Page 26 of Line Change

“Yes.” She narrows her eyes at me. “But they wouldn’t even take a tip from me. Said it was already taken care of.” She studies me. “You can’t keep doing this.”

I shrug off her comment because I can and I will. “I’m glad things went well. Think I’m going to change and unpack. Shouldn’t be long.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder.

“Sebastian,” she mumbles, but I’m already grabbing my stuff and hurrying into the bedroom to unpack.

Chapter ten

Sutton

I watch his receding form as he heads into his bedroom, and when the door snicks shut, I grab a cup from the drying rack and fill it with water. I feel guilty that I’m in his space. I’m sure he has a routine he does when he gets home from a road trip, and here I am, in the way. I frown into my glass. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe I should find somewhere else to live.

“You alright, love?”

Shit.

I blink. How long was I lost in thought? I look up to see him hovering in the doorway wearing a different outfit. Good grief, what is it with guys and gray sweatpants? They should be illegal. I’m gonna blame the pregnancy hormones for this feeling—that if he asked me if he could kiss me, could touch me, I’d say yes. But I can’t. I can look though, and damn, he is hot. Between the gray sweatpants, the five o’clock shadow, and the silver chain he’s wearing tucked into his shirt, it’s the perfect combination of hotness. I rub my thighs together, trying to relieve the ache.

“Sutton?”

I gasp when I realize he’s moved closer to me. I back up, needing to put space between us, and bump into the counter.

“Fine. I’m fine.” I gulp down the rest of my water, trying and failing not to check him out.

He stares at me for a second before walking over to the fridge and opening it.

“There’s leftover pasta and meatballs you can eat. I made them tonight for dinner. In the glass dish.”

“You sure.” He takes out the container, turning to face me. “Seems like you packed this for lunch tomorrow.”

I shrug, because he’s not wrong, but I also feel bad. I’m already staying in his place. The least I can do is share my leftovers with him.

“Sutton.” He holds it up. “I don’t want to eat your lunch.” He puts my food back in the fridge before opening the freezer, taking out a container, popping off the top, and taking it over to the microwave to heat up.

He leans against the counter, watching me while his food cooks. “You’re more than welcome to my meals in the freezer.” He tips his chin toward said appliance. “If you don’t feel like cooking.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, although I have no plans to eat his food.

“I’m serious. Tell me what you like to eat, and I’ll ask my chef to make you some meals.”

“It’s fine, but thank you.”

“Let me take care of you.”

“I’m not yours to take care of,” I snap.

His smile falters, and I realize that was an asshole thing to say.

“You’re right.” The microwave beeps, and he takes his food out. “Sorry, I overstepped.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was rude, and—”

“It’s fine. I get it. I’m gonna go watch TV.” He grabs a fork from the drawer and walks out of the kitchen before I can respond.

Great, Sutton. Just fucking wonderful. Can’t keep your mouth shut. Or just say thank you. The man was trying to help.

I sit at the counter for a few minutes, trying to collect myself, before getting up and heading into the living room, pausing just inside the entranceway. Maybe I should go to bed.

Sebastian sets his food down on the coffee table and pats the spot on the couch next to him. “Want to come sit?”