Page 6 of Working Out West

“Will do, captain,” I teased, and then regretted it when he paused halfway turned back to the stove. Did I apologize? Did he not like people messing with him? Not that it was really messing, I was just trying to be cute.

Note to self: do not be cute with Adrik.

Shifting over to the table, I quickly took my seat. I anxiously bounced my knee up and down and jumped when Adrik set a bowl in front of me.

“Thank you,” I told the table.

“Welcome.” He took the seat at the head of the table with his own bowl, and we ate in silence. My arch-nemesis.

On the first taste, my mouth orgasmed. At least a part of me was getting action. The stew was melt-in-my-mouth delicious and the meat so tender. “You need to be a chef. Tell me you’re a chef. Your meals are amazing, and they can’t be just wasted on you and me. Do you cook for your family? Friends? They must rave about how incredible it is.”

I clamped my lips closed when I took in his stormy look.

If nut-punching myself wasn’t weird, I would do it.

“Sorry,” I said softly. “You may have noticed I tend to ramble sometimes. Just… I don’t know, shove something in my mouth when I say something you don’t like.” My eyes bulged out of my head when I realized what I’d said. “I mean a sock or a rag or a towel. Shove something like that in my mouth.” Why did I explain that? Now he knew my mind went to the gutter. I could tell he knew. The stormy look faded, and his lips twitched.

“My family is in Russia.”

Fuck me in the dark. That was a sentence. I wanted to pat him on the back and say, “Good boy,” but I knew it wouldn’t go over.

I didn’t ask about friends. I already presumed Adrik didn’t like to make them. It seemed he kept his private life very private.

I cleared my throat. “That sucks. Well, at least I get to enjoy your cooking.” I grinned and went back to eating, ignoring his stare.

We finished dinner, and after I cleared away, I plated two chocolate muffins. Adrik still sat at the table. He’d been watching me the whole time while I talked about my favorite movies. I dropped a plate in front of him and then sat with my own.

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing from his almost fearful look at the dessert. “It’s okay. It won’t attack.” Shaking my head, I smiled. “I’m sure your perfect physique could take a hit for one night. Maybe you could do an extra sit-up for it.”

His gaze lifted, along with one brow. “Perfect?”

Shit.

I waved a hand around and pulled my muffin close. “Doesn’t matter. Try the muffin. Please?”

He grumbled something but tore off a little from the top and popped it into his mouth. He sucked, chewed, and his eyes lit with something I hadn’t seen.

“Good?” I asked, totally searching for compliments.

“Da, perfect.”

I didn’t care he was teasing by using the word “perfect.” I was happy he liked it, and he even went back for more.

After we’d emptied our plates, I stood and went for his plate, but his hand snapped around my wrist, stilling me. My heart went haywire. My eyes drifted to his slightly larger hand on my skin—the skin that warmed from his touch.

“You cooked. I take plates,” he explained.

“Right… um, okay.” I nodded and swooned on the inside. I plonked back down on my seat, and I couldn’t help but notice Adrik slowly drew his hand away. All right, I was hyperaware of his movements, and when he walked by, I—like the stalker I was—took in a deep breath to take in his scent.

Fuck a blender, I had to stop obsessing over this man.

I stood. “Chess?” I yelled and winced.

“Da.” Hisdasounded lighter than usual.

“Right, meet you in the living room.” I bolted out of the room like my underwear was on fire. I wished this client, Adrik, was more than just company, and that wasn’t good. To busy myself, I went to his bookshelf and took a look at the type of books he liked to read. Only to curse under my breath because they were in Russian. Still, I searched for something I recognized.

“Oooh,” I mumbled to myself. “What do we have here?” I took a book off the shelf, and my mouth dropped open. It was a popular vampire book. A paranormalromancebook. One I had read billions of times over. I glanced back to the bookcase, but the one in my hand was the only one I could find. Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed it as much as I had. That would be tragic, because it was in my top five books of all time. Ones I reread when I was down, and they always brought a smile to my face.

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