Collide in Plain Sight

Chapter 2

"I just want you, Harlow." I say honestly. She scoffs at me and rolls her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest. 

"There are a million ways you could have gone about it and you choose this?" she snaps at me and I can't stop the grin from spreading across my face. 

"You're right. My methods are kind of fucked up. But my intentions are good." I say. Her shoulders slump and she tips her head back against the door, her eyes glistening with tears again. 

"Are you going to hurt me?" she asks, her voice timid and quiet. 

"Never." I say firmly. The mere thought of hurting her makes my whole body roil with disgust. She looks at me hard, like she's gauging my honesty. 

"Come on. I'll make you lunch. You must be starving." I say, motioning her to follow me. 

"I'm not hungry." she practically snarls at me. I'm not used to hearing such venom in her tone. She's usually so calm and sweet, but I can find myself enjoying this side of her. Her pushing back, challenging me. 

"Are you sure? I have everything to make your favorite." I say, coaxing her to follow me again. 

"My favorite? How would you know what my favorite is?" she asks. 

"You rarely order food for delivery. Maybe once a week to ten days. Out of the last twelve times you ordered, nine of them were the same thing. It was an easy assumption." I say, a weird pride in my voice. I watch as the color drains from her face. 

"Have you been stalking me?" she questions, but I just shrug. 

"Stalking is kind of an ugly word. I prefer.... Admiring from a distance." I say cheekily. 

"So, yes. You've been stalking me." she says, clearly not amused by me. 

"Yes." I say succinctly. 

I told her I'd be honest with her. 

"What else do you know about me?" she asks, almost like she's scared to know the answer. 

"Everything." I reply easily. Because it's true. 

"Like, what I like to eat?" she asks and I nod. 

"What you like to eat, what you like to wear, the way you like things to look, where you work, your everyday schedule. Well, you're old schedule. I know you don't have many friends, that you'd rather spend a Saturday night binge watching TV and eating salmon teriyaki, sushi and shrimp tempura than going out with friends. I know you've never met your father and that your mother passed away young from an aggressive form of uterine cancer which is why you decided to have a hysterectomy, rather than risk the same thing happening to you." I finish my spiel and watch her reaction. She goes quiet for a long while before she speaks again. 

"How did you get my medical information? That's private." she says quietly and I nearly laugh. Nothing about her has been private from me since I figured out where she lives. But she doesn't need all of that information right now. 

"There are some unfair advantages of being wealthy. Being able to buy information is one of them." I say simply. She looks around the house again, before looking back at me. 

"Where am I?" she asks. 

"Arnoult Mansion." I reply, watching as her brow furrows in adorable concentration as she thinks. 

"Arnoult? Like the ice cream brand?" she asks, making me grin. 

"Yes. But my family started with dairy farming. Through the years we ventured into other businesses before my grandfather took an interest in technology. Computer parts especially. We even did work with NASA. But now we're focused more on clean energy. This house was built in the 1880's by my great great grandfather. He built it for my great great grandmother, Etta. This was her favorite place to come in the spring. She loved the flowers. So he built her this house." I say, walking carefully towards her and grabbing her hand gently. 

"Come on, sweetheart. We can talk more over lunch. You need to eat." I say, but she grabs her hand away from me. 

"I told you, I'm not hungry." she snaps. I sigh in return before turning towards her and shrugging. 

"Alright. But the chef said the tuna would only stay good for so long so I need to make the sushi. Feel free to join me in the kitchen whenever you'd like." I say, going to walk away from her before her sweet voice rings out from behind me. 

"The chef?" she asks. I turn back towards her and nod. 

"The one I had flown in from Japan to teach me how to make your favorite food. I even make my own miso soup. It's pretty good, considering it has tofu in it." I say, scrunching my nose a little at the thought of the bland, spongey substance. I swear I almost see a smile flit across her face. 

"You learned how to make sushi for me?" she asks curiously, cocking her head to the side as she appraises me. 

"Of course." I say simply. "I wanted it to be even better than the restaurants." I admit, feeling my face flame into a blush. I don't say anything else, I just head towards the kitchen hoping that was enough to bribe her into following me. 

I pull out everything I need to make her lunch, starting the soup on the stove just as she wanders into the kitchen. I smile at her and pull a chair out for her at the breakfast bar so she can watch me cook. I hear her stomach start to grumble as the smell of the salmon cooking wafts through the room. I give her the soup to start, and place more food in front of her as it finishes cooking. To my intense delight she eats everything, seeming to enjoy the meal. She watches me closely from across the counter as I make myself a sandwich. 

"You're not going to eat this?" she asks and I shake my head. 

"No. I hate sushi." I admit and this time she really does smile. Even if it's a little one, I'll take it.