I put both of my arms behind my head and grinned. The grin quickly fell off my face when she planted her hands on her hips and jutted out her chest.
Jesus Christ, but she was beautiful. Even pissed as hell, she did it for me.
“I did it because I trust you,” I told her. “I trust you, and that’s all that matters. Now, as for what food? I don’t care right now. I could go for a big juicy burger or a salad. Whatever you feel like eating yourself.”
She sighed. “I was hoping that you’d say ‘I want a Whataburger number one’ and I could have an excuse to go there.”
“I want a Whataburger number two,” I teased. “With ketchup and no mustard.”
She sighed. “If you’re broken for the time being, you should probably eat healthy.”
Probably.
But after Candy Ray Sunshine and her stubborn mule? Well, I wasn’t really in the best of moods.
“Honey,” I said gruffly. “I could murder a burger right now. Please bring me one.”
Her mouth kicked up at the corner. “Damn, that was kind of hot.”
With that, she left without another word, leaving me to wonder if she said those words to get a reaction out of me or to tease me because she felt the same way.
Either way, I had a feeling I was about to really enjoy the rest of my night.Chapter 8Day drinking from a mug to keep things looking professional.
-Coffee Cup
Desi
I had no idea what I was doing.
Honestly, there were about fifty thousand things I should be doing right now, and getting burgers and fries for a man that I’d literally just met a few days ago wasn’t one of them.
Yet, I couldn’t stop myself.
I wasn’t sure what it was about the man.
Maybe it was the way he always looked me in the eyes when he spoke to me. Maybe it was the way he always had a ready smile any time I said something to amuse him. Hell, maybe it was because it was nice to have someone seem attracted to me after feeling like a complete pile of shit whenever my ex-husband came into the room.
Whatever the reason for my newfound desire to spend time with the man, I was going to do it.
I also found that him being hurt sent my nurturing instincts into overdrive.
I hated that he was hurt.
I hated even more when I walked out and felt his eyes on me, as if he wanted to go with me, but knew that he couldn’t.
So I was going to get him a burger and fries—and me a salad because swear to God, I was starting to notice a difference, at least on the scale—and I was going to bring it back to him with crutches and an ice pack.
I was also going to get him the other stuff he requested, and then I was going to try to keep myself from jumping his bones for the rest of the night.
I wasn’t sure if I’d be successful or not, though, based on the look he gave me right before I’d left.
Of course, my mind was so preoccupied with what I was thinking—and wanting to do—that I didn’t pay attention to what I was doing.
Which was why I ran smack-dab into the man that I’d been mad at since this morning.
“Mal,” I said, backing up.
Mal’s hands went to my arms and squeezed. Not hard, but definitely not soft, either.
“Dad told me he was buying the house,” he said, setting me back and letting me go.
I juggled the ice pack, the milk, and the crutches.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Dad also told me that you were moving out,” he continued.
“Yes,” I agreed.
Maybe one-word answers would relay that I really didn’t want to talk to him.
“You’re still running that Spartan race?” he asked, looking concerned now.
“Yes,” I replied, starting to inch around him.
When I moved, he did, too, blocking me in.
Shit.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “There’s no reason we can’t both live in the house.”
I would’ve rolled my eyes had I thought that it would’ve done me any good. But swear to God, my emotions might as well have been nonexistent when it came to my ex-husband.
“Dad said that he also helped you get a store,” he continued as if this was normal for us to be having a conversation in the middle of the drugstore. “That you’re going to start your own business.”
“Yes.” I sighed.
Really, what would it take for him to let me leave?
I glanced at the aisle behind me and wondered if I could make it to the end and then back up, or if he’d just block me at the top of the next aisle.
My guess was that he’d stop me.
Goddangit.
“Would you make mine and Margie’s wedding cake?” he asked. “Margie wanted me to ask you since she knows that you’re the best in town.”