Meet Cute (Love, Camera, Action #5) - Elise Faber Page 0,14

resisted the urge to cross my arms.

“I’m not going to force the pain pills down your throat.”

As if he even could.

And yes, that was delusion talking, considering this man could easily overpower me in my current state.

“I can FaceTime Dr. Stevens to confirm the pills are from her.”

I wrinkled my nose.

“I can promise they are, in fact, just pain pills and not some sort of illicit drug.”

“And that is exactly what an illicit drug dealer would say,” I muttered.

“So, FaceTime with the good doctor then?”

“No,” I muttered, grabbing the pill bottle from the nightstand and squinting to read the label with my still-hazy vision. Oxycontin, ten milligrams every four hours, and the issuer was Dr. Stevens. “What?” I asked, still muttering. “Does she give this stuff out like candy?”

“Don’t know,” he said. “This was the first time I’ve used her, but considering that there are only enough pills in there for three days, I doubt it.”

I kept squinting, saw that indeed the number eighteen was written under quantity. Then sighed and knew I’d lost this battle. My arm felt like it had gone six rounds with a flamethrower, and fatigue was creeping in to join my stuffing-filled head. I needed food, pills, and sleep.

In that order, even if my body was telling me that I needed it in the opposite.

“What’d you poison the toast with?” I grumbled, setting the pill bottle down and picking up one of the pieces.

“Only a little arsenic,” he said, playing along.

I chuckled, even though I didn’t want to. “Tasty,” I said dryly.

“I did my best. My personal chef has the night off.”

The toast stopped two inches from my mouth, my eyebrow went up.

“I’m kidding,” he said. “I like to cook.” A shrug. “I do have someone stock my fridge for me so it’s full when I’m home. But no chef.”

Hmm.

His fingers circled my wrist, pushed it closer to my mouth. “Eat, sweetheart.”

Flutters in my stomach, need sliding up my arm making my breasts go all tingly, my nipples harden against my bra, and I opened my lips, wanting to say something, to tell him not to call me sweetheart. But his hand was still moving mine, and the next thing I knew, the toast was in my mouth and I was taking a bite.

“Mmm,” I moaned.

God, it had been so long since I’d had this simple snack, and I’d forgotten how incredible it was.

“Good?” he asked.

I nodded, plowed my way through that slice, still sitting on the edge of the bed, Talbot still on his knees in front of me.

He picked up the mug of tea, passed it over. “Also, not poisoned,” he said before I could even come up with a protest to not accept it. Not that I could, the floral and spice scent was like nirvana, tempting my fingers to wrap around the warm ceramic. “Got it?” he asked, before taking his hand away.

“Yes,” I breathed, lifting it to my lips and drinking deeply.

After I’d sipped for a bit, he took it back, swapped it with the plate for the second piece of toast. Which I devoured, too.

“My mom used to make this for me,” I whispered.

Then immediately wished I could take back the words. I hadn’t thought about my mom in a long time. Not since—

“Mine, too,” he said softly. “When she was sober, that is.” Said so offhandedly that I immediately understood this was part of the whole shitty childhood that the whole world seemed to know—all except for me. Talbot’s shoulders lifted and fell in a small shrug. “I don’t know why, but it always tastes better when someone else makes it for you.”

That was true.

“Do your parents still live in Darlington?” he asked, before I could formulate anything other than a nod.

I shook my head. “They died quite a few years ago now.”

“I’m sorry.” His hand rested lightly on my knee, careful to not touch the abrasions, I realized, but not so high as to make me uncomfortable. The man had skills, that was for damned sure.

“Like I said”—I reached for the bottle of pills—“it’s been years now.”

“Doesn’t mean that stuff just goes away.”

“Trust me,” I said. “Sometimes it’s better that we pretend it just does.”

He went still. Very, very still. Then he reached for the mug, handing it to me when I took a pill out of the bottle and stuck it in my mouth.

I drank, swallowed it down. “Just saying, I’ll kill you if these are illicit drugs.”

“Noted,” he said, lips twitching as he set it