jeans, a fitted white tee, and a pair of barely-there nude sandals with a strap around the ankle and another one across the toes. The shoes had heels, of course; a girl could only go so casual.
A heavenly smell tugged her into the kitchen, and she found Grim standing at the stove. She stopped in the door to admire the view. Holy beefcake, he was glorious. She loved the tough, rugged look of him, the stern expression that belied the tenderness underneath, the way his fiery hair brushed his wide shoulders, the cut and perfection of his muscular body. She loved the protective streak that ran through him a mile wide, his commitment to whatever he set his mind and energy to, his solid good sense and unassailable honor, his sun-gold eyes and deep, mesmerizing voice.
She loved him. She loved his stubbornness and bossy nature, although it drove her to distraction at times. Most of all, she loved who she was with him—more than a pretty face and a perky picker-upper. He made her happy, not the other way around. He gave and didn’t take. In turn, she wanted to give him joy and laughter, not out of guilt or obligation, but out of love.
He had seen her at her purple whatzit worst and hadn’t run the other way. She loved him for that, too. And she ached to sooth the loneliness, grief, and guilt she sensed inside him.
Grim turned as though he sensed her presence.
“Hungry?” He gave her a look that made her breasts tighten.
She nodded, too ravenous to speak, and not for food.
He looked her up and down, taking in her jeans and tee shirt and her skimpy sandals. Heat kindled in his gaze. He liked what he saw, and Sassy liked that. Gracious, she was giddy with desire, and all the man had done was look at her. She wasn’t wearing makeup, her nails were peeling and torn, and her hair was damp. Yet he made her feel beautiful.
The air was thick with sexual tension. Her body tingled with awareness. She’d never felt more desirable or alive. If this was a dream, then please, God, let her sleep.
She stepped out of the doorway and crossed the kitchen to the wood and granite island. Grim’s gaze on her was a warm caress.
“Do you like my new jeans?” she asked, sliding onto a bar stool.
Her voice sounded husky and her skin glowed with fairy light.
“I should like them better off you,” he said. “Were you mine, I would have you. Here. Now. On this surface you call a counter.”
Oh, my. Sassy’s heart skipped a beat, and she clung to the island to keep from falling off the stool. The man had moves, and the look in his eyes made her blood burn.
Evan loped into the kitchen, breaking the spell. And a good thing, too, before she spontaneously combusted.
“Something smells good,” he said. “What’s for eats?”
Sassy was hungry, too. It seemed like days since breakfast.
Taryn joined them and they gathered around the table for a late lunch. The food Grim had prepared was simple but good: three fat chickens rubbed in olive oil and roasted with herbs; carrots, onions, and potatoes; and brussels sprouts from the freezer.
Evan turned up his nose at the sprouts, pronouncing them rabbit food. Fresh bread slathered with butter rounded off the feast.
Grim ate a whole chicken and half of another, an entire loaf of bread, and two helpings of veggies. The man could tuck away an astonishing amount of food.
After they finished eating, Taryn disappeared upstairs to take a bath and Evan announced he was going for a walk in the woods.
“And if I happen to run into the witch, so much the better,” he said with an evil grin.
Grim went outside to check on the shield. Sassy was cleaning up after the meal when the house phone rang. The sound startled her. For a smartphone junkie, she’d detoxed quickly. If someone had told her a week ago that she could go for hours, much less days, without her cellular addiction, she wouldn’t have believed them.
But here she was, a pickle princess enjoying the simple domesticity of washing dishes, disconnected from the world. No cell, no laptop, no Internet, no television. She didn’t miss any of it. Who had time for any of that?
The phone jangled again. Sassy dried her hands and yanked it out of the cradle. Probably Mama, she thought. Clutching the receiver to her chest, she took a deep breath.
“Hello,” she said,