Vic bit into his sandwich again, nearly finishing it with two bites.
He glanced over at Jackson, his brows furrowed.
I waited for him to tell him to shut up and eat, but instead he said, “I hated tomatoes too.”
Jackson’s eyes widened as if it was the best thing he’d ever heard. “You did?”
Vic finished his first sandwich and picked up his second. “Ate them every day for fifteen days. That’s how long it took to like them.”
I didn’t think Jackson’s eyes could widen any farther, but they did. “And then you got big and strong?”
I laughed to myself. God, I wanted to squeeze him.
“No. I acquired a taste for them.”
Jackson frowned. “What’s acquire?”
“I learned to like them, kid.”
I leaned back against the wall and smiled. No matter how blunt Vic was, I liked that about him. He was honest. No bullshit, even with a six-year-old boy who looked at him like he was some kind of superhero.
But Vic Gate wasn’t a superhero. He’d made that perfectly clear.
He was a killer. But weren’t superheroes too? They killed the bad guys.
I straightened and walked into the kitchen.
The second I did, I felt Vic’s gaze swing to me, then slide down my heated skin. It had been heated because of the shower, but now it was heated because of him watching me.
My belly did that stupid flip-flop because you didn’t have Vic’s eyes on you and not feel something.
The question was what it meant exactly. And I wasn’t prepared to decipher that at the moment, or maybe ever.
My eyes shifted to Jackson sitting on the blue barrel eating his sandwich. He looked so small and frail next to Vic.
He looked up at me and grinned. That grin was like being handed the sun in the palm of your hand on a rainy day. “I’m going to like tomatoes in fourteen more days.”
I walked over, and it took everything not to pull Jackson into a hug. Instead, I did something I’d never done before and kissed the top of his head. “Wow, that’s great, little man.” I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d clam up, but it was like he didn’t even notice—or if he did, he was trusting me enough to break through the barrier.
“And I drank milk made of nuts,” he said, raising his glass that had a white film on the sides. “It was really good. Can we get some?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
My gaze shifted to Vic so I could ask what kind of nut milk, but the words were trapped in my throat. Because Vic was watching me.
No, not just watching.
It felt as if his piercing eyes burned right through my core and set it on fire. Like a match had been struck and was sizzling, and at any second it was going to drop to the ground and set fire to a warehouse full of fireworks.
I felt my cheeks scorch as my body burned in places it shouldn’t be burning.
My heart skipped beats, then pounded so hard against my ribcage, I was afraid he’d hear it.
He’d looked at me plenty of times, but this was different.
This was naked.
This was heated.