Page 17 of Bottles & Blades

But she was embarrassed by them, I saw it in the way her shoulders sagged when she spotted what could barely be considered a mess before she hurried by them, heading to straighten up her laundry.

I turn my back on them now, set the bag I brought on that small slip of counter, the bottle of wine beside it.

Then I release her hand and pull out what I brought.

Meat. Cheese. Bread. And…

Ice cream.

Her mouth parts, and though I don’t hear the shaky exhale, I see it in the trembling of her bottom lip.

“Everyone should have ice cream,” I murmur.

“I—” She shoves back a strand of hair that’s fallen in her face, and I see what’s been nagging at me.

The dark circles under her eyes.

The pale skin beneath the blush.

The fatigue that seems to cling to her bones.

The—

Her stomach rumbles, and even though her hand moves to cover it, the sound is unmistakable.

She’s hungry.

I nod toward the only door—besides the entrance to her apartment—in the space. It’s open, a steamed-up mirror visible. “Go get your pajamas on,” I order.

“Jean-Michel?—”

“PJs, buttercup.”

Her eyes flash with something, but I ignore it. Ihaveto ignore it.

“PJs.”

“But—”

I step close, cup her cheeks in my palms, and tilt her head up. This time I hear it, the shaky exhale. This time Ifeelit on my skin, that trembling puff of air.

“PJs.” It’s a rasp, but coupled with a gentle shove back, she finally nods and turns away, walking to a beat up dresser shoved against the far wall, opening a drawer with a soft screech.

I watch as she snags some clothing, moves to the bathroom.

She darts a glance over her shoulder at me, lips parting again.

Click.

Then the door is shut.

In an effort to distract myself from the fact that her robe is no doubt sliding off, exposing all of those dangerous curves, that naked silky skin, I focus.

Ice cream in the freezer.

A plate from one of the cabinets that I fill with the salami, with several pieces of bread I saw off the loaf with a dull bread knife. I use an equally dull knife to cut hunks of cheese and set them next to the bread and meat.

I’m just washing the last knife when the bathroom door opens with a softsqueak.

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