I cleared my throat and pointed over my shoulder toward the kitchen. “I like to make a cup of cocoa when I can’t sleep. Would you like some? Or maybe coffee or something?”
He followed me into the kitchen, but I found it strange that he barely made a sound as he did. Even in the heavy work boots he had on. Usually, the slightest movement caused an earthquake of sound in my place. Henry had woken me up more times than I could count whenever he would move around in the middle of the night.
“Let’s see.” I pulled open the overhead cupboards and pulled out two different types of cocoa powder. “Are you a dark chocolate kind of guy? Or do you prefer your cocoa to have a little milk in it?” I shook both packages a little for emphasis.
Chael’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Neither, actually.”
“You don’t like these brands?” I peered at both of the brands in my hand.
He shook his head, and a few strands of his hair that fell free from his braid landed around his shoulders. “I’m not a chocolate kind of guy.”
Henry whined from his position at the entryway.
“We’ve been through this,” I told Henry. “No chocolate for you.” I bit back the urge to say he could have some of his favorite unsweetened applesauce. He had, after all, stood guard by my side when those wolves or whatever they were, looked as if they wanted to eat me.
“Chocolate’s not for us,” Chael said as he walked over to Henry, bending low to pet him.
I noticed my pup bow his head again as Chael approached, almost as if paying deference to him. That was absurd. Henry wasn’t an aggressive dog, but he would stand his ground, and his sheer size intimidated most other dogs we came across, let alone humans.
But in the presence of Chael. Henry tucked his tail and sat awkwardly on his hind legs, positioning himself to put as little pressure as possible on his hips.
“He moves strangely.” Chael turned to face me from his squatted position in front of Henry, still petting him.
My heart smiled at the little purring sound Henry made, enjoying the attention.
With a nod, I said, “He has hip dysplasia.” I walked over to them and ran my fingers over Henry’s head. His eyelids lowered, and he made that high-pitch noise he made to tell me he loved the attention.
I chuckled.
“Poor guy was born with it. We think.”
“We?” Chael asked.
“The employees at the agency where I adopted him. He was a few months old when I got him. The agency wasn’t having any luck getting him adopted because his ailment was obvious, but as soon as I met him, we fell in love with one another.”
I leaned in and took Henry’s face into my hands and shook it. “Isn’t that right, baby? I’ve had him for a little over six months now. I’m saving up money for surgery since pet insurance won’t cover it and the rehab he’ll need afterward,” I explained to Chael.
Henry preened again and stuck his tongue out to give me kisses. I pivoted my head. “Ah, ah. What did I tell you about that? I love you, but no kisses on the mouth.”
I stood and went over to the stove. “Since you don’t want any hot chocolate, would you like some coffee? Or tea?” My breath caught in my throat when I peered over my shoulder, expecting to see Chael still by the doorway. Instead, he stood directly behind me.
Our bodies were mere inches apart.
“I’ll take a cup of coffee.”
I nodded and tried to swallow, but my throat had become as dry as the Texas desert.
“Thank you again for coming out,” I said while focusing on the task in front of me and not the man behind me. “I hope I didn’t pull you from anything important.”
I snuck a glance over my shoulder.
“You didn’t take me away from anything oranyoneof relevance.” He moved to the back door and reached for the knob, twisting it. When the door didn’t open, he nodded in approval before turning back to me.
Had he emphasized the word,anyone?Was he trying to tell me that he wasn’t married or attached? He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean a damn thing in today’s day and age.
I turned and leaned back against my counter and folded my arms across my chest. “Are you married?”
He lifted an eyebrow and held up his massive left hand, twisting it. “Not yet.”
