Page 52 of The Price of Forever

Seven nodded, one of his ridiculously attractive wooden spoons in his hand. Tension brimmed between us. I came around the island and stood in front of the coffee maker. Freshly ground coffee waited for me in the filter, ready to go.

“Did you get this ready for me?” I asked, hoping we’d strike a good-natured chord somewhere along the way.

He nodded. “Yep. But I wasn’t sure when you’d be coming out.”

His thoughtfulness warmed me. Maybe things would be normal after all. I turned the machine on, selected my mug du jour—a punk Care Bear mug I’d found in a free bin at a flea market—and leaned against the countertop as it brewed. Seven hulked at my side, tending the eggs effortlessly.

Silence descended again. This was brutal. Or was it normal? I couldn’t tell. And it was driving me fucking nuts.

He snapped off the stove just as the coffee began filling the pot. I watched the trickle of liquid as if my life depended on it. Dishes clanked, then a moment later, Seven had whipped up some sort of spread with the shallots. He smeared it on the toast, then topped it with eggs and a sprinkle of thyme and parsley.

He rustled in the silverware drawer. I couldn’t look at him.

“Can we talk about last night?”

His question made my stomach plunge to the center of the Earth. I would have crumpled to the floor if it weren’t for the counter holding me up.

“What’s there to talk about?” I tried to make my voice sound bright, but it came out unnaturally so. I still couldn’t look at him.

He laughed, but it was humorless. “Uh…there’s a few things.”

I cleared my throat, waving off his words. “I thought I told you already. I was trying out a new routine.” My entire body vibrated with nerves. Do you believe me yet, Seven?

The hollowness of my voice startled even me. I barely recognized the words coming out of my mouth. I filled my mug to the brim, not even leaving room to stir in my sugar. I had no idea what I was doing. How to behave. I wasn’t even sure I’d know how to eat the toast. I carefully moved the mug over to the island without spilling and came around to the other side to sit down. Seven stood near the sink, already one bite into his food.

“Okay.”

That was it. Okay.

Both perfectly fine and somehow the worst response of all time.

I focused on my plate. Could he hear the hammer of my heart? I took a few bites before I realized I had no idea what I was eating.

“This is great,” I said. “Thanks for feeding me. Again.” I laughed, but it came out nervous. Psychotic, even.

Seven dragged his dark gaze my way. “You’re welcome.”

I shoved as much food into my mouth as I could. I couldn’t spend another second around this man or his sexy wooden spoons. I needed to fester in shame and regret until I molted into a new version of myself. Regular Jordan. The one who didn’t pull stunts like that or get close to anyone.

Once I cleaned my plate and put away what I could in the kitchen, I headed back toward my bedroom.

“Hey, there’s something happening tonight that you should know about.”

I froze mid-stride back toward my bedroom. Ice coated my veins. He was kicking me out. Retiring from close protection. Installing a steel trap chastity belt around my pelvis. “What is it?”

“A dinner party. Sort of.” He lifted a shoulder as he rinsed off a dishrag. “Kind of a work thing, too. Your brothers and I do it once a quarter.”

“Oh.” My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. “That sounds great.”

Even Seven looked suspicious of that response. Did he realize yet that my brain had disconnected from my mouth entirely?

“Yeah. They’ll be over around six. Just wanted you to know.” He sent me something like a grimace smile, and then started wiping down the island. The sight of him performing a domestic task with those biceps was too much. My useless, non-functioning brain started short-circuiting again so I dipped into my bedroom.

Fuuuuuuuck.

I threw myself face down on my bed and stayed there, stewing in my indecision and fucked-upness.

I didn’t want Seven to know how much I wanted him. I didn’t even want myself to know how much I wanted him. So that slipup in the VIP room needed to stay exactly what it was. A one-time mistake.

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