Page 109 of Phishing for Love
Aaron:Looks like I’ll be eating alone.
When I pull up to Aaron’s cabin on the far side of town later that Sunday afternoon, it’s pouring with rain. This kind of four-seasons-in-one-day weather is so typical of Brown Oaks. When I left this morning, the sun was shining and now a full-on thunderstorm is wreaking havoc in the sky.
I stare at the sad, stunted oak in Aaron’s front yard and let out a sigh. I’ll have to make a run for it. My gaze takes in the three large shopping bags laden with heavy casserole dishes on the backseat. Make that two trips since there’s enough food here for a battalion. Then I remember I lent my umbrella to Kenzie a few days ago and a groan escapes my lips.
Drawing in a deep breath, I unfold myself from my car and step into the pouring rain. I grab two bags and hurry up Aaron’s front porch steps. The door opens and Aaron steps out. He must have heard me pull up.
“Anything else still in the car?” he asks, raising his voice to be heard over the storm.
“One more bag, but I can get it. I’m already soaked.”
“I’ve got it.” Grabbing an umbrella, he heads to my car to retrieve the bag.
When he returns, he ushers me inside and I stand on a mat in his entrance hall shivering, water dripping from myhair, pouring down my face. Of course, I’m wearing white linen pants and a cream-colored T-shirt that are soaked through and molded to my skin.
As if he can’t help himself, his eyes travel the length of my body before he quickly averts his gaze to some point over my shoulder.
“I’ll get you a towel,” he offers and disappears down the hallway.
I might be cold and uncomfortable, but that heated look I glimpsed in his eyes has warmth pulsing through my body, my skin still feeling the residual effects of it.
He returns with a large towel, and I wrap it around myself. My teeth start chattering and he frowns.
“You need to get out of your wet clothes.”
“You need a better line than that.”
He gives a slight head shake. “Still sassy even when you’re waterlogged.”
“A serious character flaw, I’m told.”
“I wouldn’t call it a flaw,” he comments with a wry grin. “I’ll find you some clothes to wear while yours are drying.”
“Thanks.” I hug the towel tighter to my body. Please don’t let it be female clothing he just happens to have lying around.
He returns with a blue T-shirt and gray sweatpants that can only be his. “They’ll hang off you,” he says apologetically, “but a belt should help.”
In the guest bathroom, I strip off my wet clothes and change into his. I’m a fan of oversized T-shirts, but his shirt is way too big for me. A brainwave hits, and I gather the fabric in front and tie it so now I have a crop top. The gray sweatpants require some innovative engineering with his belt to keep them from falling around my ankles.
My hair will be a wild mess when it dries, so I use the emergency scrunchie that’s permanently around my wrist toscoop my hair up into a ponytail. A glance in the mirror reveals my mascara has smudged, which I try to fix by wetting bathroom tissue and wiping under my eyes. My cheeks are flushed and my green eyes are wide and overly bright, but I’m not sure I can blame the rain for that. I look fresh-faced and a little vulnerable, and for an instant, even I’m scared for me.
I emerge from the bathroom to find Aaron in the kitchen unpacking the casserole dishes from the bags. His eyes flick to the sliver of stomach I’m showing, and I watch him falter a little. “I like what you’ve done to my shirt,” he murmurs, and I can see him physically willing his eyes back up to my face.
I’m distracted from torturing Aaron further when I spot the cup of hot, strong coffee waiting for me on the kitchen counter. “It’s like you’re a mind reader,” I say approvingly as I settle onto a stool at the kitchen island and wrap my hands around the toasty mug.
Aaron moves deftly around the kitchen. Now that I’m dry and comfortable, I’m able to fully register his appearance. Work Aaron is ridiculously attractive, but Cabin Aaron is on another level. His weekend casual look includes two days’ worth of stubble, slightly mussed dark hair, black sweatpants, and a fitted black T-shirt that pops the blue in his eyes.
The heat that flared in his eyes earlier is now rushing through my bloodstream, the jolt of desire so strong my fingers tighten around my mug.
“Your mom is incredible,” he says, taking out another dish, this one labeledshepherd’s pie.
“She is.” I don’t tell him I shopped for the ingredients and cooked the meals with my mom. Nor do I tell him that every time I look at Ash, I’m so overcome with gratitude I have the urge to thank Aaron in some way. The safest way is to feed him.
“All this will keep me fed for at least two weeks.”
“You’ll probably want to put some of the food in the freezer.”
“I was planning to.”
