Strong Enough

He looked confused for a moment and then he sniffed. “I don’t smell anything.” After setting his keys on a shelf, he removed his shoes and lined them up neatly against the wall next to a few other pairs. I left mine along the wall too and followed him into the kitchen.

He turned on the lights and gestured toward a round wooden table, which was surrounded by four chairs. “Take a seat. Let me just get some lights on and then I’ll get you something to eat.”

“You really don’t have to.”

He pinned me with a stare. “I know.”

My insides tightened. Is this what Ellen had meant by gruff? I kind of liked it—the intimidating look in his eye, the no-bullshit tone, the way he said how things were going to be and wouldn’t listen to arguments. It was sexy as hell.

Derek disappeared through an archway, and a light came on in the next room. I looked around, taking it all in. From the polished wood floor to the dark-stained cupboards, to the light stone counters to the glass backsplash tiles in different shades of green, the room looked like something from a magazine. And it was so clean! Everything shined—the stainless appliances, the marble counters, even the green apples in a bowl on the table. Were they even real? I was leaning over inspecting them when Derek returned to the kitchen.

“You’re probably hungry enough to eat plastic, but don’t eat that fruit.”

I laughed as I straightened up. “I wasn’t sure if it was real or not. This kitchen could be a movie set, it’s so perfect.”

“Thanks.” He went over to the big white sink and washed his hands. “It was quite a project, but I’m happy with the way it came out.”

“Did you do it yourself?” I asked, impressed.

“Most of it.” He rinsed the soap from his hands and dried them with a towel that had been folded on the counter. “Which was probably why it took so long, but I never trust anyone to do a good enough job. I’m a little bit of a control freak.”

I nodded. Ellen had said that exact same thing while we were waiting for him to arrive at the bar, but I didn’t think I should mention it. “Could I use the bathroom, please?”

“Sure. It’s right over there.” He pointed toward a door off the back hall.

“Thanks. Be right back.”

I went into the bathroom, pulled the door shut, and looked at myself in the mirror a moment, trying to imagine what someone like Derek saw when he looked at me. It wasn’t terribly encouraging. My hair was messy. My eyes were bloodshot. My face had the pale, sallow look of someone who hasn’t slept or eaten well in a couple days.

And my heart was beating faster than normal.

Good thing he couldn’t see that.

Five

DEREK

He seemed so young.

Maybe it was just because he’d needed rescuing tonight. But even beyond that, there was something youthful and endearing about him. The way he’d stared out the car window at those crumbling old theaters. The excitement in his voice when he talked about coming to California. The way he wasn’t being a dick about his bag being stolen at the bar. It made me feel bad that I’d grumbled so much about helping him out. Poor guy—what shitty luck he’d had, getting robbed when he’d barely gotten off the plane. He had to be exhausted as well as hot.

Hungry. I meant hungry.

Not that he wasn’t attractive. A person would have to be blind not to appreciate the perfect symmetry of his features. The vivid hue of his eyes. The chiseled jaw. It was an objective fact: as human beings go, he was nice to look at. No harm in admitting that. Nothing sinful about it. And as someone who was fitness conscious, I could see that he kept himself in good shape and appreciate the work it took. I didn’t have to feel bad about it.

Frowning, I concentrated on seasoning the strip steak I’d taken out of the fridge for him. I heated some oil in a pan, and when it was ready, I threw the steak on. It sizzled noisily.

I wondered how old he actually was. What he did for a living back in Russia. Whether he was single. How long he’d be here. What it was about life there that made him want to escape. The weather? The economy? The politics? I hadn’t been this curious about someone in a long time.

From around the corner, I heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on.

It felt a little strange to be alone in my house with another man. I liked to entertain and had friends over for movie nights or dinner parties pretty often, but I couldn’t think of one time it had just been me and another guy here hanging out. Most of my good friends were married now, and had been since I’d bought the house. I’d never even had a woman sleep over. Gabrielle and I had split before I got the keys.

I’d actually been on the verge of proposing when she’d seemed to snap, suddenly convinced I didn’t really love her. Of course, she didn’t see it as sudden—she claimed there had been distance between us for months, and she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Fragments of our final argument pummeled my brain like a hailstorm—her demands and accusations, my questions and pleas, and then finally, the sad dissolution.

Be honest for once.