“But I didn’t.”
The stitches were indeed straight, and he was stunningly beautiful. And all of it was combining to create a situation, a moment that felt out of her grasp. That felt out of her realm of experience. Everything that he was stood completely outside of her life. And yet... Did it? Because he was the kind of man who had questioned what was in front of him, even though he had never been shown another way. And she had questioned what she had seen around her, as well.
They were fugitives from their families, as much as he was a fugitive from the law. And maybe it was abnormal to feel so much of a connection to a man that she had only just met, but nothing about them was normal. And yet, somehow they seemed to have plenty in common with each other.
“Well, you could’ve been seen.”
“And I would have said that I was doing some work for you around the place.”
“Well... Well. Fine. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
She was repeating herself because her real issues were lost in the actuality of being hot for him, and she didn’t know how she was supposed to hide that. Or if she should. Or could.
“I’m actually more than capable of taking care of myself. I know that you caught me at a pretty low moment, but I promise you, I’m not inept.”
“It isn’t that. I don’t think you’re inept. But I think you might have an overinflated idea of what you can handle.”
“Me? Never. I’m nothing if not entirely realistic about the things I can take on.”
“Which is why you brought... What? A knife to a gunfight with your brother?”
“Well, now, that was my mistake. I expected him to act like a brother. And not an enemy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t say anything about him. I don’t know enough.”
“I made dinner,” he said.
He walked up to her and slung the ax down, the head hitting the ground. Her head only came up to the center of his chest. He was just so large. So strong. She had realized that from the first moment she had seen him, but his strength had been so reduced in that first moment, that she hadn’t fully realized... All of that vitality. Everything he was. That had very nearly been snuffed out, and suddenly it seemed an unspeakable tragedy that it could’ve occurred. That he could have died somewhere out there in the middle of the woods, and she never would’ve met him.
It made her unbearably sad.
“You didn’t have to make dinner.”
“I’m a man who lives alone. I’m more than capable of rustling up grub when I need it.”
“You were also shot three days ago,” she pointed out.
“Yeah. But I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.”
He walked up the porch to the house, and she took a moment to appreciate the way his jeans cupped his backside. And his back. Broad and muscular, tapering down to a narrow waist.
“You’re not all that subtle.”
She jumped, feeling guilty. “What?”
“Nothing.” Then he chuckled. “You’re being a bit of a mother hen.”
And she felt guilty, because she felt caught looking at him. Even if he hadn’t said it.
“I’m not being a mother hen. I don’t even know you,” she said. “If you keel over and die the only inconvenience will be moving the body.”
“Come on now, Tala,” he said. “You don’t mean that.”
There was something about hearing her name on his lips that made her whole body feel shivery. “Yes, Clayton,” she said, his name on her tongue having the same effect, which didn’t seem fair. “I do.”
“Well, wait until you taste what I made for dinner before you commit to that.”
He pushed the door open and held it for her, and she tried not to breathe in when she walked past him, but she failed. Because what she wanted to do was inhale the scent of him every chance she got.
“You should have a shower,” she said. “And I need to figure out how to get you some clothes.”
He’d been in the same clothes for days, and no wonder he’d taken his shirt off. The one he’d come in was covered in dried blood. And had a bullet hole.
“Yeah, I just need to figure out a way to keep the stitches dry.”
“We can tape some plastic over them.”
“Good idea.”
And she was not going to offer to assist in the showering. She wasn’t brazen enough to do anything like that, but it was kind of a funny fantasy. Tala Nelson, helping a man shower. Being bold enough to offer. To put her hands on his body. On his bare skin all slick with water...
She swallowed hard. “What did you make?” It smelled amazing.
“Shepherd’s pie. Salad on the side. And some soda bread.”
“That’s... Insane. That’s insane. I thought that maybe you did up the Hamburger Helper.”
“No, honey, you don’t have Hamburger Helper. That would’ve required a trip to the store. And as I’m hiding out here, that was out of the question.”
“But you know how to cook... All that.”
“Like I said. I’ve been on my own for a long time, and I’ve learned a thing or two. A man ought to know how to cook for himself.”
“I don’t know that most men feel that way.”
“Spoken from personal experience?”
“Well no. But I... I watch a lot of TV.”
“You sound very proud of that fact.”
“Well, I wasn’t allowed to growing up. So soon as I got out on my own I watched... Years’ worth. More than my share. I’m a pop culture wizard. Granted, now I’ve settled into a few genres that I prefer. Initially I just watched everything. But I love superhero movies, and I love mysteries.”
“Have a seat.”
And she did. He went over to the oven and took the pie out, setting it up on the stove. He cut a slice, and her stomach growled. Then he dished up a salad onto the plate as well, and poured some of what looked like homemade dressing on top. “It looks fantastic.”
“Here’s how I see it,” Clayton said. “Any man who doesn’t learn how to cook himself a meal that he enjoys is waiting around for a woman he thinks ought to do it instead. But I’ve never seen the point in that kind of behavior. In my opinion, if you’re waiting around for a woman, you learn to cook a thing or two in case one of them is her favorite. You can’t wait around for somebody to fill holes in your life. And if you’re like me, well, you expect to spend your life alone anyway. And, I’m not going to spend my life alone and not enjoying the food that I eat. So there you go.”