Page 16 of Love Undercover
And Chase was there on the porch, leaning against a post with his hands in his pockets. Something told her the impression she had of the house was a metaphor for the man.
The way the sunlight limned his imposing, muscular frame made her catch her breath. This moment, the bright sunshine glowing over the house and the man, surrounded by lush forest, was the perfect ending scene for a romantic movie.
City girl meets taciturn outdoorsman.
The way he stood, waiting for her like she was finally coming home after the main conflict had been resolved, a faint, self-satisfied smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. As if to sayI knew you’d be back.
It was absurd that some unfurling of warmth spread in her chest, like a lazy cat stretching out in the sun. Somebody call Hallmark.
But she couldnotlet her guard down. He still had a gun, had still broken into her home, had still shoved her inside of his trunk. With her hands tied behind her fizzing back!
But she set her jaw and walked back toward the house, her steps slow with doubt.
“Northeast is that way.” He tipped his head over his right shoulder, but his eyes never left her face. His voice was still scratchy from their scuffle.
She held his gaze. “What does it matter to you if I go in the wrong direction?”
He lifted one shoulder, and they stared at each other for a stretch. Then: “You hungry?”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m making eggs.”
Another beat went by.
Then he turned toward the door and went inside. He either expected her to follow, or he didn’t care if she did.
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, casting her eyes in the direction he’d indicated as northeast. It just looked like more trees to her. But based on the morning sun’s position, he actually might’ve been telling the truth. She took a couple of steps that way, half-convinced that six miles wasn’t that far, but her stomach grumbled, and she realized how long it had been since she’d eaten.
Maybe after breakfast.
She peeked just inside the door.
He was already slapping some butter into a warm pan, pulling out the egg carton. He tilted his head slightly so he could look at her from the corner of his eye. “How do you like them?”
She eyed the carton, frowning at the label as she came closer. “Pasture-raised and organic,” she answered without thinking.
He snorted. “I’ll make a note for next time.”
“Not just cage-free,” she insisted, despite his sarcastic tone and the warning that shot off in her head. Most people didn’t like lectures, and he was her kidnapper. And yet, she continued. “That just means they’re all locked in a building together, still in too tight of quarters, even if they’re not in cages. Even free-range doesn’t mean much.”
He turned to look at her, the spatula raised in the air like a question mark. “So, do you want the eggs or not?”
She slid onto one of the bar stools tucked under the island, grimacing. “Over easy is fine.”
“This isn’t grass-fed butter either,” he warned, and she could tell he was messing with her.
“Heathen,” she accused playfully.
He turned to her with a grin, and it stopped her heart. And then she realized how ridiculous it was that she was reacting to him. She was actually flirting with the man who’d abducted her!
Her returning smile disappeared, and she looked down at the marble countertop, tracing the vein of gray in the glittering white.
He cleared his throat and opened a cupboard to get plates for the eggs.
“Want some coffee?” His voice was cautious, overly polite, as he set the food in front of her.
She stabbed her fork into her eggs and shook her head, feeling the warmth creep into her cheeks.
