Page 161 of The Night Shift
The door swings open.
Theo stands there in nothing but a pair of loose black pants slung low on his hips and a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder. His bare shoulder.
He leans against the doorframe, casual and effortless. His lean frame is all sharp angles and smooth muscle, toned abs catching the dim light from inside his apartment. The defined cut of his “V” disappears beneath the waistband of his pants, drawing attentionexactlywhere it shouldn’t be. His sling is pressed snug against his chest, but it doesn’t do much to hide the tiny zig-zag patterns of his tattoo, just barely peeking out from underneath.
He looks like he belongs in one of those thirst trap cooking videos where the guy is aggressively kneading dough, smacking it onto the countertop like it personally wronged him.
I drag my eyes back up to his face. “And you’re shirtless because...?”
His blue eyes drag down my body as if I’m the one half-naked, before meeting mine again. “Because I’m hot.”
I scoff.
“What? I’m serious. I think I might have a fever.”
“Sure.”
“Feel my forehead.”
I narrow my eyes, pressing the back of my fingers to his forehead, then his cheek. He’s warm, but not feverish. My hand trails lower, brushing against his neck.
His voice drops to a whisper. “It’s hot, right?”
“You’ll live.”
His hand slides around my waist, pulling me in. My pulse jumps.
“Hi,” he murmurs, eyes fixed on my lips.
“Hi,” I say back.
“I missed you.”
He’s so close, I can smell his minty breath. “You have severe abandonment issues.”
“And you have severe punctuality issues. I said nine. It’s nine-fifty. You’re late.”
“You’re lucky I’m even here.” I shove him off and push past his shoulder, stepping inside. I take off my shoes and scan the space. It looks different from the last time I was here. But then again, the last time I was here, I wasn’t exactly focused on the amber walls or the black granite countertops. I was more concerned about the bleeding, whiny man on the floor.
“Where can I keep this?” I gesture to the Tupperware box in my hand.
Theo flings the kitchen towel to the side. “You brought me food?” Somehow, with only one hand, he uncorks a bottle of white wine and pours me a glass. “Sorry, they were out of theblood-red kind, so I had to settle for the one that looked most like human tears.”
“Hilarious.” I take the glass and lean against the kitchen island. “The Tupperware food is for me,” I add.
“Of course. Because when I said dinner, you heard potluck.”
“Because I’m not interested in being poisoned tonight.” I take a sip of my wine.
“Holly, if I wanted to poison you, I wouldn’t put it in your food. That’s far too obvious.”
I scoff and take another sip. A big one.
“I would, however, put it in that wine you’re so eagerly drinking.”
I pause mid-sip.
He just smiles, plucking the Tupperware from my hands. He opens it, giving the contents a suspicious sniff before scrunching his nose. “What the hell is this?”
