He’s just too good at resisting.
But my inexperience leaves me at a loss about how to coax the lion out of the cage.
I certainly can’t ask Mom. Maybe my brother? What an awkward conversation that would be.
My wandering mind and the soothing lull of the bubbles places me at such peace that I don’t realize the sounds of Falco working have faded until a shadow blocks out the last sliver of sunlight peeking through the tree line. I open my eyes.
Falco stands above me, his eyes slightly narrowed as he stares down at me. “Grilled or fried?”
“Huh?” Sweat discolors the neckline of his shirt. From this angle, the swell of his pecks and rise of his thick, muscular shoulders is mouthwatering. What I would do for the confidence to drag him into the water alongside me.
“Your fish. Grilled or fried?”
“You pick,” I reply. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Falco’s lips part, then he nods once and vanishes into the cabin, but the door remains open.
Closing my eyes, my mind drifts once more. Those lips against my skin would be amazing.
If I focus hard enough, I can imagine how soft they would feel against the contrast of his clipped beard.
Those rough hands would leave lines of tingles all over my skin, and I bet he’d leave bruises. I’d want him to. A touchable memory of our time together.
Either Falco is a magician with food or time passes differently in the hot tub, because it feels like only a few minutes later when Falco’s calling me for dinner.
Climbing out of the hot tub, I wrap myself in the nearest fluffy robe just as Falco exits the cabin with two plates of fish steaming and sizzling within tinfoil pockets. The smell hits me instantly and my stomach growls loudly.
“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” I gasp, my hands flying to my cheeks to hide the sudden rush of heat.
“Don’t apologize,” Falco says while setting the two plates down on the hand-carved table next to the bench. “You haven’t eaten all day. And we hiked. And you haven’t been eating much these past few days, so if this is what it takes to make you hungry, then I’ll take it.”
My embarrassment eases. Taking a seat, I pick up one of the plates and set it in my lap. The grilled fish inside is scalding hot and very fluffy, carefully picked apart with all the bones and guts removed. Even the head is gone, which I appreciate despite not asking.
“You should come to the woods more often,” I say, gently stabbing at my fish.
“Why?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ve spoken to me more here than anywhere else.”
Falco, seated next to me, furrows his brow. “We talk all the time.”
“No, we discuss life. Danger. Everything, but we don’t talk. You’re Mr. one-word answers and grunts, telling me what I can and can’t do. But today I learned you can fish and you like it. You can debone and gut. You can cook. I’ve finally learned something about you.”
Falco remains silent, watching me as I pop a bite of the hot fish into my mouth. An explosion of flavors darts across my tongue. Lemon, rosemary, garlic, and a few others I can’t quite place.
“Oh my god, this tastes amazing!”
“I can cook,” Falco says and his lips twitch. “It’s not in my job description to talk.”
“Sure. But I want to get to know you.”
“Why?”
Another bite. How do I tell him that I want to see if my attraction to him is purely physical or if there’s a real connection there? As soon as he found out, he’d shut me down for sure, so I shrug. “Dad usually cycles guards out by now. For some reason he likes you, and I do too, so why shouldn’t we get to know each other?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“There’s no way you’re that one-dimensional.”
