“I have to go, honey,” she said next. “Talk to Ethan. I’m gonna set the table. Our lasagna is almost done.”
Great, now I was jealous. I wanted lasagna too. Mine, though. Not hers. Despite being raised on Southern cooking, her lasagna was all zucchini and other vegetables. Which was fine on any other day, but not when I was getting sick.
“All right. Talk soon, love you.”
“Love you too, doll!” She ended the call.
I let out a long sigh and rubbed at my eyes.
Why had I come here tonight? I’d known from the first ten minutes of shopping with Isla today that something was up. I’d slept poorly, I’d been tired most of the day, I hadn’t been able to concentrate through work calls, and I’d craved comfort food from Panera.
“Natalie?”
“Holy fucking crap.” I gasped and sat up straight. I heard it was Ethan, but Jesus Christ, text first! “Ethan?”
He appeared between the counters in the shop and walked closer, holding a takeout bag.
He paused in the doorway and wrinkled his forehead. “Didn’t life in New York teach you to close and lock the door?”
Oh shit. I’d forgotten to close it. The shop still smelled like paint…
Fuck me, he was hot. It was difficult to focus on much of anything other than him.
If I didn’t know any better, part of the changes he was going through included becoming comfortable with his age, and that was just so damn sexy.
“I’m trying to air out the paint smell,” I said. “What’re you doing here?”
“I was on my way home for the night.” He leaned against the doorway, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I thought you were just playing hooky when I saw you were working.”
Oh. I chuckled. “I wish.”
“Yeah, you look…”
I raised a brow.
He smirked. “You look like you’re enjoying that blanket a whole lot.”
I snorted softly. I bet I looked like a train wreck. Almost no makeup, hair up in a messy bun, leggings, a too-big button-down with paint on it, and whatever virus was currently taking up residence in me.
“I promise you, if I need a day off the exercise regime, I’ll tell you.” I’d done it before. “I don’t want to get you sick, though, so you might wanna keep your distance.”
He cocked his head and observed me. “What’re we talking here—Ebola or the sniffles?”
Damn him, he always knew how to make me laugh.
“I don’t know yet. It’s just been an off day. Headaches, sensitivity… I’ve missed my bed since lunch.”
He nodded once. “Probably not Ebola, then.”
I grinned.
“Well… Have you eaten?”
I squinted. “Um, I had an egg white omelet with spinach and chicken for my first meal,” I said. “Then I had a bagel when I dragged my butt out to shop with Isla—you know her?”
He inclined his head, his sexy greenish-blue eyes taking on some mirth. “I went to school with her man.”
Right. They probably all knew each other around here.
