Murder_ A Sinful Secrets Romance - Ella James Page 0,41

walk into the kitchen and I think he seems distracted as he looks around. “Sit down if you want.” I pull out a chair. “I’ll get our plates. I’ve got chicken tetrazzini casserole and some seasoned green beans, plus rolls.” I keep my gaze away from him as he sits at the table. “What kind of drink do you want? Dr. Pepper? Water? Tea?”

“Water is fine.”

I pour him some water, me some sweet tea, and focus on making our plates. “Green beans?” I ask, glancing at him.

“Sure.”

Damn, his shoulders look wide in my little chair. His wavy hair, the way it curls around his nape…

I swallow. Have I always been this reactive, or is it because I’ve subjected myself to such a long dry spell? I press my thighs together. “So what have you been doing over in that lair of yours?” My voice sounds unsteady and husky. Damn. I swallow as he looks over his shoulder. I can see a smile flirt with the corner of his mouth.

“Lair?” he asks as I heat up his plate in the microwave.

“Lair: a secret or private place in which a person seeks seclusion.” I infuse my voice with confidence so he won’t know my heart is pounding 90 percent of the time that I’m around him.

I bring his plate and glass to the table, sweating slightly, even though it’s not hot in here.

“Oopsie, silverware.” I take some pieces from the drawer and set them in the correct places on the table. “Sorry I don’t have a placemat or anything. I’m pretty low-key these days.”

“I am too.”

My footsteps on the floor are the only sound as I get my own plate and glass and cutlery together and sit down across from him.

I pluck a napkin from the holder at the middle of the table. I feel painfully shy as I look over at him.

He laughs.

“What?”

He flashes me a dimpled smile. “Your face.”

“My face?” My tone and countenance are light and teasing, but my body has gone cold.

He nods, forking some pasta. “So expressive.” He brings the bite to his mouth and chews, and as he does, his own brows arch up toward his hairline. I laugh at him.

“Speaking of expressive…”

He swallows. His eyes widen. I watch him lick his lips, pretending that it doesn’t make me hot. “Shit, this stuff is good.”

“You doubted me?”

“Guess not,” he murmurs. He swallows some water.

“Thanks for joining me. It’s nice to hang out when we’re not trying to bash each other’s brains in.”

He gives me a wondering look.

“Too violent?”

He smirks. “No. You’re just…”

I flush.

He looks down at his plate, then up. I see his shoulders sink on an exhale. “You’re very welcoming,” he says finally. He looks slightly puzzled.

“It’s a compulsion. Like early Christmasing. Which by the way is not as bad as people make it seem. It’s all about fun, and what’s so wrong with fun?”

I watch him biting back a laugh. And then he fails and grins.

“So anyway. My family doesn’t live here and neither does my BFF. Mom lives in Memphis, and my older brother Rett is a teacher in Jonesboro, which is South of Nashville. My bestie Jamie lives in Nashville, too. If you’re not careful,” I warn, getting up to get some wine, “I’ll end up adopting you just like any other bear, and you’ll get hooked on my cooking.”

I grab some white I chilled the other day, plus two glasses, using the bustling to hide my aching awareness that he hasn’t answered. I’m coming on too strong. I used to never get a vibe like that from guys, but I guess my looks excused me then.

I sink back into my chair. I sit up straight and cross my ankles underneath the table, determined not to let this dinner devolve into something awkward.

“Where does your family live now?” I ask, pouring some wine. “I don’t think you said… Your dad and brother?”

He pauses with his fork almost to his mouth. “They’re all in California right now.”

I want to ask about his mom. Are his parents married? Is it just the one brother? But I don’t want to sound like an interrogator. I wrack my brain for questions that don’t seem so pushy.

“So how’d you end up in the Army, if you don’t mind my asking?”

He licks his lips and lifts his eyes to mine.

“Here—have some.” I push a glass his way. His hand closes around the stem.

“My Dad was in the Navy,” he says. He takes a swallow and again, his eyebrows