“I wanted one of those peanut butter and banana sandwiches you make for me, but can’t find the damn peanut butter.”
I stifled a grin at the hard grumble in his voice. I could picture his domestically helpless ass as he moved around my kitchen, ripping cupboards open, the refrigerator door hanging open.
Speaking of …
“That door of my refrigerator better not be open. Letting all of my food defrost.”
“That’s all you can think of right now? My stomach is over here touching my back, and you’re worried about the damn temperature of the food?” he grumbled.
My frown deepened as I rolled my eyes. “So fucking dramatic.” I left the man at least a week’s worth of frozen food that I cooked, and I hired a personal chef to drop off freshly prepared food for the second week I’d be gone. And that’s not to mention the stacks of takeout menus he had in his own kitchen, in the guesthouse where he stayed most of the time.
“How the hell did you run Townsend Security for almost three decades when you can’t even make yourself a damn meal?”
“Don’t get sharp with me. I did my job well. But cooking wasn’t in my damn job description.”
“Making a peanut butter sandwich isn’t cooking,” I not-so-kindly reminded him.
“If I need to be in the kitchen to do it, it’s cooking.”
My father loved my peanut butter and banana sandwiches, which I always toasted to add a little depth of flavor. My mother had prepared the same sandwich for me as a kid. Since my father wasn’t around for my childhood, I’d introduced him to the meal a few years back when he moved in with me, and since then, he bitched and moaned if he went without them for too long.
“Sweet Jesus.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Maybe I was wrong in worrying more about Townsend Security than my father. “Do I need to send Joseph over there to make you a sandwich?”
“Try it and I’ll kick your ass.”
At that, I let out a bark of laughter. It must’ve startled some people because a few stopped to look my way. That won them a scowl. I smiled inwardly when one man’s eyes doubled in size, and he hurried in the opposite direction, reminding me of one of those damn pesky squirrels who loved congregating in my backyard.
I knew the intimidating picture I presented. At six-eight, bulky as fuck, and with my often scowling face, I didn’t look like the guy you wanted to fuck with. Because I wasn’t. But even at my height and size, I knew how to blend in better than most.
Which was why, I supposed, that even as I stood off to the side of the airport’s walkway, directing my father to the particular cabinet where I kept the unopened peanut butter jar, someone walked right into me.
An involuntary grunt parted from my lips, accompanied by a scent of sweet-scented air. A woman. It was a woman who bumped into me.
On instinct, I reached for the woman who’d collided with my body. Though she’d been the one to walk into me, she caught the worst of it. My hold prevented her from toppling over entirely.
“Oh jeez, I’m so sorry,” she said in one long exhale. “Are you okay?” she asked in an apologetic tone. The woman brushed a hand down her jeans before standing up to peer up at me.
Our eyes caught, and I watched hers widen for the briefest of moments. Something in my chest shifted, but I didn’t have time to notice that. I was too busy taking in her soft brown eyes that looked as if they danced a little. Staring into her eyes stole the air from my lungs.
“Um, thank you, but I’m fine,” she said.
I blinked and shook my head. That was when I realized she was trying to pry her arm out of my hand. My hand that continued to needlessly hold onto her.
My eyes lingered on her full lips, noting the nervous smile that played on them.
You’re making her nervous,the voice of reason spoke up, and thankfully, I heeded it. But reluctantly. Slowly, I withdrew my hand from her body.
“I’m fine,” I told her.
“Good, good. I’m late for my flight,” she explained.
Professional instincts kicked in, and I wanted to tell her never to give a stranger so much information about herself, but I bit my tongue.
She exhaled, blinked, and moved around me. “Sorry, again.” She tossed me one final look over her shoulder before rushing off.
I had to force myself to remain where I stood. The desire to follow her almost overcame me.
“Are you still there? What the hell happened?”
