And even as gorgeous as the house is, I can’t help but continue to sneak a peek at Killian—who is still naked.
He walks me to the monstrous refrigerator, opening it wide. “You’re welcome to anything I have.”
This is totally awkward, but my stomach rumbles as though punctuating its need for food.
This place is stocked. It has every fruit or vegetable imaginable. There is a whole section, yes, section because it’sthat big, of yogurts and dairy products. To the left is an array of already cooked meats. Who lives like this?
“Do you have a chef?” I ask.
Killian shakes his head. “I like to cook. I eat as healthy as I can, so I always keep things ready to grab.”
“I see. Can I have a yogurt?” I ask.
“Yogurt?”
I nod. It seems like the easiest and quickest thing.
Killian laughs once. “Go sit on stool at the counter,” he instructs.
I have never been a girl who likes to take orders, but with him, it feels different. Like he wants to care for me, not boss me around just because.
So, I go over to the stool and jump up. “Now what?”
He smiles. “Now I’m going to make you a proper meal.”
“Fish?” I tease.
“No fish, sweetheart, but how do tacos sound?”
I purse my lips, pondering it in a playful way. “Hmm, tacos on a Tuesday? I guess that sounds…perfect.”
Still naked, Killian grabs supplies from the fridge and lines them all up. “Spicy or not?”
“Medium spice? I’m like a three-pepper girl.”
“Since I’m going to be touching jalapeños, I need clothes. I’ll be right back.” He walks over, kisses me on the nose and heads back in the bedroom as I stare at his tight ass.
He returns after putting on a pair of gym shorts and gets to work.
I sit here, munching on some chips and salsa since he didn’t want me to wait the fifteen minutes it might take to assemble some tacos, and I appreciate that.
Our conversation is surface level at best. We talk about the house, the farm, the options for food in town and that’s it. Killianmakes me a plate with three soft shell tacos, and he sits next to me with his.
“So, what brought you to Ember Falls?” Killian asks as I grab the taco and take a bite.
I chew, not wanting to be rude, and then answer, keeping up with the story I told Max seems to be the smartest idea. “Work. I’m a consultant and there’s a client in the area that needs some help.”
“That’s great. How long are you here for?”
I shift in my chair. “A week or two? I’m not sure yet.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll see each other—the town is small.”
My cheeks heat and I look over with a smile. “I hope so.”
“I do too,” he admits before taking a bite.
I do the same, hoping that maybe I can avoid saying something stupid. When we’re both done, he grabs the plates and puts them in the sink. His phone buzzes, and he makes a face that clearly says he’s not happy and looks up.
