by a sudden rush of nerves that make me unable to find the words necessary to formulate a coherent sentence.
Ran is in his garage, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his dark hair when he catches my eye. “And you think that old clunker is safer than my bike?” He settles the helmet on the handlebar. “Come on, let’s cook up some grub.”
“I thought you lived in an apartment,” I say, trailing him in through the laundry room that is located off the garage. It fans out into a small family room with an attached dinette and substantial kitchen next to it. There is a row of stairs just to the left and a fireplace separating the living and dining spaces. “This is not an apartment.”
“Okay, it’s a townhouse.” He lifts my jacket from my shoulders and I realize I’m still wearing the one from the ride along. “You don’t need this observer jacket anymore. I’m not going to let you get away with just observing me in the kitchen—as enticing as that might sound.”
“You’re not making me dinner?” I say, binding my arms across me and pouting my upper lip. “I actually have to participate in this ridiculous food preparation?”
Ran pulls open a kitchen drawer and retrieves two aprons from within it. He knots one around his neck and extends the other my direction. “Moments are better when they’re shared together.”
“Did you get that from a Hallmark card?” I laugh at him outright.
“Okay. I’ll give you that one. Not my best.” He clasps my hand—for the third time today—and spins me toward the fridge. “Go get all of the things out of the produce drawer while I preheat the oven.”
“What are we making?” I ask. The refrigerator is fully stocked with more food than I’d expect to find at a bachelor pad.
“Stuffed-crust pizza. Sound good?”
“Yeah,” I say. My stomach growls in agreement. “Sounds amazing.”
We spend the next half hour chopping up toppings, rolling out dough, and decorating our personal pizzas until they look like masterful pieces of artwork rather than dinner. Ran doesn’t let me do any of the actual cutting, referencing the unfortunate scissor-waking incident, saying I’ll have to work at gaining his trust with sharp objects. I feign offense, but quickly forget my annoyance as I watch the way his biceps flex under his t-shirt with each rock of the knife against the cutting board. Even his forearms pulse with each movement.
“We’ve got twenty-five minutes until it’s time to dine.” He pulls at my fingers. “Wanna watch some Wheel of Fortune?”
“Is that show even on anymore? Vana’s gotta be like my grandma’s age by now.”
He gives me a sweet smile, not his typical flirtatious grin, and for some reason it affects me more than his usual, confident smirks.
Though his living space is larger than an apartment, there’s still not room for a full-sized couch, and in its place Ran has an oversized loveseat. I glance toward it, realizing he’s going to take up more than his fair share of the cushions and I’ll be forced to sit nearly on top of him. I think the floor might be a good alternative.
Just as we’re heading toward the chair, a shooting tingle slices through my leg and I fumble forward, lose my footing, and I slam onto Ran’s back so my cheek is pressed up against his shoulder blade.
“You okay?” He spins around on his heel and steadies me with two firm palms on my shoulders. “You alright, Maggie?” His eyes sweep over me.
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
“It’s your leg,” he says, glancing down at my thigh. “I want to take a look at it.”
I shake my head quickly and the room blurs around me. “No. That’s not necessary.”
“Yes it is,” he presses. “I’ve seen the way you favor it, how you won’t put your weight on it completely. It should be healed by now. Let me take a look at it.”
“You’re not getting my pants off.” When I say it, it’s as though actually speaking the outrageous words paints my face with the red pigment of humiliation.
“I—” Ran begins.
“That sounded different in my head. You’re not taking a look at it. It’s fine.”
Ran shakes his head just as vigorously as I did, but he doesn’t look dizzied by the act. He’s always so in control. “No. I’m looking at it.” In one rushed movement, Ran swoops me off the floor and lifts me into his arms, like I don’t weigh more than a feather. He takes measured strides across