Page 36 of Love Galaxy

“It’s soup.”

“Soo-p.” I test the word. “Soup.”

“Thatdoesn’t translate?”

I shake my head.

“Huh. Then you won’t know how it’s supposed to taste.”

I eye the soup suspiciously.

“Sit down,” she insists. “Eat. It’s been a long day, after everything that’s happened, and I’m sure you’re hungry?” Her voice rises at the end of her statement, making it sound more like a question.

I am indeed hungry. “There is only one bowl,” I observe. “You are not eating with me?”

“What do you mean? This is your kitchen. There’s only one of everything.” And she gestures at the single chair.

“No—” I look where she indicated. Thereisonly one chair. There should be three. My brothers do not visit often, but a few times each year they come to the southernmost border of our farm to help me with major repairs and upgrades I cannot complete by myself. “That is not right. Somebody has taken my chairs.” My spare bowls. My spare cutlery. My spare everything.

Was I so distracted by Briar that I failed to notice my missing furniture?

“So the bedroom you said I could get changed in isn’t supposed to be an empty room?” she asks, eyebrows raised in… anger? No, examining the evidence of her voice and the fact shehad been smiling a moment ago, I think this frown is one of confusion.

“It is not— What?” It is as though my translator takes a moment to understand her words, but when I finally realize what she has said, I stride to the spare room and open the door. Aside from Briar’s bag, it is completely empty. “There should be two beds. A table. A washstand.” I hurry to my room. Thankfully, my bed is still there, so too is my table and washstand. Also the missing table from the spare room as well as two cameras. “This is John Smith’s doing.”

“You don’t say.”

“But I did say.” I frown.

Another one of her beautiful laughs. It fills the kitchen, making the room feel somehow smaller, more welcoming.

“Sorry, I was being sarcastic. I’ve got a strong feeling that we can shout at Mr. Smith all we want, but he won’t be giving us your missing furniture back until filming ends.” She sighs. “Come on, let’s eat before the soup gets cold. We can take turns sharing the bowl and the spoon. And the chair.”

Chapter Twenty

Briar

Sorin sits down, then looks at me expectantly.

I push the bowl of soup closer. Not that I blame him for being hesitant to start. I don’t want to eat it either, despite my stomach rumbling for the last few hours. The soup has a distinct smell, and it isn’t appealing.

Still, he doesn’t start. Instead, he gently tugs me closer to him, until I’m sitting on his lap again, my back pressed to his front. “We are sharing, are we not, Briar?”

My name in his voice sends tiny ripples of pleasure through my body.

I open my mouth, but for a heartbeat, no sound comes out. All I can think about is how good it feels to be sitting here again, in the circle of his arms, comforted by the warmth radiating off his bare chest. “Yeah,” I eventually manage, like the true intellectual I am.

“Then we will share.” He picks up the spoon and directs it toward my mouth. For a guy with four arms, he apparently doesn’t have the best hand-eye coordination—or more probablyhe’s never practiced feeding someone else before, because he misses my mouth and instead tries to pour soup down my chin.

I grab hold of his wrist, keeping most of the soup on the spoon before my dress is ruined. Not because I liked the way he went all googly-eyed when he first saw me wearing it, I try telling myself, which is a lie. But I do also want to keep the dress clean because I packed my duffle bag in a snit and didn’t do such a great job remembering that I needed multiple days’ worth of clothes.

He remains still, just letting me hold his wrist. He’s so much bigger than me, he could easily break my hold. I can’t touch my thumb to the tip of my longest finger. But he waits patiently like an absolute gentleman.

Bloody hell, Sorin is a good guy. Probably the nicest man I’ve ever met.

And it’s honestly a little fucking embarrassing how desperate I am to be held by him.

For a second I let myself pretend we met the old-fashioned way—through a dating app. Maybe we’d seen each other’s photos and swiped right. Maybe this is our second date. Maybe we’re still getting to know each other, but we’re both feeling pretty excited about where our relationship might go.

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