“Do you want something to eat, or would you prefer to see your room and freshen up first?” We stayed at Abby and Kai’s, talking with the guys for hours after the four men left, trying to wrap our heads around everything we learned and come up with ideas on how to trap Athena’s father into giving us the final answers we need. Then we stopped at her apartment briefly after we left my sister’s house so she could change and grab her things.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here? You seem like a guy who likes his own space.”
“I do, but I’m fine with it.” If you’d asked me even a week ago if I’d ever invite a woman to invade my private space, I’d probably have put a bullet through your skull for even daring to ask.
But I’m more than okay with this.
I like the thought of her roaming the floors of my home. Swimming in my pool. Walking in my gardens. Cooking at my stove.
I cut my thoughts off before I decide to check myself into the psychiatric ward at Parkhurst.
“If you want me to leave, I’ll go. I’m capable of looking after myself, and I seriously doubt my father will take a potshot at me.”
“We agreed it’s safest for you here. Besides, he’ll love it. It’s proof your mission to seduce me is working.” Athena was much more forthcoming on the trip back from Abby’s house, filling me in on what her father asked of her and other stuff.
There’s an understanding between us now, and we’ve both agreed to start over and work together as a team.
I never expected to like it as much as I do.
“I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable, Drew, so if you need space or you want me to go just say it. I want there to be nothing but truth and honesty between us from now on.”
“Sounds good to me.” I lift her bags. “Let me show you to your room. I’m gonna grab a quick shower, and then I’ll make us something to eat.”
* * *
“Something smells delicious,” Athena says forty minutes later when she wanders downstairs. Her hair is freshly blow-dried and she’s wearing yoga pants, an oversized sweater, and slides.
“Don’t expect much,” I say, plating the spaghetti with shrimp in tomato sauce. “I can cook, but it’s definitely not Michelin standard or anything close to it.”
She hops up onto a stool at the island unit, and I set a plate and silverware down in front of her. “I’m shocked there’s something you’re humble about.”
Laughter rumbles from my chest. “I guess I deserve that.”
I fill two glasses with water and give one to her before sliding onto the stool beside her with my food. We eat in companionable silence, and warmth swells my chest when she eats every single bite.
“That was yummy, and you can cook for me anytime.” She pats her flat stomach through her sweater.
“You’re welcome. It’s the first time I’ve cooked for a woman in a long time,” I admit as I scoop up the plates and silverware and take them to the dishwasher.
“It’s the first time any man has cooked for me. I could get used to it,” she admits.
I stack our dirty dishes and head to the coffee machine and turn it on. “How is that?”
She props her elbows on the counter and her pretty face in her hands. “Told you I haven’t dated much. In college, the couple of guys I dated were the kind who ordered pizza and called it dinner, and later, the guys I was forced to date barely knew how to boil an egg.”
“Forced to date?” I ask, removing two mugs from the overhead press.
“Most of those guys you’ve seen in photos with me were guys I seduced on my father’s instructions. Men he had a grudge with or someone he was planning to rip off, and he needed insider intel.”
Anger swirls in my gut as I fix two coffees. “I didn’t think it was possible to hate your father any more than I do, but you’ve just proven me wrong.”
“He’s not hard to hate.”
“Cream or sugar?” I ask.
“Neither. I prefer it black like my soul.” She waggles her brows, and I just stare at her like an idiot, wondering if this is what it feels like to fall.
“You’re so alarmingly like me at times it’s freaky,” I admit when I snap out of it, handing her a mug.
