The curved wooden slats are slotted into each other, the width as long as a trailer. I never thought Evan would live in something like this; I imagined something more… sleek, modern? Not this.
My feet move forward, one step at a time before they land on the first step that leads to the cabin. Two more steps and I’m right outside the door, lifting my hand to knock on the wood.
“Deep breath, Lexi,” I tell myself, shaking my hand out and then rapping my knuckles on the door three times.
The door swings inward and my head snaps up, my gaze zoning in on the naked chest that I’m graced with. The dips and curves of the defined abs slowly run down into a V before I come face to face with the black band of sweatpants.
I slowly move my gaze upward, my eyes connecting with his and flirting across his lips that are spread into a wide grin.
“I thought you’d never get here,” he says, his deep baritone invading all of my senses and causing goose bumps to disperse over my skin.
“I caught a bus,” I blurt out before heat rises in my cheeks as my gaze flits back down his chest and down to his bare feet.
Why are his bare feet so sexy?
“You did, huh?” His lips slowly unfurl from the grin he was wearing before his back straightens and his brows draw down into a frown. “I should have picked you up.”
“No, no… I’m okay.” I snap my gaze from his to behind us as I hear gravel crunching.
“Dean’s on the nightshift!” Ty shouts, looking at Evan and then at me before he turns his head to a waiting Kay on the steps of what must be their house.
Evan’s throat clearing has me spinning back around. “You gonna stand out there all night?” he asks, chuckling.
“Yes… no.” I laugh, taking the last step into his cabin. “I mean yes I’ll come in, and no, I won’t stand out here all night.”
He watches me as I step inside, the door shutting behind me as I take stock of the room. Because that’s essentially what it is… a room.
Computer screens sitting on a table with a lone keybo
ard are on my right, a big black, leather chair tucked neatly underneath. To the back is a small kitchenette, although a counter would be more accurate. A sofa sits in the middle, a small table in front of it and I skirt my eyes to the only door in here, which I presume leads to a bathroom.
“Take a seat,” Evan says, waving his arm out.
I nod, smoothing my dress down before stepping toward it and sitting down. I can’t stop my gaze flitting this way and that as he moves about the small space.
“I know I said I’d cook but… well… I’m not very good at that so I got Thai,” he comments, picking up the bag off the table. He sits down next to me, pulling out several boxes and opening them, setting them on the table in a neat, straight line before handing me some chopsticks. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a collection.”
Clutching my hands together in my lap, I stay silent, scared to admit that I’ve never tried Thai before. What kind of person hasn’t tried something so simple, and frankly something that smells amazing?
The scent of chicken, rice, and noodles wafts around us and my stomach growls as I pull apart the small paper that is joining the chopsticks together.
I pick up the first container, seeing some kind of chicken dish and pick up a piece, popping it in my mouth and closing my eyes as the taste explodes all over my tongue.
“Oh, wow,” I mumble, chewing it and turning my face toward Evan. “It’s delicious.”
“I know, right?” He grins at me before slowly wrapping his hand around my forearm, the pads of his fingers scratching against the smoothness of my skin as he brings the piece of chicken I just picked up toward his mouth.
I watch, fascinated as I see his tongue dip out slightly, licking along his lips as he places the chicken inside, his gaze not moving from mine as his thumb strokes the inside of my wrist.
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry before I move my gaze from his and look back down at the box of food.
I shuffle in my seat, squeezing my thighs together to relieve the sudden ache that I’m feeling. I know he notices because he moves closer, picking up another box and dipping his chopsticks into it.
How the hell can watching someone eat be so sexy? First bare feet and now eating? What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m inside my own head when we finish eating, not realizing that all the food is gone until his hand grips my knee, bringing my attention back to him.
“Hey,” he says, placing the bag on the floor. “You’ve been quiet.”