Did this guy ever let shit get to him?
He was just so goddamn cheerful. Always smiling. Always playfully flirting. Always so animated when he talked.
Even when I’d sensed he was nearing a panic attack, he came out of it like he’d just taken a jump on a trampoline. And somehow, he held the wonder and excitement of a kid when he broke down all the things wrong with the movie we were watching.
It was fucking annoying.
He was ruining my hibernation time. Ruining my movie enjoyment. And all night long, he fucking ruined my sleep with his tossing and turning on the leather couch that I’dveryrecently been made aware made so much fucking noise. I heard it over the crackling fire. Over the wind whipping around outside. Over my unwanted thoughts of him that wouldn’t quit.
Working on little sleep and knowing that I’d have to go back tothattonight certainly didn’t help my mood. Yeah, some would say I was grumpy on a good day, which meant I was downright ornery today.
I shook my head and focused on Wrangler’s bike. I still couldn’t believe he found this thing for so cheap. Someone was clearing out their parents’ home, and this was stuffed in the garage, hidden behind a “mountain of soggy boxes,” according to him. He said it was like one of those hoarder houses on that TV show. He paid less than three grand for it, and yeah, I was jealous. It didn’t run, but the body was in perfect condition. After I cleared the dust off it, I was amazed that I didn’t even find one scratch on it.
He was paying me pretty good to get it running again. I sure as hell was gonna take this baby out for a long test drive when I was done, and I was looking forward to it.
For lunch, I stayed put in the garage and grabbed a can of soup, heated it up on my iron wood burning stove. That thing was damn nice, and I didn’t regret the hassle of putting it in. It saved me from having to trudge my ass up to the cabin for lunch. Which meant I was extra grateful for it today since I wasavoiding all of my problems that were currently brightening up the space of my house. I kept a little mini pantry out here, sealed up tight, just in case any critters made their way in. Mostly cans of soup and some instant noodle packs. Shit that didn’t require a lot to make.
When late afternoon rolled around, I figured there was no more avoiding it. I had to go back to the house. My back was done, my hands were cramping, and my brain was exhausted from tryingnotto think.
I made the walk to the back of the cabin take twice as long. Like a kid draggin’ their ass to get to school ’cause they don’t wanna go. It was fuckin’ dumb and silly, but that didn’t stop me from doin’ it, or scowling when I got to the back door. I could see Danny through the windows. He was doing something in the kitchen. The fact that he was shirtless wasnotthe reason I hurried inside, kicking out of my boots, leaving them in a heap next to the back door without stomping the snow off, and practically tossing my coat at the rack, hoping it would catch on one of the hooks.
Oh, fuck. The moment I opened the door that led into the main part of the cabin, I was hit with a wave of heat.
Damn, that was nice.
I stopped short after I shut the door behind me. My eyes met Danny’s, and he sent me a bright smile, all teeth and blinding rays, like he’d been waiting for this moment all damn day.
Fuck if I knew what to do with that, so I scowled harder.
“Hi,” he said, the word full of cheer as if my grumpiness didn’t even affect him. “I know you said you’d be back later, but I didn’t know what kind of later you meant. I was getting hungry, so I started some dinner.”
He didn’t ask if it was okay, or even seem as if he was asking for permission after the fact. No, he just made himself at homein my kitchen. It was either nice or creepy, I couldn’t tell which yet. This situation had the potential to go smoothly, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having a temporary roommate… or turn out to be a stalker horror film.
Had I let a deranged psycho into my home?
I fucking hated horror movies. I never understood all the screaming and running away. Just aim and shoot. That was the kind of guy I was.
If Danny turned out to be a crazy killer, he was gonna go down quick, with a bullet hole between his pretty eyes.
“Um, are you okay?” he asked, and I had a feeling he’d been rambling on while I was lost in my head.
“Huh?” I grunted. “Fine.”
“So… ravioli? Is that okay?”
I blinked at him, positive now that I had missed a lot.
“Yeah, fine.” I wasn’t a huge fan of pasta, but since he went through the trouble of cooking, I figured the least I could do was not complain. “Wait, how did you make ravioli? I didn’t see any when I was unpacking your stuff.” And I know I didn’t have any hanging out in the freezer.
“Oh, I brought all the stuff to make them.”
“Make them, make them?” I raised a brow, surprised and a little impressed. “Like, from scratch?”
His laugh was surprisingly deep and loud, with a hint of nervousness in it. The sound had my normal brow raising to meet the other one.
“Well, yeah. I learned from my grandpa. He wasn’t Italian, but my grandma was. So to win her heart and her family over, he learned how to make pasta. Once he learned how, he never went back to the store-bought kind.” His smile was less bright, but it was still real. Like he was stuck in a happy memory.
I itched to ask more. To find out if he was close to his grandpa and if the man was still around. Maybe that wasthe reason he rented a cabin in the middle of the woods for Christmas, because he didn’t have anyone to spend it with.
