“Want something to drink?” I asked casually.
“Sure.” Her voice was equally casual.
I walked over to the kitchen and she followed me. I pulled the refrigerator open and removed the pitcher of water my housekeeper had prepared for me. It contained refreshing slices of lemon and kiwi in it. During one of our conversations, Willow had told me how much she liked fruit infusions, and I took note of it.
“Did you prepare that for me?” she asked as she took her seat on one of the stools at the island’s counter.
“My housekeeper did,” I said as I poured her a tall glass, and slid it over.
She accepted the glass and drained it in an instant. “You took classes on how to make a girl fall in love with you, didn’t you?”
I grinned at her. “Are you falling in love with me?”
“Answer the question. You have, haven’t you? Tell the truth. Otherwise, how the hell do you know to be so attentive to a woman?”
“Maybe it’s because I’m crazy about you,” I said softly.
For a moment I thought she was going to be serious with me, but she shook herself and laughed again. “Or maybe you’ve been married, or at least been in a long relationship. You failed at being attentive in the past and now you’re making sure you don’t make the same mistakes with me. I’m not complaining, but I’d like to know if that’s the case.”
I took a sip from my glass as I watched her curiously. She had been just like this in the past, chatty and making up entire stories in her mind. Of course, I had been an all too willing audience.
I placed my glass on the marble counter, and locked my gaze on hers. “I’ve never been married, or been in a committed relationship either.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Sandra says you might have a secret family in New York, and you’re here to get away from a nasty divorce.”
My eyes widened with surprise.
Her hands shot up in defense. “You can’t blame us for trying to figure you out. You’re a mystery. How can you be so great in bed, be that good looking, that successful, that attentive, and yet still be single? It doesn’t make any sense.”
A memory of her as a young girl popped into my mind. She had walked in the rain to my house. ‘What are you doing?’ I had asked, shocked to see her soaked to the skin. ‘I brought you this,’ she replied holding out a bunch of wild flowers. ‘I had already picked them for you and it didn’t make any sense not to bring them over.’
“She’s right, isn’t she?” Willow demanded, pulling me out of the memory of that rainy day. That was the first time I kissed her.
I cleared my throat. “You’re beautiful, and you’re considerably great in bed too. Why are you single?”
Her mouth fell open for a couple of seconds as she probably struggled to decide on what part of my comment to respond to first. Eventually, her finger went up in the air. “First of all, I’m twenty-three so it’s quite normal that I am still single, and secondly, I’m considerably great in bed? I should be offended at that, but I think this is the first time you have teased me so I’m honestly more affected by the discovery that you have a humorous bone in your body. I thought you were just calm and serious and not much fun.”
I laughed again. “You didn’t complain about me not being much fun when I was inside you.”
“Oh, and now you’re out-right bragging too. I’m not sure I like this side of you.”
I headed over to the counter, lifted myself onto its surface and studied her. She was so beautiful when she glared at me like that.
“Are you smiling so sexily now because you think it’s going to placate me?”
“Is it working?” I mocked.
She paused. “Yes, God freaking damn it.”
I laughed out loud then and she looked stunned. The laughter died in my throat. “What?”
“I’ve never heard you laugh like that. You’re always so guarded. Come to think of it, you’re completely different today. Is it because we’re in your home? Are you more comfortable here?”
“You could say that.” I nodded.
Her eyes softened. “All your life you’ve had to act stable and unfaltering on the outside, haven’t you? I know the feeling.”
“How so?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. You have to tell me deeper things about yourself first.”
“I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But first I need to know what you want to have for dinner. I’ll talk as I cook.”
“You know how to cook?”
31
Caleb
I thought back to all the prison noodle meals I had managed to put together due to my skills with an electrical outlet, clippers, and the guts to drop a live wire into a cup of water. And then there was the years living with my dysfunctional parents, of course. I’d learned how to survive on pasta made with butter and tomato puree.