Finding Him (Covet 2)

I don’t know how long I leaned against the wall and watched her bake. She was actually doing a pretty good job, gauze and all. I’d rewrapped it tighter this time and made sure that a few of her good fingers were exposed on her right hand so that she could do more.

She stared at the mixing bowl and put her hands on her hips then very slowly turned around. “I need your muscle.”

I pushed away from the wall. “For homemade cookies, I’d do pretty much anything.”

She seemed to perk up. “Really?”

“I feel a question coming.”

She frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re full of questions.” I laughed, grabbed the wooden spoon, and started stirring. “Bet you love puzzles and find extreme enjoyment when each piece fits where it’s supposed to. Bet it would drive you batshit crazy if I stole one piece and it was incomplete.”

She elbowed me in the side, her closeness giving me a whiff of perfume that had my body aching in all the wrong and right places. “Who would do that?”

“Me. I would do that.”

“No cookies for you.”

“Hey, the puzzle isn’t even real!”

“In my head it is!” she argued with a grin. “Just imagine you’re giving the piece back, and I’ll let you eat the dough.”

I laughed and then paused a few seconds. “Okay, I gave the piece back, and I even left a brand-new puzzle right next to it for you to obsess over. Happy?”

She did a little dance. “Best imaginary gift anyone has ever given me.”

“I live to please,” I said dryly, stirring the ingredients with fervor while she bent over to grab a cookie sheet.

I stepped back so I wouldn’t run into her, and when she flipped around she nearly collided with the bowl. I caught her by the arms and held her still. “Is this your new thing? Colliding with me?”

“Is this your new thing?” Her breath came out in a short exhale. “Manhandling me?”

I grinned down at her. “Oh, princess, you’d know if I was manhandling you . . .”

Her eyes dilated before she jerked away and laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m more of a nonaggressive sort of . . . person.”

“Hmm.” I went back to the bowl and started making small balls with my hands. “Your words don’t match your eyes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She turned on the oven and grabbed another cookie sheet, not looking at me.

“It’s not appropriate talk during cookie making, the chocolate chips might hear.”

She snorted out a laugh. “I can take it, so can they. Try me, I’m game . . .”

I dropped the dough and trapped her against the counter, a hand on either side of her body while mine pressed into hers. “America’s sweetheart doesn’t always want sweet, that’s what I think.” I traced a finger down her chin while she licked her lips. “I think a part of you wants to be wild, and I think that you’ve yet to experience it.”

Her nostrils flared. “That’s not fair.”

“I didn’t say it was,” I said softly. “I’m just saying you don’t have to pretend, not around me. Trust me, I’m not worth the façade.” I dropped my hands and returned to the dough.

“You’re wrong.” Her voice came a few seconds later. “I’m not pretending, you know . . . I’m just protecting myself . . .”

“From what?”

She gulped, and then guilt flashed across her face as she whispered, “You.”

In all my years of living, one word has never had such a precise impact as it twisted its way toward my heart and hit its mark.

Noah had been her savior.

And she saw me as her downfall.

“I’m . . .” I wasn’t sure why the truth hurt. I never lied to her about the sort of man I was, but I thought that maybe she saw me as more than that. I thought she saw me as the man I was trying to be. I was rarely wrong about people, but I guess in this case . . . “I’m really tired . . . I’m going to go to sleep.”

“Julian—”

“No, it’s fine . . .” I forced a smile. “Help should be here in the next few hours anyway, at least by morning.”

“What?” Her face paled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I called in help, so that you don’t die from an infection.”

“When did you get cell reception?”

I cursed. “A while ago.”

“Why is it taking so long then if it was a while ago?”

“Because I’m exactly who you think I am,” I admitted. “A selfish bastard who wanted more time with a pretty girl because he thought she saw more than everyone else. Stupid, I know. I called before my shower. Enjoy the cookies.”

I left.

I didn’t want to see the guilt on her face.

I didn’t want her to see the sadness on mine.

A rational part of me told me I was being unfair, we barely knew each other.