Page 53 of Stranger to Love

But, like a tantrum toddler, I left the kitchen and headed back up to the guest bedroom. I shoved everything in my bag, but I wasn't a heathen, so I quickly made the bed as best as I could and folded the pyjamas she had given me the previous night. Then I stormed back down the stairs and to the front door, ready to fucking walk home.

Oh shit. She was a fucking psycho. I couldn't unlock the door without a key, and there were no fucking keys around. The ones she had put in a bowl on the table by the door were gone. Fuck my life.

I heard her step towards the hallway; even without heels on, her steps sent a shiver down my spine. I turned to her, visibly annoyed, as she leaned on the doorframe to the kitchen.

“Going somewhere?” she smirked.

“You’re a psychopath,” I groaned as I dropped my bag.

She smirked deeper, amused. "You are welcome to leave, I’ll even drive you home… if I can talk to your parents and make sure someone is keeping an eye on you whilst you… stay home from work.”

Just to be extra dramatic, I threw my hands in the air as I scoffed and leaned my head against the wall. What was I supposed to do?

Then my eyes widened. Because I had never heard that sound before. Keeping my forehead against the wall, I opened my eyes and looked at her. My heart gave a shocking lurch as I watched her cover her mouth. She was laughing. Actually laughing. Fuck, it was the best sound I had heard in a long time. It was lighter than her voice but still had a tinge of huskiness that made my stomach twist. I couldn’t help but smile and shake my head as I stood straighter and chewed my cheek as I sighed, “Guess I’m staying here then.”

She turned on her heel back into the kitchen without saying anything, but looking like she wanted to give herself a moment because she looked like a woman who hadn't laughed in a while, and the fact that my dramatics made her laugh made me a little warmer inside. Fucking hell, stop being all gooey.

I walked back into the kitchen and slumped back onto the chair I was in and leaned on my hand, looking at her. She was more composed then as she started closing down her laptop. “I’ll stay until my shift, but then I really do need to go to work.”

She closed her laptop with a slam and looked at me. “I’ll pay you double the amount your wages would have been tonight if you don’t go.”

Pardon? You fucking what?

I just stared at her. She raised an eyebrow imperiously at me, as if to say, ‘deal?’. My mouth went instantly dry, and I rubbed the side of my head. I knew I shouldn't go to work, but I couldn’t accept her fucking handout either. I rolled my eyes, deciding the last day had been fucking weird enough, so I might as well lean into it. “Well, I've never had a woman offer to pay me for my company before.”

She scoffed as she stood, moving to place her laptop in its sheath. She zipped it, then turned to me. “Do we have an agreement, darling?”

Okay, yeah, fuck yeah. The look she was giving me shouldn't stay, but I was so fucking turned on that I needed a cold shower. What sort of thing had I done in life that led me to be here? Held captive by this woman who looked like a supervillain but was so soft that she combed my hair before she told me goodnight? I was fucking screwed.

I gave her my best smirk. “Deal.”

Chapter 13

Alex

I was resigned to my fate.

Dr. Carter said she had some work to sort out, so I was pretty much left to my own devices, with her checking in on me every now and then to make sure I hadn't died from this fucking concussion. I went into her lounge; it was full of dark wood and soft furnishings. I settled on the largest sofa, my feet tucked up under myself and the laptop she had given me perched on my lap. If I was stuck in all day, I might as well get some work done. I even managed to work out the crazy TV remote and have some indie film playing in the background.

Dr. Carter knocked on the lounge door at about 1 p.m. Poking her head around the door, she said, “Lunch.” And disappeared again.

Nobody had ever said I didn't make myself at home. The sofa was fucking comfy, and the low lighting in the lounge was relaxing. I might have been there against my will, but I was no longer complaining, especially if she kept feeding me like she had done that morning.

I trailed into the kitchen, and, to my surprise, she had set up a couple of places at the dining table. I took the hint and sat down in front of one of the settings. I watched her glide around—because there really was no other explanation for the way she moved, purposeful and elegant. It smelled fucking amazing in there, and I was trying not to react like Oliver Twist, because it had been a long time since I'd had meals like that. Not like I was starving at home, not at all, Mum always made sure we had enough, but it was always so bland and with crappy, cheap alternative food. We did the best we could, but this stuff I could smell was fresh and must have been expensive.

Dr. Carter set a bowl down in front of me before placing the second onto the mat across the table. Returning to the kitchen, she retrieved a basket of warm rolls, bringing them back as she took her seat across from me.

She gestured toward my bowl with a subtle nod. “Is this alright? I can easily prepare something else if you’d prefer.”

Was she fucking joking? This looked even better than the bagel that morning. I shook my head instantly. “No, no. This smells amazing, thank you.”

She nodded, and I saw that little twitch of her lips before she took a spoonful of the soup herself. I dug in, willing myself to eat slowly and politely, even though the first mouthful shot right across my body as flavour exploded in my mouth. Was she a fucking chef or something? I tried to keep the sound in; I managed to divert what would have been a moan to a hum, and she smirked. “Good?”

“Seriously, good.” I chuckled as she offered me the bread bowl, and I eagerly took one, breaking it—it was still warm inside. I shook my head, “Please don’t tell me you made the bread too?”

She smiled again, that little smile that made my chest flutter. "I may have.”

I needed to stop getting to know this woman. It was not good for me. I felt like she was untying pieces inside of me that—what—were making me have emotions? Feel things? Fucking disgusting. But for fuck's sake, that softness in her was pulling me in.