“But you aren’t,” Red said.
He was staring at me with defiance in his eyes, like he was daring me to tell him the truth.
It was… really fucking hot.
Red had never had any idea how sexy he was when he was assertive.
“Does it have something to do with why you said you were ‘hiding out’ here in Amberfield?” Red asked, cocking his head to one side.
“It’s amazing how smooth you are when you’re trying to get people to talk,” I said.
He shrugged. “I own a bar. I talk to people for a living. Now tell me why you’re hiding out.”
It had been a week since Red and I had shared the heated phone call late at night. Since then, I’d sent Red multiple text messages, reassuring him that he could still back out of filming a porn video for me if he wanted to, and telling him that I didn’t care if he changed his mind.
But he’d held fast. Not only did he want to shoot the video, but he wanted to do it right away, so he could have the money to pay off some tavern bills and repair some things. We’d agreed that he would come over today and we would make the first attempt at shooting the video, but all week I’d been silently wondering if Red would actually go through with it.
Now here he was. Already challenging me, after he’d been here for less than five minutes.
I took a deep breath. “Let me go shower, and I’ll… tell you the Reader’s Digest version of what’s been going on.”
“No Reader’s Digest version,” Red said. “I want to know all about it.”
My fucking heart. How did Red still care about my silly, self-inflicted problems? I didn’t want to be pitied, but God, I had to admit it felt good.
“Fine,” I said. “C’mon, Bandit.”
I unlooped Bandit’s leash from around the tree and the three of us headed inside.
After scrubbing down every inch of my body in the shower, I walked back out to the living room to find Red attempting to train Bandit to roll over.
“He’s never going to be able to learn that,” I said, running a towel across my wet hair.
“Have some faith,” Red said. He held out his hand, bringing it over Bandit’s head in an attempt to get him to roll over. Bandit just looked up at him, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
I laughed.
“He’s going to do it one day, I’m telling you,” Red said. He stood up and crossed over to the kitchen with me.
“I don’t have anything fancy, but I was going to make myself a sandwich before we got started. Turkey and swiss. Want one?” I asked.
“I’d love one.”
Red watched as I assembled our sandwiches. “If I’d have told you ten years ago that you’d be making fresh sandwiches one day, you’d have laughed in my face.”
I smiled. “I was a pretty big instant ramen fan back then.”
“I couldn’t even convince you to make stovetop mac and cheese,” Red said. “You said it was too much effort.”
“The microwave was my best friend,” I said. “Now I’ve barely even used this one, other than to reheat pasta. That’s an even bigger change than my sobriety. I’m a new man.”
I took our plates and we sat down at my small dining room table.
“Well,” Red said softly, “all of the good things about you are still the same.”
“Oh really? And what are those supposed good things?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Mostly your kindness, I think,” he said.
That same squirmy feeling crept up in me with the compliment. I didn’t know whether I wanted to launch across the table and kiss him or run away and hide in a cave forever.
I shrugged a shoulder, trying to act casual. “Yeah, right. We’re both aware I’ve got more than a little attitude.”
“Oh, no doubt,” Red said, nodding. “You can be a total shitheel sometimes.”
I snorted. “Thanks.”
“But underneath all of that, you’re a really kind person.”
His words sank into me. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had told me they thought I was kind. Unless I was providing them with free alcohol.
Now my cheeks were getting hot again. “Thank you,” I said.
“And of course, you’re whip smart, and hot as hell. But those are more obvious,” Red said.
I froze in place for a moment. He’d said it casually, then just taken a bite of his sandwich. Like he hadn’t just given me some of the biggest compliments I’d had in years.
I put my sandwich down on my plate. “You are way too nice to me,” I said.
He glanced up at me. “Maybe I’m just buttering you up,” he said. His eyes were so fucking inviting, warm and playful and driving me absolutely insane. I pulled in a breath, feeling like a deer in the headlights again.
“Buttering me up?” I asked. My cock was definitely getting hard under my pants now, and there was nothing I could do about it.