“Why do men pretend that they’re not in pain when they clearly are?”
“Because we don’t like being fussed over,” he answers with a small smile.
“See, that’s the strange part about it,” I say, cupping my latte. “Men love being fussed over. I’ve never heard so much whining as when a man is sick.”
A gleam of challenge lights his eyes. “You’re missing the key factor.” Macon sets his cup on the table. A bit of creamy foam clings to the corner of his lip, and he licks it away with the tip of his tongue. “We only do that when we expect our women to kiss and cuddle us, then tuck us into bed.”
I blame the steam from my latte for the hot tightness over my cheeks.
Macon’s gaze zeroes in on them, and his lip curls upward. “So unless you’re offering?”
“Remember the cauliflower, Macon. My aim is stellar.”
He huffs out a laugh. “Didn’t think so.” Then a speculative look enters his eyes. “You got a boyfriend who might give you a hard time over this arrangement?”
I smirk into the well of my cup. “A little late to be asking that, don’t you think?”
“Wouldn’t be my problem,” he says with a shrug. “I’m simply curious.”
“My last relationship ended a few months ago.” Ah, Parker. He’d been perfect on paper: cute without being intimidating, nice without being challenging, a successful marketing exec with his own condo. He liked giving oral and didn’t fall asleep directly after sex. Always a plus. It also had been too easy to let him go, which means it had been the right thing to do.
Macon sits back in his chair and rests his hands on his abs. “What happened?”
“We didn’t suit.”
“Didn’t suit.” He sounds skeptical as if he assumes I’d been dumped and was embarrassed to admit it.
I set my cup down with a sigh. “He snored.”
Macon barks out a laugh. “You dumped a guy because he snored? Jesus, Delilah, everyone snores now and then.”
“I know. I’m not a total jerk.” I glare at him when he raises a brow. “I’m not. You weren’t there. This was not normal. He snored so badly his dog would run out of the freaking room and cower. The neighbor would pound on the walls, for pity’s sake.”
Macon chortles, grinning wide. “And he didn’t know?”
“The man slept like he was in a snore-induced coma. Meanwhile, I couldn’t sleep a wink with him around.” A shudder passes through me at the memory—like a chain saw meeting a boulder. “Maybe if I’d been in love with him, it would have been different. The sex was great, I’ll say that. He was very good with his—”
“You really don’t have to elaborate,” Macon deadpans.
I fail at hiding my smile. “Anyway, if I couldn’t even spend an actual night with him, how could I maintain a relationship that was doomed to never move forward? And you?” I counter, wanting the spotlight off my romantic failures.
“I can safely report that no woman has accused me of snoring.”
“Har. Har. You know what I meant. You have some girlfriend who’s going to look at me funny when she finds out I’m living here?”
His tone becomes droll. “I’d hope any girlfriend I’d have would trust me enough to hire a female live-in chef, but no, I haven’t had a girlfriend since . . . well, your sister.” His mouth twists as if tasting something off.
“Truly,” I squeak, not believing it. Ten years, and no other close relationship with a woman? It’s both a crime and slightly horrifying to learn that Sam has been his only girlfriend. Did she break the mold for him? God, I don’t want to be here knowing that.
Thoughts of Sam have my insides coiling tight. I wonder where she is and if she can feel my ire like a chill on her back.
He pulls a face. “I’m not cut out for long term. It’s no fun for me. I’d rather go for casual dating, frankly.”
Now that I can believe. But Sam fills the space between us like a ghost. All right, more like a poltergeist; Sam would never be the type to quietly haunt.
“I am truly sorry about Sam, you know,” I say to Macon. “I’m so ashamed of what she did.”
His eyes dart between mine, a small frown forming. “She doesn’t deserve you, Delilah. She never did.”
My answering smile is tight and bittersweet. “And yet I still love her. Go figure.”