Page 10 of Tinder Embrace
Davis ignored my nosy behavior, and I took that as an invitation to borrow from his library. Proving my theory that Davis didn't like visitors, there was nowhere for me to sit in his office, so I slipped out, looking for a cozy spot to read, and found one beneath the barn's window. Spring sunlight cast a golden glow on the ancient sofa covered in cat hair. I snuggled in, flipping open my book, losing myself to a fictional world where I hadn't hurt myself or Davis.
Slowly, I became aware of the furry warm bodies that had snuggled around me. The orange cat stretched out along one of my thighs, grooming her fur. Two tiny fluff balls covered each of my shoulders, creating an almost shawl-like effect. The Siamese who'd had his chin propped on Davis's keyboard earlier had adopted a similar pose on my right knee. The final member of Davis's current kitten herd had taken pride of place in my lap.
I scratched the ginger cat beneath her chin, smiling when her eyes slitted in pleasure, a rough purr rumbling in her chest. Something shifted in the air, and I glanced up.
Davis stood framed in his office doorway, arms crossed, watching me. That silent perusal sent a flare of awareness coursing through me. His gaze seemed to trail everywhere, lingering on the way my fingers tangled in kitten fur. His expression remained aloof, but his jaw softened and his eyes seemed warmer.
Yet I still couldn't tell if his expression was pleased or disgusted by my takeover of his feline companions, and that bothered me. Davis was touchy when it came to his kittens. And he barely seemed to tolerate me on his best days, let alone when he was injured.
"How are you feeling?" I asked lightly, nodding toward his arm in its sling.
"I'll live. Hungry?"
"Sure. Okay if I bring this?" I held up my book.
He dipped his head in a nod, and I gently dislodged my cuddle buddies, limping for the door.
"I'm impressed by your book collection," I said as we made our way to the back door of the house.
Davis grunted. "Jo's is bigger."
I held back my smile with effort. How many men willingly admitted someone else had something bigger? I glanced at Davis. Then again, he didn't need to advertise. His body was a walking commercial for farmers everywhere. Tall, built broad in the shoulders, with a trim waist and tight butt showcased to perfection in jeans. He moved with an ease born of hard labor, the elegant prowl instantly sending tingles to places I had no business noticing.
Davis ushered me inside and toward a chair at the kitchen table and stuck his head in the fridge. He leaned down to a lower shelf, and I bit my lip, trying to tear my gaze from the way his glutes flexed.
"Leftover chili," he pronounced as he pulled a baking dish out, using his hand and one hip to set it carefully on the counter.
"Can I help?" I asked.
Davis shook his head, sliding the crock into his microwave and using his good hand to tap on the controls. "Beer?"
“A cider if you have one?” I asked instead, trying to take my cue from Davis. He pulled a bottle from the fridge, popping the top on the edge of the counter before handing it to me, then repeating the sequence again for himself.
Davis stared at the bowl rotating in the microwave, silence stretching between us. I bit my lip, tempted to fill the quiet. Thus far, Davis had tolerated me rather well, but I didn't want to push it. I was very aware that I was in his space and not necessarily in his good graces. He was letting me stay as a favor to Jo, and it was best I remember that.
The microwave dinged, and Davis used a towel to carry the chili to the table before gathering bowls and silverware. He added a tub of sour cream and glasses of water to the table. I felt like I should apologize for not helping more, but my ankle ached. The short walk from the barn to the kitchen had been almost more than I could handle.
"Ice?"
Davis's offer shook me from my thoughts. It took me a moment to understand what he meant. He seemed to read the pain on my face, pivoting back to the fridge and diving into the freezer, this time emerging with another ice pack. He bent down at my feet, tracing my ankle. His soft caress sent a wave of goose bumps radiating up my calves. I pressed my thighs together, clenching as I imagined his palms stroking higher before letting my thighs fall apart. He glanced up, eyes dark with something I wanted to label desire but was probably concern, judging from his frown.
Intent on examining my ankle, he had no idea I had thirst aid, not first aid, on the brain.
“What’s the verdict, doc? Am I gonna live?” I pushed the playful words out from a too-tight throat.
Now that the idea of playing doctor had emerged, it was difficult to lock it away again.
“Bee, if anything, you’re going to be the death of me…”
I watched his dark head, willing him to look up so I could get a better read on his meaning. The rough grumble and his pet name for me made me think maybe…maybehe was as affected as I was. I assumed he called me “Bee” because of my balloon. I hoped it wasn’t because he found me annoying or was allergic to me. The affection in his voice and the throaty growl that accompanied my nickname made it sound like an endearment. Like I was special to him. And hopefully not just especially irritating.
He hadn’t exactly fallen at my feet, but it was close enough that I could fantasize. I’d widened my stance to give him room. If he wanted to, pushing my thighs apart to explore wouldn’t be difficult. Every cell yearned for him to do just that. Picturing his face buried in my lap might keep me warm well into old age.
His big palm engulfed my ankle firmly, bringing my attention back to his inspection. His grip was not too tight, but it was solid enough that it sparked new ideas. I could think of a multitude of uses for his work-roughened palms. Most, the Hippocratic Oath would absolutely disapprove of.
I squirmed in my seat, restless to my core as he took his sweet time with my ankle. If he didn’t slap the ice pack on it soon, the scent of my arousal was going to give me away. I doubted I’d be able to look him in the eye ever again if he caught on to exactly how turned on his doctoring left me. Especially if it left him cold.
The way he lingered over his examination, I couldalmostbelieve he was enjoying himself.
