I checked my phone both for the time and to see if Carson had an update on my car. When he’d called earlier this afternoon to ask what my budget was and tell me he’d found some other things that needed to be fixed, my heart sank. I fully expected him to tell me it was time to say goodbye to the first big purchase I’d made as an adult. Luckily, he’d assured me it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed, but they were repairs that would make him feel more comfortable with me driving once they were done.
The bad news was I was looking at least a few more days without my car. I should have paid more attention before things got to this point.
I’m heading over in about 15. Need me to grab anything on my way?
It was kind of him to offer. I opened the fridge, wondering what he’d want to drink. I didn’t have much selection. Would he want a beer after a long day at work? Soda to get him through the evening? Water? I could see him being the type of guy who wanted to stay well-hydrated because he looked like he tried to stay healthy.
If you want anything other than milk or juice, you might want to stop by the store.
I read the message back after hitting send, cringing at how unprepared that made me sound. I was the host. It was my job to have whatever he wanted on hand. Except, when I’d had access to a car, I hadn’t planned on having anyone over. I never had guests other than Mara, and she didn’t count. I quickly tapped out another message.
Sorry, it’s bad form for me to ask you to bring something. I would have gotten whatever you wanted if I had my car.
Carson’s response took almost no time.
Breathe, Ezra. I don’t expect you to do anything special for me. Dinner is more than enough.
If I had any questions about whether I was making a huge mistake seeing where things were headed between us, he squashed them with that one response. Mara was right. Carson liked to come across as cold and unfeeling, but he was starting to show me glimpses of the teddy bear beneath.
To keep from obsessively checking my phone to watch every single minute pass, I made one final pass through the apartment. There was something sticky on the counter, so I wiped it down again. My shoes were in a pile next to the door, so I quickly stashed them at the bottom of my bedroom closet.
I’d just grabbed two sweatshirts and the winter coat off the back of the club chair in the living area when there was a knock on the front door. After so many years spent in the city with security-locked buildings, it was unsettling to know someone could walk right in and knock like that.
“Coming!” I set down the pile of clothes on my way back to the door. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be enough for him to judge me on. My breath caught in my throat when I swung the door open. Carson’s hair was still wet, and the flannel I was used to seeing him wearing had been replaced by a black leather jacket.
I really hoped he didn’t notice me wetting my lips. Beneath the jacket, he wore a gleaming white T-shirt that stretched across his massive chest. It was thin enough that I could see the smattering of dark hair beneath, and my fingers tingled with the desire to comb them through it. I’d heard Mara and Lacey refer to guys they found attractive as sex on two legs, but I’d never understood the sentiment. Now I did. He was living, breathing temptation.
“Hi,” I greeted him, complete with a little wave.
He smiled at me but didn’t step into the apartment.
I hesitated, then realized I was blocking his way. I stepped to the side and ushered him in. “I’m sorry. Come in.”
“Thanks.” As he passed, he handed me a plastic bag. “I grabbed a few different types of soda because I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anything.” I jumped when the timer buzzed from the stove. “Sorry, I need to get the food out of the oven. I was worried it would be ready before you got here, but I guess not. I swear I can make more than finger foods, but I’ve been testing new recipes ever since you came in the other day.”
“So you’re saying I’m your guinea pig now?” I almost dropped the sheet pan I was pulling out of the oven when Carson stripped out of his jacket.
What was it about men in white T-shirts that was so sexy? They were seriously the least sexy article of clothing, but there was just something about a man with bulging biceps wearing one that had always done it for me. And Carson absolutely didn’t disappoint.
My breath caught when he joined me in the kitchen, his arm brushing against my back as he passed me. I paid careful attention to arranging the appetizers I’d made on a couple of plates. Because I didn’t have guests often, I didn’t have any fancy serving ware.
I regretted the decision to not buy the pieces that matched the rest of my dishes, even though I was certain Carson wouldn’t judge me for it. “I know you probably eat healthier foods most of the time. If it’s too much, you can tell me. It would probably be good for me to come up with some lighter options, now that I think of it.”
My knees turned to Jell-O when Carson placed a hand on my shoulder, leaning close enough that I felt the heat of his body against my back. “Don’t you dare. If there’s something you want to try, I’ll eat it, but don’t feel like you need to change what you’re already doing on my account.”
“Are you sure?” Breathing became difficult when I turned and noticed just how close he was to me. I took a second to take in his physique. Compared to him, I felt downright scrawny. “You said earlier you’d have to buy new clothes if I kept feeding you.”
His fingers ghosted down my arm, and I shivered at the jolt that zinged through my body. “That’s only because I love seeing the way you react when someone enjoys your cooking. It would be easy to live a fat and happy life if you were in the kitchen for me. To be completely honest, I’m probably eating healthier now than I usually do. The Tap and Rosarios both know my order as soon as they see my number come up on their caller ID.”
“Seriously?” I gaped at him. “It’s seriously unfair that you look like that on burgers and pizza.”
“I’m glad to know you approve.” My brain short-circuited when his hand slid around to the nape of my neck. He leaned in, and I freaked. I jerked away, making a weak excuse about needing to get the food served before it got cold. Carson backed away. I missed his closeness. “Sorry, that was presumptuous of me.”
“No, it’s not you,” I reassured him. “God, that sounds cliché. But it’s really not. It’s me.”
“No, I shouldn’t pressure you into anything you’re not ready for.” He grabbed one of the plates of appetizers, and I took the other, following him out to the small dinette set. “Tell me what you made tonight. It looks just as amazing as everything else. I’m tempted to tell you to bring a bit of everything to the party, but that would blow through the budget and money we’re hoping to collect in donations.”
