“Hi! Yes, everything is fine. I wanted to say thank you for the number of that lawyer. I’m going to have lunch with her tomorrow. And to thank you for everything you’ve done, helping me yesterday and with this, I’m saying thank you by cooking you dinner tonight!”
“Snow, you don’t have to?—”
“I insist! See you when you get home!”
Home.
Oddly, it doesn’t bother me that she cut me off or that she called my place home.
If my lawyer friend of a friend can help her get her money back, then that’ll be amazing.
Everything she told me sounds so overwhelming, and I can’t quite understand how she’s keeping herself together, so helping her feels like second nature.
But it’s not just that.
She’s beautiful.
Her teasing last night almost killed me and my shoulders still ache from how hard I was holding myself back.
Depending on how her results come back, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold myself back, and it truly gets put to the test when, six hours later, I let myself into my apartment to the greeting meows of my cats, a mouthwatering scent of curry, and a stunning sight.
Snow, sitting naked on my kitchen counter with a teasing, knowing smile on her face. “Surprise!”
13
SNOW
“Snow?”
“Mhm?” My heart races as my mind floods with countless ways this could go wrong.
Maybe last night was a fluke.
A one-off.
Maybe he regrets it and I’ve overstepped.
Maybe he’s had a terrible day and this is the last thing he wants to see.
Maybe he’s about to tell me that he got my results back and something terrible has happened.
Hell, maybe last night was just a dream and I’m about to make a gigantic fool of myself.
I stare up at him with wide eyes as those thoughts send cold spirals down my spine and my gut tightens slightly, waiting for him to speak.
He sets his briefcase on the island counter behind him and turns to face me, his eyes slowly moving down my body. “Is this my dinner? A beautiful meal I can’t taste?”
Oh, thank God.
“Your dinner’s over there.” I nod toward two pots simmering on low heat on the stove. “And will be ready in about forty minutes.”
“Forty minutes,” Xander repeats, grasping the knot of his tie and very slowly loosening it as he walks closer to me. “And for those forty minutes… dinner and a show?”
He passes by so close that my skin jumps in anticipation of a touch that doesn’t come. I breathe in and briefly close my eyes as his scent of soap and coffee briefly overrides the spices of the curry.
“Something like that,” I murmur. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day and without work to distract me, all I could do was organize a meeting with the lawyer at lunch tomorrow, call my friends who were all working and couldn’t talk, and think about last night.”
“Last night?” Xander leans over the pots and examines the curry, stirring it slowly with a spoon and then looking back at me. “What happened last night?”
