6
GARRETT
I’m back to the tongue-tied idiot.
Seeing Alexandria in my home is exactly how I pictured it.
She fits.
I want her to stay.
It’s why I offered her a drink. It was the only thing I could think of to keep her here a little longer. But now she has her drink, and she’s looking at me like she’s never seen me before.
Taking a drink, she watches me over her glass with an intensity that has me wanting to squirm. I don’t move though. It takes a herculean effort, but I remain perfectly still on the opposite side of the island, my gaze locked with hers.
“Yes. A very fascinating man.” Putting her half-empty glass down, she leans against the counter and smiles. “What other fascinating things are there to learn about you?”
I shrug.
“Oh, come on. You own and work at Boyd’s and yet you have a fully equipped garage downstairs that a professional mechanic would drool over.” She waves a hand to indicate my home. “And this is not your typical bachelor pad.”
I grunt. “Who said I was a bachelor?”
“Well…” Her gaze moves around the room. “I will admit this looks like a woman might have been involved at one point. Although there aren’t any signs one lives here.”
“No woman.” It always pisses me off when men are stereotyped. I’m not your typical man. Neither are my brothers. When your only parent dies when your oldest sibling is barely legal you grow up different than the average guy.
“Okay. No woman in your life.” She pulls the bottom right-side of her lip into her mouth, worries it with her teeth, and I have to clench every muscle to stop myself from launching over the island to tug on that lip with my own teeth. “So, you designed this? Decorated it?”
“Yeah.”
“Garrett, can I be honest with you?”
“Yes.”
“I’m more than a little intrigued by you. But, and this isn’t a dig at you or who you are, but are you always this talkative?” she asks with a grin.
I know she’s teasing by the smile on her face and the twinkle in her eyes. “I talk.”
“Yes. You do.” Her grin grows. “What would it take to get you to talk more?”
“Food.” It’s the first thing that pops into my head. If she wants me to talk I will, but she’d have to stick around to listen, and I don’t know if she will without a better reason than me speaking.
“Food?” She looks at her phone. “It’s almost midnight.”
“And?”
“Dinner was hours ago.”
I pat my stomach. “I’m a growing boy.”
“You’re hungry?”
I’m famished. Not for food, but I’ll eat if it means she stays here longer. “I could eat.”
Her head tips to the right, her eyes narrowing as she studies me.
“I’ve got some cheese and crackers.” I turn to the fridge before she can argue.
