How You Get 'Em

Chapter Four

The house was dreary and depressing until the play button was pressed, and I closed my eyes, feeling a shiver rake through my body at the sound that burst through the speakers. Cooking was always a dreaded task without noise to keep me sane, and now that I had it, it was time to make those pancakes that were calling my name.

Ten minutes after prepping my breakfast was all it took for me to feel as if my heart ripped straight through my chest and down into the awaiting frying pan to sizzle with the butter. The bad thing about blasting music - especially songs with guitars, drums, and yelling - was that you couldn't hear assholes creeping up on you.

"Do you live in Harlem? You struck me as the Manhattan type."

A voice spoke as the song died down and ended, readying to play again. Whirling around and extending the hand that held the plastic spatula, I pointed it at Dash, daring him to take another step. He froze and beamed innocently at me, lifting his hands in surrender.

"Do you always break into people's homes and creep on them? You struck me as the halfway normal type." Glaring, the weapon was lowered as he lifted a key ring in his hand. He'd come through the backdoor, diagonal to the stove top, and who knew how long he'd been standing there, watching me dance and sing at the top of my lungs. His muddy boots were already off, sitting on the mat and droplets nearly dry on his sweatshirt, so it must've been a while.

"Is it still considered breaking and entering if I was given a key and asked to come over?"

My attention left him and focused back on the batter in the pan which was beginning to form bubbles, signaling that it was time to flip. There was no way my mother had asked him to come over when she knew she wouldn't be home. Or maybe she had and forgot. I didn't know the extent of their little friendship and Lord knew her memory wasn't as sharp as it used to be, but she'd still made it clear that I was to stay away from the man who'd come to stand a safe distance beside me, running his hands through his nearly black hair which was wet with water.

Be strong, Lee. He's probably not as yummy as he appears.

"When were you given this key and asked? And I hope you're not expecting me to make anything for you." Maybe being rude would get him to back off, I thought, willing myself not to fully turn to face him.

It was difficult trying to avoid eyes that were practically calling out for you to stare into their warm depths, but I managed to control my own, mentally cursing him over and over to hell. Did his precious fiancé know he was at her cousin's - who, let's not forget, wasn't wearing a bra and who he'd also kissed in more than a friendly manner - house?

Shit... Well, this is going to be interesting.

"No, I already ate," he chuckled, making me aware of his close proximity as he moved around the kitchen island to sit on one of the stools. My body hummed at the sound of his deep voice, and all the events from the day before, which I'd been trying to push to the back of my mind, resurfaced again. A moment of tension filled silence passed between us as I waited for him to continue speaking, and though I couldn't see him, Dash's gaze on my body brought a wave of heat to my face. What was this, middle school again? "I've been doing some work around your mom's house for a while now, which is why she gave me a key. I didn't have anything to do today and thought I'd stop by to check out the downspouts and car she wanted me to look at in the garage. If I would've known you could sing like that, I would've come a lot sooner."

He joked, but it wasn't amusing to me. Embarrassment flooded my mind at the mention of my singing. I knew my voice sounded like a screeching cat, and his joke wasn't appreciated - at all.

"Good for you," my jaw clenched. "And last time I checked, the kitchen isn't where you keep a car, so..."

The tone of my voice said it all, but Dash apparently had a hard time catching on to my dismissal. All I wanted to do was cook and eat in peace. Was that so hard to ask for?