “Seth...”
“Did yesterday scare you?” His voice drops lower, and suddenly he's closer, crowding into my space with his heat and his amazing scent. “Because it doesn’t scare me. I’m a man who knows what he wants and goes after it.”
My throat feels tight. I force myself to look up at him, at those intense blue eyes that see too much. “Yesterday was...”
“Yesterday was what?” He cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek, and the gentleness of it after his worry makes my eyes sting. “Tell me.”
“I'm not the kind of girl guys like you keep around.” The words tumble out in a rush. “I clean houses, Seth. I didn't even finish college. You're brilliant and successful and you could have anyone, and I'm just...”
“Guys like me?” His voice is sharp now, almost furious. “You think I make a habit of this? Of falling for women I don't care about?”
My heart practically takes flight at that, but yet worry squashes it down. “I don't know! I don't know anything except that you're way out of my league and in a few weeks you'll be gone and...”
He kisses me. Hard and possessive, swallowing whatever else I was going to say. When he pulls back, I'm breathless.
“I don't have patience for drama,” he says quietly, his forehead resting against mine. “I never have. That's why I've been alone. Most people want games, and I can't stand them. But you...” His thumb traces my lower lip. “You're genuine, Jennifer. You’re real. No ulterior motives and no manipulation. You are just you.”
I want to believe him so badly it hurts.
He must see the doubt in my eyes because he steps back, and something shifts in his expression. Becomes calculating in a way that should probably scare me but doesn't.
“Okay.” He nods once, decisively. “You don't believe me yet. That's fine. You will.”
“Seth...”
He holds up a hand. “Let’s have breakfast before we go for our walk today.”
“Okay,” I whisper and slip past him to head into the kitchen.
Once there I start pulling out ingredients for omelets, trying to focus on the familiar task instead of the way he's watching me.
Because he is watching me. I can feel his eyes on me as he settles onto a stool at the island, seemingly content for me to do the cooking today instead of it being a shared activity.
“What’s your favorite book?” he asks completely out of the blue.
“I don't really have time to read much anymore.” I pour the eggs into the pan, grateful for something to do with my hands. “Though I do occasionally listen to audiobooks.”
“What do you listen to?”
I squirm and mutter under my breath, “Romance.”
He grins. “Why, Jennifer, you naughty girl.”
Heat flares in me at his teasing tone.
“What about you?”
“I was more of a science fiction kid myself. Asimov and Clarke.”
Of course he was. I sneak a glance at him and find him smiling slightly, and it transforms his face. For a moment I can see the young boy he once was, reading and dreaming about the future. I wonder if he ever saw himself here or if his future looked different from the one he ended up with.
I know once upon a time I thought my life would be vastly different. Back when my father was still alive and my mother had those big Sunday dinners that she loved cooking for. Then Dad died, and things changed. Maybe I didn’t change, but my future stopped looking so bright.
Forcing those grim memories away, I try to keep the conversation flowing and off serious subjects, like how in the world a man like Seth claims he could be falling for me.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue. Like the ocean.”
