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I didn’t do anything wrong, and yet it feels like I’m the one being punished. I’m the one who’s getting a headache right now just trying to make sense of things. I’m the one who’s locked up here in my room, hiding because I don’t know how to face Cain.
How do I face him?
I just know that things between us will never be the same. He may act like nothing happened and wish that was true, but something did happen. Now, each time I look at him, I’ll remember him kissing me. I’ll only think of him as that – the man who gave me my first kiss. A man.
Of course he’s always been a man, but I’m more aware of it now. He’s a man. A good-looking man with an amazing body who can jump from windows without blinking, who has lightning-fast reflexes, who can sneak up on anyone, who has super hearing, who can pick locks, who can disarm another man in the blink of an eye.
And I’m a woman. As much as I didn’t like being a girl growing up because I hated wearing dresses and leggings and ribbons and playing with dolls, I am a woman. Even though I grew up with boys, competed against boys during quiz bowls and trained with a lot of men in the academy, I am a woman. In spite of my short hair and strong features and the fact that I’ve never dated, I am a woman. My first kiss has made me painfully aware of that.
A man and a woman together. Not friends but not really strangers. He’s saved her life. He’s seen her in her underwear… twice. He’s helped her commit a crime. And he’s kissed her. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, they’re staying in the same cottage.
Thank God this is a two-bedroom cottage.
So I’m going to use that to my advantage and stay in my room.
I kick off my shoes, pull out the duvet under me and slip beneath it. Then I turn on my side and snuggle against the pillow.
Yup. I’m staying right here.
~
I can’t stay here, I realize after waking up from a nap to a growling stomach.
There’s no food in my backpack or in this room, not even a single candy bar, which means that if I want to quell my hunger, I have to go out.
I look at the door and frown. Do I really have to?
My stomach answers yes, so I get off the bed. I grab my purse and walk to the door. As I put my hand on the doorknob, I draw a deep breath. I sure hope Cain isn’t out there. I hope he’s in his room reading a book or taking a shower or whatever.
Taking a shower? No. I’m not going to think of that. Sleeping. He’s probably sleeping. I hope he’s sleeping. With his clothes on. Snoring. Drooling. Not sexy at all.
Not sexy.
I repeat that to myself as I open the door. I nearly go back when I see Cain on the other side of the room, in the kitchen area, standing over the stove. He’s wearing a black apron, which is tied loosely around his waist. My eyes automatically go from the knot to the tight ass molded against his jeans.
Damn. Has he always had those glutes?
Then he turns and I see him in that apron, a spoon caught between his lips. He licks it before talking.
“Hungry?”
“No,” I answer quickly as I look away.
In my mind, I repeat the words I told myself earlier like a mantra.
Not sexy. Not sexy. Not sexy.
“I went to the grocer’s earlier,” Cain says. “Figured we needed food. I’m making spaghetti Bolognese right now.”
So that’s what I’m smelling.
Wait. He can cook, too? Is there anything he can’t do?
“Do you want to try the sauce?” Cain offers me the spoon.
“No.”
“You need to eat, you know,” he tells me. “Look, I know it’s just a simple dish, not what you’re used to. I’m sure you’ve been to Michelin-starred restaurants and had personal chefs cooking for you.”
I throw him a narrowed, scrutinizing gaze. Is that what he really thinks of me?
“But hey, it’s dinner. And I’m confident it isn’t that bad. Thanks to some people I know, Italian cuisine is my forte.”
Of course it is.
“No thanks,” I tell him. “I’ll go and get myself some food.”
The last thing I need right now is to share a meal with the man who kissed me and acted like it was his worst mistake.
I walk towards the door.
“Wait,” Cain calls after me.
I ignore him and open the door. As soon as I do, a cold gust of wind sweeps in, pushing the door and me back. Rain sprays on my face.
What the hell?
“You can’t go out.” Cain closes the door. “Not in this weather.”
Right. The storm. Thanks to this morning’s incident, I’ve failed to notice that it’s already here.
