She’s taking care of me.The thought had warmth spreading through his chest, his stomach coiling with a sensual tension he always felt when he was with his mate.
“I can drizzle sauce over the broccoli if that entices you at all,” Nessa offered, gently turning the chicken over in the pan with a fork. Her hair was in a ponytail today, the teal strands shining under the soft lights in the kitchen. She looked in her element here. And happy.
The first time she’d made him food, she’d been so nervous. But now that they’d spent days together, learning each other’s habits and behaviors, she’d relaxed entirely in his presence. He loved that he made her feel that way; safe and at ease. That he could be a place of comfort for her after everything she’d gone through, especially after the rough start they’d had with each other.
This was the first time she’d come back to his home after her initial visit, and he was excited to have her here, filling hisspace with her scent and her warmth. Making his house ahome, though she didn’t even realize it.
At the thought, Murphy felt a brief flicker of guilt, and he glanced away from her.
He felt deceptive, hiding his true intentions from Nessa. Building her trust with ulterior motives. It felt wrong. Sneaky. Did human males often hide their interest in mating? Was he going about this the wrong way?
His attempts to woo her had begun at breakfast a few days before. He’d cooked her a meal, given her neck a massage, and held her close after opening up about his former friendship with Dante. The experience had been rather intimate, and he’d relished every second.
Ever since, he’d done little things to hint at his interest in mating her. Holding her hand whenever he could, cupping her cheek, toying with her hair. Since the threat of Dante, he refused to leave her side, except when he could station one of his clan members to watch over her while he went out and got them lunch, or picked up dinner so she didn’t have to cook after work. He’d been sleeping over, too, and each night after dinner, he sat dangerously close to her on the couch while they talked about anything and everything.
Everything but her past, which she avoided, and he never brought up, not wanting to pressure her into disclosing more than she was comfortable with.
Which led him to the slight predicament he’d put himself into now. He’d intended to ask Nessa out to a romantic dinner—he’d read that going on dates was a huge pastime among humans to help decide if they were compatible with one another for mating. For shifters in general, there wasn’t much point. You could tell by scent alone if someone was interested in you sexually, removing the need for dating entirely.
But Murphy had gotten so nervous that she’d turn him down and flat out reject his advances that when he’d opened his mouth to ask her out, he’d blurted out that he needed to go grocery shopping instead. She’d agreed to go with him, which inevitably led them back here, to his home, where she was cooking him dinner.
He was such a damned idiot. But as he watched Nessa enthusiastically prepare their meal, he didn’t regret that he’d fumbled asking her out.
It was probably too soon for that anyway.
Aside from that, her SUV wouldn’t be repaired until tomorrow. Until then, she was reliant on him to travel anywhere—the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel like she owed him something in return.
So he’d bide his time, work with her to overcome whatever fears lingered in her heart and mind, and then he’d tell her he couldn’t live without her.
That was simple enough, right?
“Murphy? Earth to Murphy.” Nessa snapped her fingers, dragging him from his thoughts. She’d turned from the stove, staring at him in slight exasperation. “Sauce on the broccoli, yes or no?”
“That sounds great.” Murphy shifted on his barstool, staring across the kitchen island as Nessa continued with her task. “Are you sure I can’t help? I may not be a great cook but you worked all day, and then we went grocery shopping. You’ve got to be exhausted, Nes.”
She narrowed her eyes, lifting a fork dripping with sauce and pointing it at him menacingly. “This is the first time I’ve cooked adobo for anyone but myself since mylolo—my grandpa—passed away, so I am far more excited than I am tired,” she assured him. “Plus, it’s Friday night. The teahouse isn’t open on the weekends, so I plan on sleeping in tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Murphy almost stood from his seat, wishing he was close enough to touch her. Shifters were big on physical contact, and while she wasn’t, that longing to hold her close persisted in his heart like a physical ache.
“Thank you.” She paused, and for a moment, her eyes watered. She blinked them away quickly, taking a trembling breath. “I was nineteen when it happened. Heart attack. He was there one moment and then gone the next. I didn’t realize it could happen so fast,” she said, swallowing thickly.
She looked down at the kitchen island separating them, and her chin wobbled.
Murphy was out of his seat and at her side in an instant, drawing her away from the island and into his arms. Nessa dropped her fork onto a paper towel before wrapping her arms around his waist, her cheek nestled against his chest.
He felt the warmth of her tears seep into his sweater, and he ached for her. Running a hand up and down her back soothingly, he cradled the back of her neck with the other.
“It’s okay, little mate,” he whispered.
“I know, I just … I haven’t really thought about his death in a while, and it just hit me suddenly that I’m never going to see him again,” she cried, more tears spilling down her face. “Ugh, I’m sorry for getting your shirt wet.”
“It’s just a shirt.”
“Yeah, but—”
“It’s just a shirt,” he reiterated quietly, fingers kneading her nape. “Use it as a Kleenex for all I care, Nes.”
“You say that now, but if I blew my nose into this expensive cashmere, you’d be mortified.” She cracked a small smile before her expression sobered.
