Page 46 of He Has Charm

After sleeping late and getting through practice, I get home to find Harper working in the kitchen, and I can’t help thinking what a gorgeous sight she is to come home to. She looks up at me and it could go either way whether she’ll scowl or smile. My heart stutters when the smile breaks out. I return it.

“You must be exhausted,” she says, “after getting home so late and then having practice.”

I toss my jacket and bag aside and sit next to her at the island.

“I think I’m more hungry than tired,” I say, and in my head it’s her I want to eat. She gets my meaning and sucks in a breath, backing away. “I’ll cook.”

“You will?”

“Don’t look so shocked. Me and my dad used to cook together all the time. His specialty was pasta and meatballs, but—”

“Great, you should cook that.” She gives me a hopeful smile and I don’t tell her I haven’t cooked that in years because in a way, it’s the pasta and meatballs that killed my dad. That would be a downer and I’m appreciating her smile too much. I’m determined to keep the serious from her face today.

“You got it. I’ll do whatever you want, sugar buns.”

“I think that’s my line—I mean except for the sugar buns part.” She giggles. She actually frigging giggles and it sends a surge of warmth zipping around my gut and straight to my heart. And my heart loves it, maybe even needs her kind of medicine. But that’s wishful thinking and the road to disappointment. Maybe. I shove everything but the here and now aside.

“Let’s pretend you’re the client for the day and it’s my job to please you.” Watching the slow flush creep up her neck to her face sends my body into a different kind of rush. The kind where my dick is in charge. I clear my throat and promise myself to keep it clean.

“Okay.” She dips her head. “I… have to tell you something.” She looks up at me, serious. Shit.

“What is it?” I want to tell her she can tell me anything and it won’t matter because I seem to have a soft spot for her, but I don’t. The knowledge gets clogged in my chest in a big emotional ball and sits there.

“I went out while you were gone,” she blurts, her eyes wide and she looks away.

“And?” That can’t be her big confession.

“And I met some guys,” she says and I feel like she hit me in the gut with a hammer. But what do I say? I can’t say the first thing that comes into my head which is WTF with a strong hint of I thought we were in this monastic pledge together. We made no such joint pledge, except in my head I may have assumed things I obviously shouldn’t have and now I feel like I’m bleeding all over the kitchen floor.

“It was nothing—I mean nothing happened. Not that I needed to tell you or anything since we’re not… there’s nothing between us. Not really. Except our contract and we… shared that kiss.”

I’m aware she’s rambling, but I stopped listening after she admitted nothing happened and my heart started beating again at a normal rate, but there was a real stutter for a second and that’s not good. Then when she says that kiss, I snap from my close call with panic altogether and smile like it’s no big deal.

“No problem. I’m the one who made the promise to go off sex, not you.” I can afford to be gracious now that I know she didn’t do it. “Why didn’t you take one of those lucky guys home with you?” I’m aware I’m pushing it and not surprised when she scowls, but fuck it. I need to know her reason was me. Maybe I’m vain or narcissistic or conceited or self-absorbed, you name it, anything but emotionally involved, I just need to fucking know.

“I guess I wasn’t interested after all.”

“Why not?”

She lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Okay, if you must know, it’s because of you.”

Triumph fills my chest as if I’ve just scored the winning goal of the fucking Stanley Cup finals. I immediately bring it down a notch because that’s just batshit crazy. Not going there. Calm this shit down. What, am I now into rambling too? Jesus. I scrape my fingers through my hair and chill for a beat.

“I appreciate the thought. Nice to know we’re in this monastery deal together.” She smiles and nods.

“Yeah. Guess that’s the least I can do, keep you company being frustrated and miserable.” We both laugh at that and the air clears of some of that tension, leaving a sweet calm behind like the rink late at night after the game is over and everyone’s gone. The residue of excitement in the air is just enough to entice, but not enough to disturb your sleep later. After our eyes thoroughly connect like ravenous fools, drinking up all the satisfaction possible without touching, I look away first.

“Let’s see if I can cook a meal that will please you enough to make up for the other missing ingredients of our relationship.”

She lifts a brow. “I have to warn you. I’m a tough to please customer, all about perfection.” She gives me a mock stern look.

“Challenge accepted.” I take her hand and shake it. I’m reluctant to let her warmth go, but I do. Then I stand and leave to stow my things and change into an old T-shirt and sweats. When I return, I get to work checking the pantry for everything we need. We make a list of what we’re missing and she insists on going out to buy the items.

“Least I can do. You get busy prepping and doing whatever.” She waves a hand around the kitchen like a magic wand.

“I know you volunteered to go out because you don’t trust me in the wild without you,” I tease. “Afraid I may go off the rails on the way to the grocery store?”