Page 60 of Even If the Sky is Falling
“Just breakfast, and that was right before I headed to my first remodel job.” He waves a hand. “It’s my own fault. That’ll teach me to skip meals. My parents always told me not to. I should have learned by now,” he jokes.
“Well, my mom always taught me to offer food to people the moment they walk in the door, so she’d be pretty embarrassed of me too since I didn’t do that for you.”
I hop up and walk over to the fridge right as Caleb starts to say it’s no big deal. I pull out a massive Tupperware container of leftover pansit and a foil package of fried lumpia.
I swipe some plastic cutlery from the top of the fridge and walk back over to the couch. Caleb’s eyes practically light up as I move to hand the food to him.
“Interested in some leftovers?”
His stomach rumbles again, this time louder.
I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a yes?”
He laughs and reaches out both arms to accept the container of pansit and plastic fork from me, practically growling thank you before digging in. I sit back down on the couch and rip into the lumpia. Before I can even take a bite, Caleb has eaten nearly a fourth of the savory rice-noodle dish with shredded carrots, cabbage, celery, ground pork and shrimp.
“Holy...this is so freaking good,” he says around a mouthful.
I open my mouth to say thank you, but the words lodge in my throat. I’m too mesmerized by how the muscles in his jaw flex as he chews, how each swallow glides slowly along the thickness of his throat, how he moans softly between bites...
My mind starts to wander to a filthy place it has no right to be... I wonder if he makes the same noises when he’s in bed...or if the sounds he makes are rougher, if they sound more like growls...
I clear my throat, press my eyes shut and shake my head slightly to refocus on the moment. I shift slightly on the couch, pressing my legs together as I dole out a silent warning in my brain.
God, Jocelyn. What is wrong with you? Are you really getting turned on watching your contractor eat? Your contractor, who you’ve known for an hour?
Apparently that’s exactly what happens after ten months of go-nowhere dates and no sex.
I stand up from the couch, grab a plastic bowl from the top of the fridge and fill it with bottled water from the fridge, then set it on the floor for Mango in an attempt to focus on something, anything, other than how attractive I find Caleb in this moment.
“Seriously, this is the best meal I’ve had in a while,” he says, jerking me back to tamer thoughts.
I order my brain to stay rooted in the moment. “My Apong Meena’s recipe,” I say, my voice slightly higher pitched than usual. I clear my throat. “I’ll be sure to tell her you like it.”
I sit back down and scoot closer to him on the couch so I can deposit a half dozen lumpia into his now nearly half-empty container.
“You don’t want any?” He points his fork to the container.
I shake my head. “I’ll be good with the lumpia. Besides, there are two smaller containers of pansit in the mini fridge and some leftover pork adobo if I get hungry...or if you need more food.”
He takes a bite of the lumpia and frowns slightly.
“I know, it’s not as good as when it’s freshly fried—”
He holds up his free hand, finishes chewing, then swallows. “What do you mean? Jocelyn, this tastes incredible.”
I laugh. “Swear it’s better when it’s hot and crispy, straight from the fryer.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “If you say so.”
A minute later, the entire container is empty. Caleb leans back and rests both his palms on his stomach, a satisfied smile tugging up at the corners of his mouth, while I silently order myself not to gaze at the sliver of muscly flesh that peeks between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his jeans.
I start to offer him more food, but he shakes his head.
“I couldn’t eat more even if I wanted too. That was a lot of food, and it was delicious. Thank you again.”
He starts to cough.
“Oh! You probably want something to drink.”
