One to Love (One to Hold 4)

The idea of him watching me sleep filled my stomach with the happiest flutter. It probably helped that he kept saying I was beautiful. It was such a lie compared to him. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. The best part was I truly wanted him. Oh, god, I wanted him too fucking much.

All day at work, I’d been slammed with clients, and he’d been busy with his tasks—cleaning up everybody’s crap, helping Rook with deliveries, unloading and loading. Carrying heavy boxes to the juice bar for Mariska, although I was pretty sure she scouted out heavy objects for him to carry just so she could watch his muscles flex.

She’d fan her face and pretend to faint when his back was turned, and I’d burst out laughing in the middle of helping a client. The last time, I was working with a very proper older woman, and her stern response said she wasn’t amused. I almost laughed more.

As soon as my last client had left, Mariska practically pushed me out the door.

“Go! Make sexy food with lots of cayenne and capsaicin. Peppers are good for the heart and the libido—it’s a win-win!”

“You just love spicy food.” I shoved my key in the cubby before charging out to start the dinner I’d been planning since the night before, when I realized he was feeding me at the cost of what might be his meals for a week.

Emotion burned in my chest. I couldn’t believe how strong my feelings were for him. That moment last night when he’d held my face, when I’d wanted him to claim me, it was when I knew. However this ended, he was leaving a permanent mark on my heart. Nothing could stop me charging full-speed into this.

* * *

He stood on my doorstep, in a dark green tee and the same jeans he’d worn last night. In one hand was a tiny bouquet of five flowers—again daisies and lilies—the other was shoved in his pocket. Shit, he looked good enough to eat.

He peeked past me at my comparatively large apartment. “Smells really good.”

“I made meatloaf.” Then I started to laugh.

How much more old school could I get? I didn’t care, I wanted to stuff him full of cheesy starches and meat and cover his mouth with kisses.

“Whatever you made, it smells delicious.”

I loved the twinkle in his eye. Grabbing his arm, I pulled him into my apartment. “Give me those,” I said, taking the flowers out of his hand. “Where do you keep finding them?”

“At the market. They have this disc... this bin.”

My cheeks rose with my smile. I didn’t care if they were day-old flowers, they were beautiful. “Come over here and talk to me.”

I went to the bar, where I pulled out a small glass vase and a pair of heavy scissors. First, I dumped in the white flower mixture then I filled it with water. Next, I stood by the bar and snipped off the tips of each stem before sliding them into a neat arrangement. It was pretty and perfect.

“I’m not such a great cook,” I confessed. “My mom taught me to cook a mac and cheese casserole in case I ever had to do one for a funeral or whatever...”

“You’re making me funeral food? Shit, that sucks.”

I burst out laughing, holding my palm against my forehead. “No—it’s just the only fancy thing I know how to make.”

“I’m not fancy.”

In that moment, I wanted to feel that smile against my skin again, the scuff of that light beard. Last night he’d been all around me, inside me, everywhere. It was amazing, and I wanted to go there again. But first, we’d eat.

“You’re my guest! Now come with me.” Reaching for his arm, he paused to unlace his heavy boots.

“Your place is really ridiculous,” he said, looking around. “You have a whole extra room. Wasteful.”

I snorted a laugh. I’d only been able to get in here with Patrick’s help. Once Rook promoted me to trainer, I could finally cover all my own bills. “Yes. I’m the Queen, so you’d better act right or I’ll summon my goons and have them throw you out.”

Boots off, he straightened right in front of me. His mouth was a breath from mine, and it was almost unbearable. “You call those goons. I might like a good fight before I climb your walls and claim you for my own.”

I clasped my hands on his cheeks and kissed him then. He didn’t pull away. In fact, he scooped an arm around my waist and lifted me, kissing me deeper.

My fingers slid down, grazing the line of his jaw, before holding his neck as he released me.

Looking straight in my eyes, he grinned. “Where’s this meatloaf?”

* * *