On his garage door.
“Nobody’s home!” he barked out… and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as the door opened regardless, and Nettie stood there, looking at him.
“If you aren’t home, then why are you answering?”
“Why are you here?”
“Why did you leave?”
“My part was done, and you didn’t need me there to hold your hand. You’re an adult.”
“We made a bargain.”
“What are you talking about?” he snarled, trying to run her off so they didn’t have to talk about the extravagant gift… only to see her roll her eyes as she pushed past him.
“Whatever, Cujo… get over yourself,” Nettie muttered, walking past him like she owned the place. He got a whiff of her perfume, breathing it in and trying not to react at the thrill of her aggressive behavior in his home was doing to him. “Hey Mulligan…” she crooned, walking past the couch, and the kitten hissed at her – making her laugh…as she kept going.
“Where are you going? Get out…” Tate began, panicking that she’d see the photo of them on his desk or that she’d spot something else that was personal.
“Oh my gosh, would you stop?” she retorted and sighed heavily, opening his fridge. “Seriously, do you even have any groceries or a different tone other than snarling?”
“I have groceries,” he snapped, marching toward her and shutting the refrigerator door. “And quit being nosy.”
“Quit being rude,” she shot back – and then sniffed, looking away. “Thank you for the car, Tate.”
And his lips parted at the unexpected about-face.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, jerking the door open once more despite his hand resting on the handle. “Move over.”
And he stepped to the side, completely taken aback and mesmerized. It was enough to see her in his house, to know she was within these walls, but to see her bossing him around, giving him sass back, and casually handling him like she wasn’t afraid of him, was everything.
“Do you like pasta?” she said, peering in his fridge and leaning over… and, being the man he was, he couldn’t help but lean to the side to admire the curve of her butt.
Oh man, he was gonna dream about that curve and those dimples at her hips. Why was she wearing leggings over here and not jeans? Those things ought to be outlawed in public when you have such a fine…
“Are you staring at my butt?”
“What?” Tate did a double-take as his eyes shot up and met hers.
“You are checking out my butt – aren’t you?”
“I thought it was your face,” he blurted out – and winced as he slapped his forehead at his sheer stupidity and quick attempt to cover himself because he’d been caught… and the unbelievable happened.
Nettie laughed.
He stared as she leaned toward him in a full-blown laugh that was utterly enchanting. She laughed hysterically for several seconds before shaking her head at him, still chuckling, and started pulling items out of the fridge – like this was an everyday thing between them.
Nobody came over.
He never invited anyone here – except his sister once to feed Mulligan. This was his home, his domain, and Nettie was taking over in so many, many ways he realized – and panicked.
Grabbing the container of tomatoes and spinach, he started to shove them back inside the fridge above her head as she leaned over to fish out a few potatoes from the crisper drawer… only to straighten up and smile at him.
Oh gosh— that smile.
“What are you doing?” she asked, smirking – and then put a finger on his chest, lowering her voice as she whispered to him breathlessly. “You said you wanted deeds, so here I am - performing a deed in exchange for the car…”
His breath hitched.
