A square shaped device that resembled a newer thermostat was affixed to the wall beside it. Don’t ask, a small voice whispered in the back of my head, but my curiosity got the better of me.
“Is that a freezer or something?”
Alaric glanced over his shoulder, then followed my stare. “That leads to the basement.”
“Oh. I didn’t think houses in Cali had basements.”
“They’re scarce. I included one in my floor plans. I like to work in total seclusion. I concentrate better.”
“Um…what is it you do? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Even if I did mind, you just asked.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, busying myself with the remaining vegetables.
His soft laugh had me looking up again. “That was a joke. Not a good one apparently. You’re allowed to ask me questions Catalina. That’s part of getting to know someone.”
“I didn’t realize that’s what we were doing,” I muttered, regretting the words as soon as they fell from my mouth.
Alaric tilted his head to the side and regarded me for a moment, his smile remaining. “Are you always like this?”
“I’m sorry,” I stressed.
“Catalina,” he said my name in the same way he had the night we spoke on the phone, walking over to where I was standing with the swagger of someone who had all the confidence in the world.
Fingers wrapped around my wrist and applied a slight amount of pressure. “Relax,” he commanded, his tone dipping into the realm of harsh.
He nodded, and I glanced down to find I was gripping the cutting knife so tightly my knuckles had gone white. I released it immediately, grimacing when the handle collided with the cutting board.
I tucked my chin to my chest as heat bloomed in my cheeks. Not even twenty-four hours in and I was humiliating myself.
“I suck at things like this. I told my mom I wanted to stay at a hotel for this exact reason.”
“Hey,” he called softly, tugging my gaze back to his with an invisible string. He stared at me from beneath thick, dark lashes, the blue of his eyes an electric jolt to my system. The notes of his cologne overpowered the aroma permeating the air.
“It’s alright,” he soothed. “Besides, I think you did just fine.” He aimed a pointed stare at the cut-up vegetables.
I fought against a smile and failed. I appreciated him trying to make light of the situation. Suddenly realizing how close we were, I diverted my gaze and pulled away from him.
“What do I do now?” I asked, desperately needing another distraction and space between us.
“How about you just set the table?”
Anxiety had me by the throat while nerves weighed down my tongue.
In my twenty-four years of life, I had never once sat across from a man and dined with him. I kept telling myself this was no big deal. I needed to get my shit together.
The atmosphere wasn’t anything special. Alaric hadn’t dimmed the lights or lit the fancy candles expertly placed atop his large dining room table.
He’d even given me a wide berth as if he sensed I needed space from him, kindly serving me without complaint.
My issues had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me.
I gnawed my lower lip, unsure how to start up a conversation or what topic to discuss. Should I bring up Meg, or would he? I was saved from the dilemma when he broke the silence.
“I take it you like the food?”
Was this a serious question? The meal tasted as amazing as it smelled.
“That’s a bit rhetorical. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t be eating it.”
“And here I was thinking you were keeping silent to spare my feelings.”
I stabbed another piece of shrimp and wrapped it in pasta. “Why would I do that?”
“Because when someone wants something from me, they have interesting ways of trying to get it.”
“I don’t…I don’t want anything from you.”
“Don’t you?”
He propped his elbows on the table and stared at me intently, keeping his thoughts well-guarded and face void of emotion.
“No.” I sat my fork down and reached for the cloth napkin beside my salad bowl. I wasn’t sure where this had come from, but I didn’t appreciate it.
“What do you think I want? I don’t even know you. I’m here because of my sister.”
No reply came forth, he continued to study me. His heavy gaze kept me chained to the chair, causing a prickling sensation to begin moving up the back of my neck.
“Wine,” he said suddenly.
“What?”
“Would you like some wine?” He pushed his chair back and stood.
“I can’t—I’m not supposed to…” I shook my head with a sigh. “Sure.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Alcohol wouldn’t do me any favors and I wasn’t supposed to mix it with my medication, but I needed something. I didn’t see the harm in having one glass before retreating to the confines of the guest room.