LEAH
Despite the insane and stressful day I had, I couldn't help but stifle a smile as I sat at the dinner table across from James.
He had made me smile and even laugh after all the bad shit. As much as I tried to tell myself I didn't want to be here, James saved me today. I honestly didn't know where Foxy and I would have been now if not for him.
He was so calm and in control the entire day, despite blow after blow. It was terrifying how much he comforted me.
I didn't want to rely on him for that. I wanted to be fearless and secure on my own. Some part of me understood it was going to be a while until I felt okay enough to live alone again.
I was struck by a sense of Deja Vu earlier when James interrupted my noodle boiling. I felt like I'd been transported back through time to the first time I was in Jarrod's condo, when we made spaghetti together. Our chemistry overcame rationality and we'd lost all track of time. We burned the noodles and ruined everything.
My chest ached a bit at the memory. Then I remembered the night he recorded us having sex. Some of the betrayal and violation that simmered inside me that day I saw it on his phone still burned away at me now.
I scooped a bite of the creamy, cheesy pasta and stuffed it in my mouth, willing that painful memory away. The intricate flavors of different seasonings graced my tongue. This was no regular boxed Kraft or Velveeta.
My eyes flicked across the table. James chewed thoughtfully on his food, his attention on his phone. Even though I couldn't see his screen, I knew he was scrolling through work emails.
The man was largely still a mystery to me, but it didn't take but two brain cells to see how dedicated he was to his work.
"You know, you don't have to let work follow you after hours," I told him. "It's not good for the heart or brain."
James lifted his face and I was jarred to see it so completely devoid of motion. I was used to his openness after he'd been so sensitive and attentive today. Now, it was like his walls had shot back up.
While I was tempted to look away from his intense gaze, I forced myself to look more closely at his eyes, barely noticing the emotion whirling behind his emerald shields. Setting the device aside, he leaned into the table and clasped his hands together. A lock of hair rolled over onto his forehead. Ignoring it, he licked a drop of cheese from the corner of his mouth.
My heart crawled into my throat and stammered in a new, frantic rhythm.
How could one human be so breathtaking?
"I like being responsive to clients and we have a number who live in different time zones," he said. "It's what keeps me going. That is how I've been successful."
I gulped, reddening again at what sounded like chastisement. Well, fuck me for giving a damn about your mental health.
His upper lip twitched like he was refraining from a smirk as he said, "Secondly, who said I was doing work stuff, Miss Harris?"
"Well, I know you weren't scrolling through Instagram or swiping on Tinder," I countered while desperately trying to fight off the stupid blush staining my cheeks. "You just validated my assumption anyway, Mr. Muller. You're a workaholic."
"I use social media like any other modern person," he scoffed. "I need it for networking."
"Uh-huh." I smile, satisfied at finally ruffling his perfectly arranged feathers. "And who do you follow on Instagram?"
"Business contacts. Companies. Pages that hold information relevant to me."
"I think you're talking about your LinkedIn, Grandpa."
He gave me a scathing look that had me biting back a chuckle. James turned his head to the side to hide his smile.
"I knew you could handle a tease," I told him as I scooped up another forkful and jabbed it into my mouth.
His face turned back to me, his right brow quirked in amusement. The low, yellow table light illuminated the mischief in his green eyes. Swiping his tongue across his mouth, James dropped his gaze back to his food and forked more noodles.
"Are you enjoying the meal?" he asked.
"Very much. You're a good cook."
"I was in culinary school, once upon a time." He took a graceful bite while pushing the pasta around his plate.
Was the all-knowing, confident James Muller chagrined?
"You? In culinary school?" I gasped. "No way. You have way too much hair for a chef's hat."
I couldn't imagine his stoic, lean figure moving frantically about in a commercial kitchen. He seemed like the type who taught himself in college out of necessity. Then, later, he probably got into nutrition and learned to cook healthily.
James' mouth curved up into a small smile but he still didn't look at me.
I swallowed down another bite and set my fork aside. "So, what happened?"
"I always loved it growing up," he told me. "My grandmother and I bonded over it. It was our time. Jarrod never cared for it and Julia disliked anyone in our family who wasn't me or our father, so it was my way of being close to my last living grandparent. Anyway," he sighed, "I realized a few months into the program that I would hate cooking if I did it for a living."
"That's sweet, James. I'm sorry it didn't work out."
I couldn't help but stare at him in wonder. I knew he was capable of more than the cold moodiness he sometimes projected, especially seeing how he had taken me in after the break-in. But this introduced an entirely new layer to this man than I expected.
"It was for the best, really," he said with a shrug. "Cooking is a perfectly fine hobby."
"What was your grandma like?"
Sinking back against the chair, he smiled more genuinely now. "She was the product of a different era. Always had something kind to say, never met a stranger. The loveliest woman I've ever known. My mother reminds me of her sometimes. Rarely, but still."
