With a sigh, I shut my truck off and head inside. Can’t stay out here forever as much as I’d like to.
“Hey, roomie!” Alex calls out from the kitchen. “How was your date?”
“Fine,” I grunt, hanging my keys up on the hook.
When I step further into the house, something feels off. I turn to face him, noting the way he’s leaning acrossmy counter. His shirt sleeves pull tight, making the muscles in his forearms stand out. His green eyes are brighter with his wide grin. He shouldn’t look this good in just a T-shirt with a grin. It’s unsettling. I can’t deny the years have done him well, though. All the ice time and hockey play has put him in better shape and I don’t think he’s ever looked hotter. It’s dangerous.
“See, and I thought it would take you longer to notice,” he says.
“What the fuck did you do now?” I ask, staring at my cabinets that are sanded down to the natural shade of wood.
“Preparing to paint,” he says.
I shake my head, then wave him off and walk to the couch to sit. He’s been doing shit like this since he showed up here. Changing all my lightbulbs to LED. Replacing the tile in my bathroom that I’d been meaning to do but hadn’t found the energy. Now the cabinets? I don’t get it. My kitchen was fine how it was.
“I promise it’ll look amazing when it’s done!” he says excitedly. “And it will raise the value.”
“Don’t care,” I say, grabbing the remote. “Did you do the exercises?”
“Yep,” he says, plopping down beside me.
The couch cushions shift and his arm brushes mine. I get the heaviest whiff of oranges and cinnamon with a hint of bourbon. I try not to notice how good he smells.Everything about Alex is noticeable and impossible to ignore—which is the damn problem.
“Even recorded myself doing them so you could watch.”
“Why the hell would I want to do that?” I gripe.
“So you know I did them, obviously.” He rolls his eyes.
“Alex, I don’t fucking care if you do them or not. It’s not for me; it’s for you.”
His smile falls and his gaze goes to his hands in his lap.
Puppy indeed.
Also confusing as hell. Sometimes he gets all giddy when I’m mean to him. Other times, his feelings get hurt. And when I’m nice, it’s like he’s bursting at the seams with excitement.
I have to say, though, he’s been well-behaved when it comes to the sexual stuff at least, and for that I am grateful. Because my dick has not been cooperating with me since he showed up, and I can’t be sure I’d turn him down if he came on to me, which is so fucking dangerous, it’s not even funny.
But that’s always been the problem with Alex. My body wants him in the worst way. He’s hot as hell, and knowing just how good his mouth feels or the sounds he makes forme,doesn’t help matters. The worst part is knowing he can get me off, something no one else can do…
And I know without a doubt, he wants me. He’s been more than upfront about that. I have wondered on a few occasions what he would do if I offered.
Would he be so willing? I’m sure he would. But also, could I use it to my benefit somehow?
Pretty sure I’m just trying to come up with excuses to make my dick happy, since nothing seems to do that but him.
Honestly, this whole thing with Alex is confusing. I have no idea why I care about his recovery so much. I am getting nothing out of this arrangement, other than annoyed.
He’s been doing shit around my house, he’s smiling all the time, he makes dinner, and he’s happy to see me when I get home.
It’s all fucking weird, and I don’t know how to feel about it. Some days I find myself wondering how long it’ll be until he’s gone. Other days, I get a tight feeling in my chest when I think about him leaving. But that’s the end goal, right? He’s not going to stay here forever. He belongs in PA. He’s got a whole fucking life there.
“So, who are we rooting for tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the cushions, pulling me from my thoughts.
I raise a brow. “What?”
“The game. I know you’re going to put it on. Oh! I have an idea. Let’s make wings and nachos. Fuck yes.”
