Page 11 of Outspoken

I nod. “As long as you didn’t go through the hassle of cooking yourself because I’d feel bad. You’ve already done so much. I should be cooking for you.” I hug my waist. I don’t know how I’d react if he was cooking for me. He's too generous and I don't deserve it.

Before he can respond, I step out of the doorway so he can enter. “Tell your aunt thank you,” I say. “It’s very kind of her. I love your family.”

He smiles and sets the dish on the kitchen counter.

I glance outside. “What’s in the box?”

He returns to grab the box from the porch, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the huge bulge in his biceps. He notices me looking and grins.

I glance away.

“Since Brody is coming home soon,” he says, “these are meals courtesy of my tía, Lupita. You can freeze a lot of them.” He walks into the kitchen and I close the front door.

“She and Mom share the same drive to feed as many people as they can,” he continues. “You should see how Lupita is when she gets going—humming and pulling out ingredients while swaying to music. She loves dancing the salsa as she preps.” He does a few salsa steps while balancing the box—his thick thigh muscles and those delicious arms flexing with each movement.

I laugh and bite my lower lip as my dumb body reacts, my stomach warming.Stop checking him out!I quickly shift my gaze from his fit, tight hips and walk to the fridge. Miguel istoohot. I realize how deep into hypocrite territory I've crept. Brody did this same thing—lusting after Paige—and I bitched at him for crossing a line. Now here I am getting heated in my panties overhisBFF.

Well, I haven't done anything so…

Miguel sets the box on the table and then opens the top. Together, we fill the empty fridge shelves with about a week’s worth of meal containers.

“This is so generous,” I say. “Please tell your aunt I said thank you. It’s too much but…” I can't look him in the eye.How are he and his family so nice?

My mind drifts back to the night he held me—how he was just there with me as I fell apart. When I finally settled, I found myself fighting sleep so I could enjoy the comfort of his arms a few minutes longer. His heartbeat was so steady and soothing and…Just don’t think about it.

I put the last container in the fridge and take a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. “Um, thank you. This is amazing.”

He flashes his dimple and says, “Don’t worry about it. You ready to dig in? Because I'm starving.”

I smile to myself.When isn't this guy hungry?“Yeah, sit down and I'll get it ready.”

After he settles into a chair at the table, I move to the casserole and he studies my coloring supplies. “So, what do we got here?”

His question seems more like thinking out loud than actually asking, so I focus on placing the chicken bake on plates and warming it in the microwave. With my back to Miguel, I allow myself to grin from his presence.

After the food is heated, I grab silverware and return to the table. Miguel is coloring a butterfly with a furrowed brow, deep in concentration. I laugh as I set our plates down and sit next to him at the table.

“What?” he asks, contemplating the butterfly. “Oh, you think I need purple? Yeah, I'll add purple and then maybe pink.” His expression turns serious. “Gotta make it pretty.”

Laughing, I toss a crayon at him playfully. "You're a dork."

He grins and wiggles his bushy eyebrows. “Dork? I've been called a lot of things—charming, hilarious, a Mexican god—but never a dork.”

I almost choke on a bite of food from laughing. “Who called you a Mexican god?”

“Your brother likes to tease me as if women are knocking down my door to worship my physique.” He relaxes against his chair, widening his thighs so our knees touch. “I don't mind being your dork.”

Our eyes connect, and I linger in the heat too long. “You’re also a flirt,” I tell him.

His grin is too seductive. “So you’ve noticed?”

I bite my lip, wanting to keep flirting since this is the most fun I've had in weeks. But my walls go up. I think of the stories Brody told me. Miguel is probably just flirting out of habit, and I don't want to take it too seriously. While casual sex actually soundsgreat, I doubt that's his intention. He's only here to give me company.

Besides, anything physical between us could make life complicated. I don't need 'complicated'.

Picking at my food, I ask, “Are you the kind of guy who flirts with all women?”

His reaction isn't what I'm expecting. I thought he'd smirk and admit to being too flirtatious, but his lips part and his deep brown eyes soften. Then they fill with torment, glancing at my mouth. He quickly shifts in his chair so our knees are no longer touching, sitting up straight and rigid. Then he shoves food into his mouth and chews.

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