Page 7 of Toasted

“Oh yeah? Where?”

“Winslow, Arizona.” She swung her fork in his direction, a look of glee on her face. “Was there for eight months.”

“Okay, I’ve got to ask. Why? Why so many places? And for short periods. You’re not on the run, are you?” He kept his tone light, so she knew he was joking. Kind of.

“You’re thinking about that Women Who Kill show aren’t you?” With a mischievous glint in her eye, she unleashed a playful giggle. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not about to get out my butcher knife and re-enact Psycho anytime soon. I move mostly because I can. I don’t exactly have a homebase like most people do. Growing up, my mom and I moved around a lot for her work. She passed away a while ago. No dad. No siblings. No grandparents. Cynthia was all I had and now, well ... you know what happened there.”

She shrugged again. Nonchalantly. As if having no one wasn’t a big deal. It was a big fucking deal. All his protective instincts kicked in. Instincts he never even knew existed until this very moment. The thought of this beautiful, smart, funny woman alone in this world was unacceptable. He needed to do something about it. He wasn’t sure what yet, but he would think of something.

“Are you not going to eat?” She nodded toward his plate.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied as he dropped his head and began filling his fork. “I’m glad you like Chinese. I wasn’t sure.”

“Probably because you didn’t ask. Same way you didn’t ask if you could come over.”

It was his turn to shrug, and he did so with a mouth full of food. She didn’t seem too upset about him being there. And after finding out she was on her own, she should probably get used to having him around. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to walk away from her now.

Like you had plans to walk away in the first place.

Of course he didn’t. He was already hook, line and sinkered for a woman he barely knew.

I can fix that. Well, the getting to know her part anyway.

There was no time like the present. With that in mind, he peppered her with more questions as they ate. Keeping things light, he decided to start with the subject of work. Work was a safe topic. He learned she was a web designer. One who clearly loved her job. He could tell by the way her eyes lit up as she talked about her latest project. How animated her hands became as she explained the evolution of technology and what that meant for her clients. Her passion was refreshing. All that enthusiasm was contagious, a bit like her smile. Another thing he had learnt he was a sucker for. Whenever she flashed those pearly whites at him, he found himself smiling back.

The next safe conversation topic was friends. After Zach told her a bit about the guys from work and his best friend Cody, she told him about Cat. Her best friend. They met when she was living in San Francisco. An English girl who apparently had to move back there. Libby didn’t go into details as to why, but if the sadness pooling in her eyes was anything to go by, she’d taken the loss hard. So he didn’t press her to talk about it. She didn’t mention anyone else significant, just a few people she’d met through work. But from what she said, he didn’t think they sounded all that close.

The more he learned about her, the more he liked. She didn’t take herself too seriously. She also seemed so happy in her own skin and more than comfortable spending time on her own. It was an odd concept to him. He was always surrounded by other people. Perhaps growing up in a big family with three younger brothers had something to do with that.

It wasn’t until the room sank into darkness that he realized just how long they’d been talking. Empty plates and boxes were strewn across the glass coffee table, long forgotten. As he glanced around at his surroundings, he noticed Libby shift in her seat. Maybe she had noticed how late it had gotten too.

Abruptly, she stood and went straight over to the eccentric Victorian lamp in the corner of the room that had caught his eye earlier. One pull on the chain and a warm, orange glow filled the room. But Libby was the only thing filling his vision. That face. Those legs. That body. Jesus. He needed to leave before he did something stupid. It was way too soon to hit on her. And the last thing he wanted to do was fuck something up before it had even begun.

It was time to go. Rising from his seat, he gathered up the trash on the table. “It’s late. I should get going,” he announced, only meeting Libby’s gaze as he placed the last empty container into the takeout bag he was holding.

“Oh.” She was on her way back over to the couch but stopped in her tracks at his declaration. Was that disappointment he could see on her pretty face? “Yeah, of course. Um, thank you for dinner ... and for the toaster. My mornings just got a whole lot better.” Her frown gave way to a beaming smile.

“My pleasure, princess.” He held her gaze for longer than he probably should. But she let him. And in that one look, he could tell she felt it too. Overwhelming, intoxicating chemistry. With enough sparks to blow a fuse. Or burn down a whole damn building. Knowing that would have to be enough for tonight.

Reluctantly breaking their connection, he blew out a heavy breath and turned toward the door. He heard her footsteps behind him. But it was only once he was outside that he turned back to find her gripping the glossy red wood. There was one last thing he had to do.

“Oh yeah, before I forget, there’s a fundraiser at the fire station on Saturday. You’re coming with me. I’ll pick you up around midday.” He felt his lips tug into a grin as he watched Libby’s eyebrows shoot up and her hands go straight to her hips.

“Listen, Zach. I don’t know how things work in Zachland, but in the real world, men don’t just click their fingers and women come running. Inviting yourself over for dinner is one thing. But this? This is something else entirely. You can’t just decide I’m going somewhere without actually asking me! That’s not how this works.”

An inferno blazed in her eyes, and it was turning him on.

Clearing his throat was his attempt at wiping away the smile plastered across his face. But he had a hunch it didn’t quite work. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the fire station fundraiser on Saturday?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You heard me. No,” she repeated.

“Can I ask why?”

“Because.”

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