Chaos & the Geek (Grace Grayson Security #1) - Elizabeth Stevens Page 0,20

or had noticed the drool I suspected was hanging out of my mouth.

“Morning…” he said slowly.

His eyes took me in quickly, no doubt from years of having to read a room for any immediate danger. As he did, his expression turned almost cheeky like he knew exactly what was going through my head. I was suddenly super certain he could see every single dirty thought I’d ever had of him. I looked at him just long enough to half-wonder if that excited him.

The nerves won out and I did that super wanky thing where I pushed my glasses up my nose as I averted my gaze and nodded. “Morning.”

“Coffee?” he asked, and I wondered if I’d just imagined a whole exchange between us.

“I can…” I started, gave up, then hurried over to the machine.

It seemed no amount of small talk one day prepared me for the next time I saw him. Each time, it was like I was back at square one trying to not be a dick so hard that I was an even bigger dick. It wasn’t surprising he was wary around me; I probably came across as idiotic bitch incarnate.

The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up and I snuck a look over my shoulder to see him leaning his hip against the other side of the counter, his arms crossed over that beautiful body, and watching me intently, like he knew something. As usually awkward as usual, I focussed on what I was doing and didn’t let his scrutiny get to me.

What had I expected if I was going to be living in his house? Of course there’d be awkward mornings and him taking me to bed and the need to talk to each other and me being a complete and utter tool. I was probably just lucky we hadn’t had more of it yet.

“Amber…” he started, and I actually jumped in surprise.

“Yeah?” I squeaked, cleared my throat and tried again. “Yep?”

“I just want you to know that you are welcome here. I’m happy to have you here. You’re not getting in my way and you can just be yourself.”

I nodded, having no idea what that tone of voice was supposed to be. It wasn’t quite the tone you use on frightened animals, but it was close. Imagine trying to get a wary dog to trust you but finding it amusing at the same time. That was what Kit’s voice sounded like.

“Thanks. I’m–”

I spluttered as I moved the damn milk jug the wrong way and it spat hot milk all over me. And of course, I dropped the jug on the floor for good measure, throwing hot milk all down my jeans’ leg. I stood in the middle of the floor, refusing to look at him while I took a deep breath. Out of pure instinct, I held up a hand to let him know that comments were not welcome. That move wouldn’t have stopped Patrick.

“Paper towel?” I asked slowly.

“What?” he asked.

“Tea towel?” I tried.

“Oh, right. Here.”

I turned to see whether my peripheral vision had actually been playing tricks on me. But no. Kit had just slid himself effortlessly over the top of the kitchen counter, dropped to a crouch, and was now getting a tea towel out of one of the drawers.

When he stood, we were standing very close together and I took the tea towel he proffered with one hand while I pushed on my glasses with the other – stop that! Our fingers brushed and my heart fluttered wildly. It wasn’t just nervousness, it was more. It was electrifying. My years of reading trashy romance novels gave me plenty of fodder for my imagination, but I could not think of Kit like that.

“Thanks,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as breathless as I felt.

When he said nothing, my eyes darted up and I saw the humour in his and the smirk that played at his lips. We were both still holding onto the tea towel, our knuckles touching through the flimsy material. My heart floundered hard in my chest as we looked at each other and I imagined a moment – half a moment – where he wasn’t my brother’s best friend and I could just openly ogle him to my heart’s content. And for even less of a moment, I let myself imagine the look in his eyes meant he felt the same way.

But my eyes fell as they usually did whenever I actually looked at him and I