Page 48 of Bracing The Storm

What the?—

It takes me a full minute to make sense of the display before me. When the penny finally drops I laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Patrick asks, startling me.

My gaze flicks in the direction of the open door on my far left. It’s the pantry. I’ve only had a peek inside but it was enough to give me a clear picture of the mysterious housekeeper. Not only is she as efficient and organized as the president’s personal assistant; she’s clearly a fan of stocking up food for all kinds of occasions and emergencies. Like if an asteroid hits Earth and we’re forced to live inside our home for the next five years or until the thick layer of dust has settled and the air’s safe to breathe again.

Patrick’s standing at the door of the pantry, holding a bag of pre-packed brownie bites in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. I don’t need to ask what’s in that cup because the smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon wafts over, and damn, it smells so delicious I would probably sleep with him just for a little sip of it.

Blame it on my low blood sugar.

Or maybe it’s simply the fact that he looks delicious in a pair of jeans and a snug black shirt that emphasizes his bulging muscles.

“I thought you were only eating salad,” I say, ignoring his question.

“It’s Saturday. I need nourishment to keep me going through the night.” He winks meaningfully and, balancing the bag on his arm, pops a brownie bite into his mouth. No need to ask him to clarify. He’s young, insanely attractive, and the worldisprobablyhis oyster. Or at least half of the female population. The other half is either still in diapers or in a nursing home.

“Of course,” I mutter, my good mood instantly replaced by irritation at his insinuation. “Can you—” My voice breaks at the way his gaze seems to be glued to the front of my shirt. I can almost feel his touch on my skin, his hands caressing the two beads until they’re perfect peeks begging to be sucked into his mouth.

My nipples harden instantly.

Patrick’s brows shoot up. “Can I do what? Actually, I’m pretty sure I can.”

I groan inwardly. Yes, he’s hot and all that. But does he have to be so obnoxious about it?

“The fridge.” I point at the huge high-tech thing with its glass panel that turns see-through the moment you touch the glass. Right now, I’m so hungry it’s the stuff of my dreams. And those brownie bites he keeps popping into his mouth without offering me one aren’t helping. “Can you remove whatever this is that’s littering the floor so I can get there?”

He regards me until he’s done chewing, then takes a gulp of his delicious-smelling hot chocolate. “Sorry, can’t do. You see, that’s my part of the house. I can’t let a stranger in for obvious reasons. You could be a killer.”

I roll my eyes. “If I were a killer you’d be dead by now, what with those traffic cones doing nil to stop a raging maniac swinging a knife.”

He shrugs. “You have a point. But the answer’s still ‘no’. You want something to eat, you go and get it elsewhere.”

“Even though there’s a fully-stocked pantry behind you that belongs to me, you want me to drag myself all the way down the hill, and walk for miles and miles to find that fishmonger’s because Sinead’s café is closed?”

I can’t believe the cheek!

“A contract’s a contract,” Patrick says. “We both agreed on the rules, remember? I said you were not to enter any parts of my house. Your exact words were ‘sounds good to me.’”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

He shrugs again. “You could go hunting. There’s a rifle somewhere in your part of the house. I think my dad used it to scare the raccoons away or so he claimed.”

I blanch at his words. “Hunting? I’ve never killed anything in my life.”

“Relax, love. It was a joke. Contrary to your belief, we’re not barbarians. We don’t go hunting for our next meal because we have something called shops, you know.”

I smirk. “Looking at you, you could have fooled me.”

His jaw sets and his eyes harden. “Anyway, you know where the shops are. I suggest you get going soon, before the weather takes a turn for the worse.” He points out the window at the wind howling through the trees, rattling at the shutters and the treetops and anything that isn’t nailed to the ground. Even though I’m starving, there’s no way I’m heading out there on foot.

I swat my hand, like it’s no big deal. “It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll find some stray chocolate bar in my baggage somewhere. It might not be a five-star menu but it will tie me over until later tonight.”

His brows furrow. “Until later tonight?”

“My date?” I smile sheepishly. “Did I forget to mention it? Duncan’s taking me to the pub. Apparently there’s a talent show we’re going to watch. It’s bound to be fun.”

“Duncan?”

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