Vegas, Baby - Volume 3

It sounded like the best meal I’d had in a long time. “I like all of it.”

He flashed me a grin before pulling the chicken and vegetables out. I finished off my drink as he started to get things ready. When it was gone, I walked over to the sink and rinsed out the glass. “Can I help?”

“Sure. You can be in charge of the zucchini,” he offered before heading outside to start the grill to cook the chicken.

As I cut the vegetable into chunks, my stomach let out a loud growl right as Saint walked back inside. His attention zeroed in on me, and his dark eyes narrowed. “When’s the last time you ate?”

My eyes went wide, and my cheeks heated as I bit my bottom lip before I answered his question. I was embarrassed to admit how long it’d been, but the look he gave me made it clear he wasn’t going to let this go. “I had some toast this morning.”

“Motherfucker,” he bit out, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb as his nostrils flared. “Are you telling me you’ve been hungry this whole damn time?”

I nodded, and tears filled my eyes. I dropped my head and squeezed them shut, jumping a little when he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around my back to pull me into his chest. “Relax, angel eyes. I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay,” I sniffled into his shirt.

“I’m pissed at myself for not thinking to ask sooner, and at your brother for not taking better care of you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “But don’t worry. I won’t make the same mistake again.”

He led me over to the stools lined up at the counter and got me settled on the one at the end. Then he stalked over to the fridge and pulled out some hummus and carrots. After dumping about half the bag of carrots onto a plate, he spooned up a huge portion of the hummus and brought the plate over to me. “Snack on this while dinner is cooking.” He followed that up by grabbing a chunk of cheddar cheese, cutting half a dozen slices, and plating them up with a row of crackers. “And this.”

When he headed back to the fridge a third time, I figured he’d keep going until there was more food in front of me than I’d have any hope of eating. “Stop. This is plenty. I need to save room for dinner, too.”

“You sure, angel eyes?” he asked, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Yeah.” I smiled at him as he walked over to where I’d been chopping the zucchini earlier to finish the task. “Hummus is one of my favorites. I could eat it every day.”

“Good.” Some of the tension eased from his body. “I’ll be sure to stock up on it so you’ll always have some.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled before shoving a carrot in my mouth, so I didn’t do something stupid like ask how long he thought he’d want me around.

Saint’s dark eyes were filled with anger as he asked, “Were things bad enough with your brother that he didn’t make sure there was food in the house?”

“Worse, I guess.” I shrugged, my cheeks heating in embarrassment again. “Vince blew through our rent money last month, and I’ve been staying on friends’ couches since then. They’re cool about it, but I already feel like a mooch. So I’ve been careful about what I eat until I could figure out how to save up enough to get my own place.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Saint slammed his palms against the counter hard enough that I would’ve worried about him damaging it if they weren’t made of marble.

“It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, Saint. It’s only been a few weeks,” I hurried to explain.

“Michael,” he corrected.

My brow wrinkled in confusion since I wasn’t following the direction our conversation had suddenly turned in. “Pardon?”

“My full name is Michael St. John. Saint is a nickname,” he explained. “But everyone else uses it, and you’re special. I’d like you to use my name instead.”

“Michael,” I repeated softly with a shy smile. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good. I’m looking forward to hearing it from you often.” He brushed a kiss against my cheek. “But for now, let’s table any talk about your brother since he’s my problem. Not yours.”

“Okay.” My eyes practically devoured him as much as my mouth did the snacks while he finished making our meal. He kept our conversation light over dinner, and I was grateful. Today had already been heavy enough, and the distraction of being able to talk about nothing important made me feel more comfortable by the time we were done.

The long day combined with too many restless and uncomfortable nights left me exhausted by the time we finished cleaning up the kitchen. “You ready to head to bed?”