“Does he do that often?” she asked, crossing the lush carpet to sit on the edge of the comfiest bed she’d ever encountered. She spread her hands wide on the soft, thick comforter.
Van cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets. He shrugged. “Sometimes. When he’s had a bad week. Again, part of his story that he should be the one to tell, if and when he’s ready to.”
“Is it bad?” she whispered, her brows going up in worry.
Van sighed and lifted one corner of his mouth in a wry smile. “Not bad. He has next to no vices other than a taste for expensive bourbon and unlike myself, hasn’t smoked a day in his life.”
“You smoke?” she asked. She was learning a lot about him. Shocker.
He nodded ruefully. “A bad habit I picked up in high school and haven’t been able to kick.”
Hope kicked her legs, swinging them out in front of her where they dangled off the side of the bed. He had crossed the room to a large walk-in closet and flipped a light on inside. Disappearing for a minute, he came back with a neatly folded pile of clothes; a pair of navy-blue sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He handed them to her and she thanked him shyly, her face heating. “You know, maybe it’s because I binge watched Hell’s Kitchen... but I somehow expected you to be… I don’t know. Scarier. Meaner. Yellier.”
“Yellier?” he repeated, laughing out loud. “I don’t think that’s a word, Hope.”
She shrugged, grinning. “It fits the situation. I think it should stand. As a chef, I just assumed you’d be yellier.”
“I’ll allow it just because you’re cute,” he chuckled, reaching up with one hand and pulling at the collar of his shirt at the back of his neck, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion. Hope’s mouth dropped open. She’d forgotten just how ripped he was. Tall, thin, and lithe like a basketball player. And covered in tattoos from his wrists all the way up to his shoulders and across his back. “Believe it or not, we’re not all giant egotistical assholes who scream at our team all the time. I’m stern, but fair. I expect excellence from my team, but understand that mistakes happen. Myself included.” He glanced over at her and caught her staring and she blushed. “Stop staring at me like that, Hope. My willpower has its limits, little one.”
“I can’t help it,” she admitted breathlessly, raising her eyes from his naked torso to his heated emerald gaze. He stalked toward her, forcing her to sit straighter on the bed, before falling back onto her hands to catch herself as she leaned back. He braced his hands on the bed on either side of her hips and leaned in close, making her heart hammer in her chest. His mouth dragged over the corner of her mouth and then down, forcing her head to tilt back so he could plant kisses along her throat and across her collarbones. She was panting.
“You are going to be the death of me,” he breathed into her ear as he dragged his lips back up across her skin. She moaned involuntarily. “I’m going to have to build a goddamn pillow wall between us tonight.”
She laughed then at the anguish in his voice. He pecked a kiss to her mouth and then straightened. He pointed to a second door. “Bathroom is through there. Extra toothbrushes are in the bottom drawer of the vanity.”
“Do you have women guests often?” she asked as she stood, the words popping out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“Do you really want me to answer that, little one?” he asked gently.
She swallowed hard. “No,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I don’t want to hear about any other man before me, either, Hope. Don’t mistake the golden boy attitude for softness. I’m fiercely jealous and protective of what I consider mine.”
“And that’s what I am?” she asked, smiling despite herself. She wanted to kick her feet with glee. “Yours?”
Gathering her into his arms, he kissed her soundly. “We told you that in Chicago, Hope. You just didn’t believe us, then.”
“For being so jealous and possessive, you don’t seem to mind sharing me with Grant,” she murmured, looping her arms around his neck.
“It’s never been like this before, Hope, and I don’t say that lightly. We never—and I do mean never—share girlfriends. Hookups are one thing. Relationships are something else entirely. They’re emotional, messy, and someone always gets their feelings hurt.”
“So what’s so different about me?” she asked, shaking her head and staring up at him in wonder. “Why me?”
“I think we’ve both been asking ourselves that same question since Chicago,” he said softly, smoothing his hands down her back. His chest was still bare, pressed against her front. “Something just…clicked, I guess. We haven’t really talked about it between us…but I know he feels the same. That’s why he’s so ornery now that you’re here. Because now it’s not some fantasy, some crazy what-if… you’re here, you’re real, and that scares the shit out of him.”
She nodded slowly, processing what he’d said, when one hand slapped her ass cheek lightly and she gasped, laughing. “Hey!”
“Go change,” he laughed, winking. “I’ll be here waiting for you, Hope.”
“Promise?” she asked, her voice wavering lightly. Memories assailed her.
“Promise,” he whispered.
Chapter Thirteen
She was gone.
He knew it before his eyes even opened.
