"Like I said," I started, busying myself with the files in my bag to keep from drooling, "I'm Tom. We've met before. I work for Shannon and I'm dropping off some documents for her." I slapped a purple file folder on the counter. "No need to brandish any weapons on my account, sweet pea."
"Then it's a good thing I don't have any others," he replied, tipping his chin toward the arm encased in a brace. "I should probably start hiding some in here."
In spite of myself, I barked out a laugh. "What is it with you Halsteds and arming yourselves to the teeth? Last I heard, your brother was working on a trebuchet."
"It's the in-depth knowledge of the evil lurking beyond the peace and quiet of this happy suburban town."
His words were easy, almost matter-of-fact, but there was nothing easy about the hard glint in his eyes. And those eyes, they shone like an endless night. Deep enough that I almost fell in and drowned as we stared at each other.
I blinked away, cleared my throat. "Right, well, I need to be in Marshfield before two and—"
"Will you come back?" he asked.
"What?" I laughed to cover my surprise.
"What?" he repeated, his brows quirking. He looked sad. Oh my god, if he didn't knock that off immediately, I was going to papa bear all over his ass. "I just meant, I don't know, I thought you might be coming back and—"
"I mean, maybe? I don't really—"
"No, yeah. It's fine. No worries," he said, shaking his head as we talked over each other. "I just thought you'd—you know, maybe—you'd come back. Here. Again. For Shannon…or something else."
"I can," I said before my attention-starved mouth could consult my no-nonsense brain. "I can come back. Later? Tonight?"
What the hell was wrong with me? What the actual hell was wrong with me?
"Yeah?" A grin pulled at his lips and my belly flipped all the way over. That hadn't happened since I'd tried intermittent fasting last summer. Horrible experience. Then he had the audacity to continue speaking after flooring me with that smile. "Would I be pushing my luck if I asked you to bring some sushi with you?"
"Yes," I replied flatly. "It's broccolini and salmon for me tonight."
Wes cocked his head to the side and rubbed his hand down his abs. Down the thick trail of blond hair and under his waistband. It took real strength to keep from reaching out and petting him. I knew if I did, I'd call him a good boy while I did it and we could not have that. Not at all. And it was bad manners to pet men without their permission.
"You're sure about that?" He tucked his thumb behind his waistband, tugging his jeans down just enough to expose paler skin and muscled grooves and dusky hair that made me stupid. Just fucking stupid.
With a sigh, I asked, "What do you want?"
"I'm sure I'll be happy with anything you give me," he drawled.
"Oh my god, stop it," I snapped, holding up my palm at him.
"Stop what?" he asked, all sweet and innocent.
"You know," I warned, jabbing a finger in his direction. "You know what you're doing."
Those jeans slipped down another quarter of an inch. "Is it working?"
More than it should."No. Now, either give me your sushi order or you're getting a plateful of California rolls with fake crab."
He dragged his gaze over me, my suit, my wingtips. Then back up. "Let's get a few things straight, honey. First, you don't eat anywhere that serves imitation crab. Just not happening. Second, I would be happy with anything you bring me and that's no exaggeration. In case you haven't noticed, I'm fucking helpless right now. I can't go anywhere or do anything. I haven't been out of this house since I was dropped at the curb last month and I haven't been with family in much longer.Yearslonger. I don't care what you're feeding me. I'll take it."
He wasn't referring tofamilyfamily. He was surrounded by that. It was a different form of family he needed now. That knowledge, more than anything—chest hair and stupid muscles included—softened me for this man. I knew isolation. I knew loneliness. I didn't wish that on him.
"Fine but get a shirt," I replied. "It's too damn cold to be walking around like that."
"This is mild compared to where I've been." Wes rasped out a laugh, one that started in his belly and moved all the way up to his full lips. I knew this because I watched his muscles bunch and jostle as he did it. And I damn near swooned. Wrist to the forehead, breathy sigh, buckling knees swoon. I crossed my arms over my chest, a feeble attempt at keeping myself upright.
"Get a shirt," I repeated.
"I'll try." He ran his hand over his fuzzy chest, a smile warming his eyes. "Can't make you any promises."
