Page 33 of Bones

Her questioning gaze dropped from me to the bowl and back again. She pointed at me again and then to the toppings. It took me a few beats to realize she was asking what I wanted.

“That’s yours,” I said. “Fix it however you want.”

She looked at me with furrowed brows before handing the bowl back. I wondered if she didn’t trust the food, but she went up on her toes to grab a new one from the cabinet and ladled half a scoop in. It was barely enough to cover the bottom of the bowl.

“No.”

At my firm word, her face paled, and she froze.

Christ, I really am a dickhead.

I rushed on to explain before she decided to throw the chili at my face and haul ass. “You need to eat more than that. You’re starving.”

I can feel it.

She looked confused again but didn’t protest when I added more—but less than I’d originally given.

I moved out of her way and got drinks, but my eyes kept returning to her. I was tempted to drop some ice cubes down my pants because I’d been right earlier. Seeing her in my clothes triggered something primal and carnal in me. I could barely see her body in the oversized pants and the baggy hoodie that hung down to her knees, but it was somehow sexier than any overpriced lingerie.

Not that I wouldn’t want to see her in that, too.

I dragged my focus from thinking about what was under those clothes in time to notice she was carefully picking through the pico. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head and held up the spoon with small pieces of jalapeño.

“Shit, I wasn’t thinking. I can make a quick batch without the peppers, but the chili itself has a kick.” I thought about what else I had stocked.

There wasn’t much.

Like most people who worked in a restaurant, my home meals were whatever I could shovel into my mouth with minimal dishes and effort.

“I can throw together a quick vegetable soup,” I offered. “Or a frittata. Frozen pizza. I think I have a couple of Uncrustables left.”

A shadow passed her expression as I spoke, but it was gone just as fast. If it weren’t for the fact I could feel her sudden hollowness, I would think I was seeing things. Before I could ask what was wrong, she smirked up at me. I didn’t need our connection or words to know it was teasing.

And not just in the way she intended.

“What?” I asked with fake defensiveness when what I really wanted to do was kiss that smile—something that’d earn me a deserved kick to the dick, hot chili to the face, and her running. “Uncrustables are damn good.”

She gave me a laugh that wasn’t as good as the one she’d given Victoria, but it still made my chest puff out with pride like I’d accomplished some great feat.

“What can I get you instead?” I asked.

She held the eye contact as she dumped the spoonful of jalapeño chunks onto her chili.

“I take it you like spicy,” I noted as she went back to digging through the pico. “I can slice another pepper. Or there’s hot sauce in the fridge.”

She nodded.

“Which one?”

She nodded again.

“Both. Got it.” I handed her the bottle of hot sauce, then ducked outside to grab a pepper from the garden, dicing it before fixing my own food.

Once seated at the small table, I aimed my face toward my bowl but lifted my gaze to watch her eat. I could’ve openly stared since her own attention seemed aimed anywherebutat me. She took a small bite, and my body tensed.

No matter what name I went by, where I lived, or what else changed in my endless existence, food was at the center of who I was.

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