I see her relax. She finally locks eyes with me and nods. Then she takes my hand, and we shake.
10
Two days later…
Morgan
I knock on his back door and let myself in. Then I climb the stairs that lead to the living room and kitchen. It’s more of an entertainment area, complete with a wraparound balcony with a magnificent sea view. “Hi,” Lyre says as I appear at the top of the stairs. He waves his hand even though there’s a fork in it.
“Hi.” I bounce on the balls of my feet. It smells amazing inside this house. It looks like some kind of pasta dish on Lyre’s plate. “Oh good, glad to see you’re staying away from the salad. Good call.”
“I’m not staying away from the salad.” He points to a bowl half full of the stuff. “I try not to eat like this every day, that’s all. I need to work to stay in shape.”
“I’m sure,” I mumble, not believing a word. I watch as he breaks off a piece of garlic bread and puts it on his plate. My mouth waters. I remind myself that I have a chocolate bar waiting for me outside at my lookout spot. I’ll be fine. I realize I’ve been standing there for too long. “If you don’t mind…” I point at the bathroom door.
He nods. “Of course.”
I head in and empty my bladder. Then I wash my hands and go back out. “Thanks,” I say, noticing a second plate. It’s piled high with pasta – the creamy, ‘naughty’ kind, the yummy kind. There’s also some salad and a huge chunk of garlic bread. I notice a second glass of wine. “Oh shit! Are you expecting company? I’m sorry, you should have said something. I would have…” I could have used the bathroom in the spare bedroom down the hall. Lyre prefers it if I check in with him when I come in the house. Otherwise, we’re back and forth texting each other. He worries about me – cue eye roll. Truth be told, I do it to check on him. I won’t tell him, he’s a little sensitive.
“It’s yours, Morgan.” He points at the plate.
“What?” That’s so sweet. “I can’t!” I shake my head. “I have to—”
“You can,” he insists, leaning back in his chair. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans. His feet are bare. I always think non-humans are gorgeous, but I never find them attractive. I know it’s weird, but it’s true. Lyre is an exception to that norm. I don’t like it. “You should eat. You’re outside watching me. You can do that from in here as well.”
“I’m not watching you.” Maybe I have watched him a little. Maybe that’s why I’m touchy about his comment. “I’m watching out for her. There’s a difference.”
“If you say so,” he says, scooping up a mouthful of delicious-looking pasta and putting it into his mouth. He makes a sound that… I don’t like how it makes me feel. It’s been too long since I dated. I haven’t had a boyfriend…ever. The job doesn’t allow for it. The same sound also makes me feel even hungrier. “Sit and eat. Then you can go back out there to watch me.”
I make a noise of exasperation. “For the last time, I’m not watching you, Mr. Arrogant.”
“Still stubborn, I see.” He winks at me, managing to look even sexier. The bastard. “Would you like me to leave the curtains open a little later so that you can watch me sleep?” He winks again.
“I’m sure the harpy would love that.” I wink back. “Your girlfriend must be missing you by now.”
He scowls. “Don’t!”
“You started it.”
“I’ll stop.” He points at the chair across from him at the table. “Please.”
“Okay, a quick bite, and then I’d better get out there. I can’t watch for her from here. It doesn’t work like that.”
“I know, but fifteen minutes won’t make a difference.”
I take a seat. Oh my gosh, but it smells so good. My stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten anything that didn’t come from a wrapper or a five-minute takeout joint since the shitty chicken salad at the hospital. I look longingly at the wine.
“It’s a vintage Pinot,” Lyre points out.
I shake my head. “I have to pass on the alcohol. I’m armed. I can’t shoot that harpy in the head until you’re done with her, but I might have to shoot her in both her legs to stop her from making an escape. That means I need to be able to aim. I need to have fast reflexes. I’m a bit of a cheap date, I’m afraid.”
He puts his knife and fork down and pours a glass of water from a jug on the table. There are lemon slices floating in the water. Too much of this, and I won’t want to go back to my lookout point. To that shitty motel with the scratchy towels and the lumpy mattress. Hey, at least it’s a roof. I literally don’t have the funds to stay there for too much longer, so I won’t complain. I just hope we catch the harpy soon, that’s all.
“Thanks,” I say as he puts the glass down in front of me. I stick my fork into one or two of the pasta pieces, scoop up some sauce, and put the bite into my mouth.
Then I squeeze my eyes shut and groan. This is probably the best pasta I have ever eaten. I lick my lips and open my eyes, still savoring the rich flavors.
Lyre is looking at me strangely. I’ve seen him look at me like that before. It was…it was when he saw me in his shirt. He liked what he saw. I think it might have been lust in his gaze then. I think it’s lust again now. He has this heated look in his eyes, which are focused on my mouth.
He blinks and then sips some wine. The moment is gone.
I take a bite of the garlic bread, and it crunches, my mouth filling with the taste of buttery goodness. I groan again; this time, I also do it to see if it affects him at all.
Nothing.
He doesn’t even look. I could have been wrong. I shouldn’t care. I’m not going there. This is too important, and I don’t trust Lyre. I don’t trust non-humans in general. It’s not personal. “This is delicious,” I say. “I didn’t see anyone deliver take-out.” I know it’s probably wrong of me, but I find it hard to believe that this man cooked this food. I mean, he’s a heart surgeon, and he looks like that. It wouldn’t be fair if you added ‘fantastic cook’ to the resumé as well.
He gives me a side-look stink-eye. “I can cook, you know.”
“I’m impressed.”
“My mom taught me everything I know, and I enjoy watching cooking shows.”
Cooking shows? I want to laugh and tease him, but I find it quite…sweet. A big, burly guy who enjoys watching cooking shows. A big, sexy man who enjoys cooking.
“I can cook too…sort of,” I blurt.
“Sort of?” He smiles. He has a great smile. His green eyes light up. The green is such an unusual color. They’re not that washed out green, that kind of brown but kind of green but kind of not. They’re a gorgeous emerald green. Bright and striking.
“I can cook anything that can be made in a baking tray or a large pot. I’m not an only child. There are six of us.”
His eyes widen. “Six…wow!”
“My brothers can all cook as well. We all had to chip in. I would have made a mac and cheese. I probably would have made too much.”