I jumped. I hadn’t heard him approach. Straightening, I smoothed down my skirt. “Yes, she does, though she pretends she doesn’t when Savannah’s around.”
Macgrath wasn’t looking at me, but into the living room where Satchel had vanished. I suppressed an eye roll and brushed past him into the kitchen. I was starving and there was a bowl of pasta with my name on it.
The large container of leftovers was already on the counter next to two pasta bowls and the sight made me grin. Macgrath was hungry as well, it seemed.
I began dishing up the pasta, putting a large pile in his bowl, and grabbed two forks out of the drawer. Then I realized I’d forgotten something. I moved to the fridge and grabbed a wedge of Parmesan cheese.
Macgrath came into the kitchen as I was grating it over the pasta.
His eyes widened at the small mountain of cheese I’d created in one bowl. “I don’t need that much cheese,” he commented.
“Good, because that one’s mine.”
He grinned at me and his eyes sparkled with genuine good humor. “Like cheese do you?”
I finished grating and put the cheese back in its bag. “Yes, cheese and I are in an adulterous relationship.”
His grin widened. “Adulterous relationship? Are you married?”
“Yes, coffee and I had a lovely ceremony several decades ago, but it’s important to spice things up from time to time.”
He laughed then and the sound was arresting. He seemed so happy and looked young and carefree. It caused my heart to skip a beat. That was the only way to describe it. My heart stuttered once in my chest, its normal rhythm interrupted by emotion.
I couldn’t speak. Instead I backed up to the counter and used my arms to boost myself up so that I sat on the smooth granite top. I reached for the pasta and dug my fork in, twirling it so the thin strands wrapped neatly around the tines.
“Did you get something to drink?”
Since I’d just shoveled a huge bite into my mouth, I merely shook my head as I chewed. His eyes twinkled at me and he walked over to where I sat. I nearly choked as he leaned over me, his arm reaching above my head.
Then he stepped away, a glass in his hand. I’d forgotten that I was sitting right in front of the shelf where Savannah kept her glasses and mugs. I managed to finish chewing the pasta and swallow as he carried the glass to the fridge and filled it up with water from the door. He didn’t bother with ice and brought the glass to me. I realized as he set it by my hip that he knew I didn’t like ice in my water because he’d spent so much time watching me.
At the very least, I should have thought that was creepy. Instead I found myself melting a little because it meant he paid attention. Then I gave myself a mental slap. He’d been stalking me for months. True, it was because he wanted to protect me, but he’d been watching me without my permission. It wasn’t charming, it was disturbing.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as he leaned back against the counter perpendicular to where I sat and picked up his bowl.
“That stalking is always creepy.”
He frowned at me as he twisted his fork in the spaghetti. “I wasn’t stalking you.”
I waggled my fork at him as I chewed another bite. When I swallowed, I said, “That’s semantics. You followed me everywhere I went and watched me from a distance, even though you knew I didn’t want you there.”
“But my motivation wasn’t obsession,” he argued.
He winced and glanced down at my hand. I followed his gaze and noticed the stone in the ring was no longer blue. It was black. He’d lied.
I lifted a brow at him. “So you’re obsessed with me?” I asked.
I wanted to laugh at the expression on his face. He looked chagrined and a little scared. I liked that. Any male who truly understood women had a healthy respect for pissed off females.
“I’m obsessed with keeping you safe,” he replied.
Pointedly, I glanced down at the ring, but the stone was once again glowing blue. Shit, he was telling the truth.
I decided to change the subject. “How is it that Rhiannon hasn’t found you yet?”
His face shut down. There was no other way to describe it. All expression, all humanity, vanished from his features. What remained was a remote, beautiful shell.
“I can’t tell you,” he stated, his voice monotone.
