Page 6 of Tinder Embrace
Was he going to eat in his room?
I took a tiny bite of the tuna fish sandwich, chewing slowly, trying to overcome my disappointment that Davis had abandoned me again. I spent enough time at work surrounded by eight-year-olds, a little peace at the end of my day was usually exactly what I needed.
Davis flitted in and out of my orbit on nights I visited the farm, always moving in the background, but it was like his big body absorbed the frenetic energy around me, cushioning me from the world. He was peaceful to be around, even if he never stopped puttering.
I smiled when Davis reappeared, a second plate in hand, and settled on the other end of the couch.
"Thanks for the sandwich," I said softly.
Davis focused on the TV, slowly demolishing his sandwich, ignoring my thanks.
I turned to my own plate.
We finished our lunch in silence, watching the bakers present their creations. Seeing the delicious-looking cakes fired up my sweet tooth, but I’d already leaned on Davis enough with lunch. Asking for more would be tempting fate. If I pushed him too far, he might decide I was less trouble at my own apartment.
I shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable. With a heavy sigh, Davis reached for my feet, pulling them into his lap. I held my breath as he peeled the ice pack away from my left ankle.
"You need to elevate this," he grumbled, resettling my feet over his broad thighs.
I tried not to squirm, wary of scaring him away. His fingers were so gentle, it was hard to believe the deft touch came from Davis. He was built like a linebacker, all brawn and bulk from farm life. He sported a tan that came from working outdoors, his dark hair shaggier than was stylish. Not that Davis cared about fashion. Other than the farm and his kittens, I had no idea what the man was into. But judging from the avid way he watchedBakers Anonymouswith me, at least we had that in common.
Slowly, I relaxed on the couch, settling deeper into the cushions. Davis idly traced the bones in my good ankle, sending a shiver down my spine. His fingers caressed me almost absently, but I felt the impact of his touch to my core.
I watched him beneath my lashes. Did he have any idea what he was doing to me?
That gentle stroke was the most action I'd seen in months.
Sad, but true.
My crush on Davis was an open secret. As in, the only person I'd managed to keep in the dark appeared to be Davis himself. And at this point, I had to chalk that up to him being willfully obtuse. My attempts to flirt with him had fallen flat. Even winning a date with him and his kittens at the bachelor auction hadn’t been enough to get him to see me as more than his sister’s friend.
He'd given me no indication he felt anything for me but reluctant tolerance. I couldn’t push it further without sacrificing my remaining pride. My relationship with Jo was our only real connection. He couldn't exactly avoid me. I was at the farm with Jo almost every Tuesday for campfire night with our other friends: Gwen, Izzy, and Eve.
Our evenings around the fire were a balm to my soul, but the small glimpses of Davis added an extra bit of excitement. I was too old for a crush at twenty-eight, but, really, who was I hurting, fantasizing a bit?He no doubt thought of me as a harmless bit of fluff, and dreaming of him helped assuage the loneliness of the cold winter Campfire nights.
New resolve filled me. As bad as I felt for involving Davis in my ballooning mishap, it presented a golden opportunity: maybe with enough time spent together, I'd be able to get over the silly crush I had on him. I'd do my penance, helping him with chores, and, in return, I'd get an overdose of Davis and finally get him out of my system.
That's totally how addiction works, right?Binge on the thing you can't get enough of, and maybe it won't have the same hold on you?
It had never worked for me with coffee. Or ice cream. But maybe with Davis there was hope.
Continuing to lust after a man who didn't want me was just sad. And avoiding him wasn't an option as long as he and Jo lived together. The only solution was to gorge myself and hope that did the trick. Maybe with enough of his sullen attitude, grunted non-responses, and overall dickishness, I'd get over him.Counterpoint, my conscience whispered.He's already helped you pack a bag, made you lunch, and is currently caressing your uninjured ankle like one of his precious kittens.
You might be hooked for life.
Chapter 3
Davis
I stroked Sophie’s ankle, trying not to notice how delicate she was. How fragile. Contemplating her mortality made every muscle clench. My jaw ached from grinding my teeth together.
We’d come too close to losing her today. Watching her drop from the sky in slow motion didn’t make it any less potentially deadly. What if she’d hit a power line? Or the barn?
I shook off the maudlin thoughts, trying to focus on the warm skin beneath my fingers. Silky smooth, her warmth eased some of the lingering helplessness that had gripped me when I realized exactly what she was yelling down at me. My annoyance at her choice of landing sites had evaporated, dialing every instinct to protect her to a thousand. I’d muttered more prayers in the three seconds it took me to sprint to her balloon than I’d ever managed in church.
Touching Sophie like this was penance for sins I hadn't even committed yet. Then again, I’d sinned plenty. I'd barely managed to control my temper when she dropped into my lap this morning, and my hands were overflowing with a colorful bunch of her lacy panties only forty-five minutes ago. Maybe I had sinned enough to deserve the torture of her soft skin beneath my fingers without the ability to do more about it.
She'd cooled the last traces of my anger with her insistence on staying with me until Jo returned. I didn’t blame her, but that didn’t matter to her sense of honor. If my sweet Beauty knew I was putty in her hands, there'd be no stopping her.
