Page 28 of Home Game

I avoided looking at all that bronzed, smooth skin.

“What time is it?”

“Just after 10 PM. How are you feeling?”

“Stiff.”

He studied me. “You should eat something.”

The thought of eating made me nauseous, but that was probably because I hadn’t eaten in a while. “Okay.”

He stood up and pulled on a shirt. “I can heat you up some soup.”

“Okay.”

I slid onto the stool at the island and watched as he pulled out a bag of Happy Planet soup from the fridge. This guy didn’t heat a can of soup like the rest of the world. He bought fresh, organic, locally made soup that probably cost the same price as five tins of soup. He didn’t speak as he read the instructions.

He cut up bread and cheese and put it in front of me. Suddenly I was ravenous. It was soft and fresh and tasted like heaven.

“This bread is so good,” I said, my mouth full.

He leaned back against the counter and watched me eat.

“Sorry I look so gross,” I said, when I caught him eyeing my face.

“You don’t look gross.”

I put my bread down. I knew what was coming. I needed to get out of this guy’s hair. This was the second time he had saved my butt, and I didn’t want us to get to the point where he told me I needed to leave.

“So, I need to leave,” I said. “Would it be okay if I took a shower before I left?”

He crossed his arms and stared at me. His expression didn’t change. “Where will you go?”

“Does it matter?”

“I want to understand what your game plan is. You have no money. You’re hurt and you can’t work for a while with that shoulder, at least not in a restaurant.”

“Don’t think that is any of your concern.”

His eyes narrowed. “What were you doing out there?”

“Where?”

“At that restaurant? Late at night.”

“None of your business.”

“Was it drugs?”

My mouth dropped open. “No!”

“Why were you out there?”

“What, are you my social worker now?”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Tell me why you care.”

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