I chuckle. "Your mother hasn't had it easy. Raising three kids is no joke."
"Fair enough. She had a husband, grandparent, and a nanny to help, though."
"A nanny? Damn, how nice." I can't imagine ever affording a nanny to raise kids . . . and that's assuming I ever even have some.
"It's probably not as you imagine," he replied with a shrug. "Anyway, I'm glad you like the food."
His remark shut down any room for questions and a blank expression fills his face once more. Rising fluidly from his seat, James reached across the table for my plate. I swat his hand away, smirking up at him. His eyes widened in surprise.
"You cooked," I remind him. "That means I collect and clean the dishes. You uncivilized animal."
He continued to just stare at me, stunned. I flashed him a grin before collecting our plates together and carrying them to the sink. While I soaped them up and washed everything, he broke out of his trance to wipe down the table.
"I've never been called uncivilized," he remarked, nearing me to throw the crumbs into the trash.
I smiled to myself and finished drying the last fork. "Well, now you have. I only meant it for fun, though. But if you want to be insulted, just download Tinder and set a timer."
At his silence, I glanced over to see if I'd offended him. He just looked confused, those full dark brows stitched together.
"Tell me you know what Tinder is," I said.
"I know what it is," he spoke a little too quickly.
I propped my hands on my hips. "Use that smartphone and do some research." Then, as I passed him on my way to the hallway, I patted his chest. Its firmness sent heat straight to my face again. I cleared my throat and looked toward the hall to avoid his eyes. "I'm going to bed. Let me know what you learn tomorrow morning, Mr. Muller."
The heat from his eyes trailed me out of the room and down the hall. I forced my hips not to smile. This wasn't the time or the place or the person. James was 100% off-limits.
So what that I hadn't had sex in a year and I was now temporarily living with the single hottest man on the planet? I owned a perfectly functioning dildo. My self-control was not great but I sure as hell would not be sleeping with another Muller man ever again.
As I turned into my assigned bedroom, I started to wonder if I should take my own advice. Maybe I should put myself out there again. It would help keep my mind off the holy hotness on the other side of this wall.
But I knew I wouldn't. I didn't feel like downloading a stupid app. I didn't feel like putting up with anyone else for the moment. My life was in a strange place, and I couldn't handle one more new element. I'd resisted my sexual needs for a long time now and I could hold out again—at least until I was safe again.
—(—)—
The sound of James stirring in the room next door woke me from my strange dreams. Sighing, I rubbed my eyes before reaching over to the nightstand, groping about for my phone. Once I unplugged it and lifted the bright screen to my face, I realized it was only six. Jesus, he likes to get up early.
Then I noticed a text that had come in late last night. Frowning, I saw my real estate agent's name and opened the message.
RE Agent: Hi, Leah. I'm sorry to tell you that the 2-bedroom cottage on Wilderness Rd went under contract this afternoon. I would be happy to send you more properties and schedule tours for any you're interested in.
Fuck. I dropped my phone to my chest with a groan. That was my luck. The house would have been perfect for me and Foxy.
I twisted over in the bed to lie on my side. My eyes wanted to cry but I felt like a wasteland. Parched like the cracking floor of the dusty, rust-colored desert. I just wanted a home again. Somewhere to feel safe and settled.
My alarm rang until I finally rolled over and off the spacious bed. For all my desires to escape James, I had to admit he spared no expense on comfort. I shuffled to the bathroom and started a hot shower. The heat seeped into my pores, my layers of dense tissue, and porous bone. I didn't feel any more prepared to face the day as I stepped out.
I dried my hair and dressed into jeans and a loose blouse. The familiar strips of makeup made their way to my cheeks and eyes. I smeared Nude Sunset across my lips. The smile on my mouth didn't reach my eyes—not even my flattened cheekbones.
Realizing that the mirror wasn't going to provide whatever comfort I needed, I shuffled out to the kitchen. The roasting of coffee beans perfumed the whole floor. I smiled a little more genuinely.
When I reached the kitchen, I headed right for the coffee machine. A figure stepped out of the pantry and I involuntarily shrieked. The figure was tall and lithe with a short bob of silky ebony hair. Her lime-green eyes reflected the same shock I felt.
"I'm sorry," she spoke softly. "I didn't realize James has a girlfriend."
I cleared my throat and shook my head. "We're not dating. You're Julia, right?"
I knew it was her. I recognized her from the funeral and pictures from Jarrod's apartment.
She came out of the pantry and placed a bag of organic wheat bagels on the counter. Completely comfortable like this was her house. "I am. What's your name?"
"Leah," I said.
Her eyes blinked, flooding with clarity.
A door closed and we both turned our attention to the threshold. James stepped into view. He glanced between us. His shirt was off, hanging from his shoulder, and his displayed abdomen and chest dripped in sweat. He was perfectly lean and etched with muscle.
"Well," he said, tugging his shirt from its perch, "what a pleasant surprise, baby sis."