Page 10 of Masked Sins
And seeing as how I loathe dating, I’ll probably die here all alone as an old cat lady.
A low-pitched yowl sounds through the 1930s cottage, and I smile as I squat down to pet my ragdoll cat, Sparrow. I named him that when I was a teenager and obsessed with Jack Sparrow. It didn’t help that he’d had an eye infection for a few weeks as a kitten and looked like a pirate with one eye swollen closed.
He’s an old man now, but he’s the best part of my day.
“Hi, Row Row,” I croon, setting my purse down and walking into my small kitchen to feed him. “I’m sorry, but I have to go to Dad’s house for dinner. I’ll be back later, okay?”
An urgent meow is the only response I get. I bang around the small wooden cabinet that houses his food, and as I set the wet food down for him, he purrs appreciatively. I pet his thick fur, smiling down at him for a second. He’ssofluffy—he practically gets swallowed up by his fur until I get him groomed in the summer months.
Standing, I grab a glass from one of the floating shelves and fill it with water. This kitchen is what sold me on the house. Everything had been restored to its former glory. Whoever owned the house before me took great care in keeping the house’s character, which included the exposed brick behind the black vintage stove. Ilovedthis house, and now that I’d stuffeda plant in every free crevice and corner, it felt like I was walking into nature whenever I came home.
After finishing my glass of water, I set it down and walk to my bathroom, undressing quickly. The leotard and skirt end up in a pile on the tiled floor as I start the shower—mounted above the restored claw-foot tub—and as it heats up, I turn to face myself in the mirror.
“You are beautiful. You are perfect just the way you are. Food is nourishment, not the enemy.”
I inhale and let my eyes drag down the reflection of my naked body, telling myself out loud all the things I appreciate about my body today—such as how strong I feel and how my hair just so happened to dry nicely, with the waves cascading down my shoulders and arms.
When I’m finished, I take the world’s quickest shower without getting my hair wet before pulling on a baggy cream-colored sweater and a pair of wide-leg jeans. I swipe some moisturizer on my face and take my contacts out, donning my round, wire-framed glasses.
Since it’s raining, I pull my hair up into a clip and slip into a pair of platform UGG slides. When I’m finished, I clean Sparrow’s face off. If I don’t, his smelly food will get everywhere, thanks to his fur. He meows and rubs against my legs as I wash my hands.
“Be a good boy, okay?” I tell him, grabbing my purse and opening the door.
The rain has stopped, but it’s still cold for LA, so I grab my long camel coat and pull it on as I step outside. Closing the door, I begin the trek to my dad’s house, only remembering that Orion will be there as his parked bike comes into view in the driveway.
“Crap,” I mutter, looking down at my casual, baggy outfit. Shaking my head, I stand taller. “You’re not here to impress him,” I tell myself.
Taking a deep breath and faking a confident, neutral expression, I walk up to the front door and open it. My father’s booming voice resounds through the house. I take my coat off and drop my purse onto the chair by the door, quietly walking toward the kitchen.
My dad has his back to me, and the smell of fried meat fills the air. He normally uses the grill out back, but since it’s raining, he’s using the stove. He’s in his usual printed button-up—this one with bright purple hibiscus flowers—and cargo shorts. I let my eyes wander to the man standing against the counter beside him, and my mouth goes dry.
Honestly,howis it possible that Orion looks better every single time I see him? It’s unfair.
And frankly, it’s inconvenient.
It’s much easier to hate someone when they don’t look like every dark romance book boyfriend I’ve ever been obsessed with over the years.
Short, dark brown hair that’s tousled in a way that makes it seem like he makes zero effort yet completely complements his sharp cheekbones, straight nose, and full lips. His thick eyebrows are defined and slightly arched, giving him a villainous look and framing his face to give him a commanding presence. He’s wearing a dark gray thermal pushed up to his elbows, black pants, and motorcycle boots. Whorls of black ink snake down to his left hand, and I don’t know how it’s possible, but he somehow looks even more jacked than the last time I saw him.
His muscles pull on the fabric of his thermal shirt, and I give myself a second to admire his narrow waist and muscular thighs. The way the muscles fill out the pants is—to use a term from my romance books—something that makes my heart skip a beat.
Just as I move my eyes back up to Orion’s face, his lips quirk up slightly, and he slowly turns to face me with darkened pupils.
Kill me now …
He totally caught me checking him out.
I clear my throat and walk into the room with my arms crossed.
“Hello,” I say to him, pressing my lips together in my best impression of a scowl.
“Hello.”
My dad turns around and grins. “La-La,” he says, wiping his hands before opening his arms for a hug.
I smile and walk over to him, letting my cheek rest against his shoulder for a second too long.
Nothing is like a hug from your dad.
