Page 31 of Day Break

I took a little longer doing my hair, drying and curling it with the blow dryer and iron that I’d found in one of the upstairs bathrooms.

There had been makeup there too, but most of it was too old to salvage. But I had found some lip gloss and mascara that was still good, and I applied some before heading down for dinner.

Lane stood on the back patio at the grill in shorts and a T-shirt. The smell of the steaks hit me, and I felt my stomach growl. Thankfully, I was still out of earshot of them.

“There she is,” George said cheerfully. “How are you feeling?”

“Rested,” I answered with a smile. “I’m sorry if I worried you.” I sat next to George, who was sipping on a soft drink. He’d told me that he allowed himself one a week, but this was his sixth soda since I’d been there.

“Lane, get Chloe a soda.” George waved his hand.

“I can—” I started to get up, but George put a hand on my arm. “Sit, let me have a look at you.” He turned towards me, running his eyes over my face. “You’re too thin,” he said as Lane set a cold soda in front of me.

“I know.” I sighed. “The last time I saw a doctor, they didn’t seem too worried. Then again, it was a male doctor and some of the things I was worried about…” I suddenly realized I was giving too much away and shut my mouth. “They didn’t think it was an issue.”

Both men were looking at me, waiting for me to say more.

“Those steaks will help,” I joked, wanting to lighten the mood.

Lane turned back to the grill as George patted my hand again. From there, thankfully, George began asking Lane a series of questions. I had no idea who they were discussing.

Byron came and laid his head on my lap and then spit out one of his balls. I tossed it across the yard until the food was set on the table.

Steaks as big as my head filled the plates, along with baked potatoes and grilled asparagus. I ate every single bite.

It was only after I was finished that I realized Lane hadn’t accosted me with questions. George must have warned him not to bother me. Or maybe he felt guilty about me passing out earlier.

Either way, I wanted to assure him that it had nothing to do with him. Well, maybe a little, but not enough that he should be afraid to talk to me.

For the entire meal I could tell he was actually avoiding talking to me, even though I could feel his eyes on me whenever I wasn’t looking in his direction.

After everyone was done eating, I got up and started clearing the dishes. George excused himself to head up to bed, leaving me along with Lane. I tried to busy myself by cleaning up, but as I started washing the dishes, he appeared beside me and took the wet dish from my hands and started drying it.

I was shocked. I’d never seen a man willingly lend a hand around the kitchen. I had seen men grill meat over an open fire, but never had any man in my life so much as washed a dish, let alone dry or put them away.

“What?” Lane asked with a slight frown on his lips.

“I…” I blinked a few times and tried to swallow the shock of the situation.

Lane shrugged. “You look as if you’ve never seen a man doing dishes before.”

“I haven’t,” I answered too quickly.

Lane smiled. “The magical dish cleaning fairy that comes to my place each day doesn’t fly out this far,” he joked and, suddenly, I was more relaxed around him.

We worked side by side cleaning up, and I had to admit, when he dried the last dish and put it away, I was sad and worried at the same time. Now what?

I’d never had an easy time being around attractive men. Okay, truth. I’d never had an easy time being around any man.

All the men in my past had caused me pain and made me feel small. My past experiences should have warned me away from all men, but they hadn’t. I still felt my heart flutter whenever Lane’s hand brushed mine. I still laughed at the jokes he tossed in my direction, jokes that weren’t meant to belittle me, such as was the case in my past.

“I saw some brownies in the fridge,” Lane said, leaning against the counter. “What do you say we grab one each and head out to sit around the firepit?”

I watched him serve up two huge portions of the brownies that I’d made earlier that morning, then he took a bottle of red wine from the wine rack that was built into a cupboard and grabbed two glasses.

“You take the brownies, I’ll grab the wine,” he said as he motioned to the plates.

I took each plate and followed him to the door. He nudged the glass door open, and Byron followed us outside.