Page 300 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

Stop denying it, Eva. You’re attracted to him.

Fine. How could I not be fascinated by him? I understood beauty. I worked and arranged it at Happy Flowers. I had a good eye for color, composition, and texture. I appreciated beauty and knew what it could do to someone’s emotions. When I created exquisite bouquets for my customers, the joy on their faces told me my arrangements were worth it. Kain was one of those sturdy and masculine plants that mesmerized without needing a lot of care.

He was an older man, and that meant he had experienced more of the world. What had he seen? What had he learned? A part of me wanted to know all of it.

Despite how gorgeous he was, someone that charming could have thorns. I didn’t want to get pricked. What if he turned out to be another Dennis? My body shuddered at that terrifying thought.

If I didn’t watch out for myself, history could repeat itself. I’d dated a married man for a year. It made me feel stupid. When I discovered the truth, it crushed me. I had no clue the idiot lied to me throughout our relationship. Why hadn’t I seen all the red flags?

When you’re in love, rose-colored lenses distort the truth.

I didn’t want to live in an illusion again. Life was too short for that stuff.

The doorbell rang, and I went over to the monitor and saw Kain waving on the screen and buzzed him in.

When I opened the door for Kain, he handed over a box of cupcakes from Can’t Top This. “For you and Grandpa Collins.”

I moved out of the way for him to step inside. “You didn’t have to bring anything. You’re the guest.”

He wore dark jeans and a black knit shirt that showed off his muscular chest and bulky arms. The gray eyes pinned me to the spot, and I wanted to run my fingers through his dark shaggy hair. I still couldn’t believe he was actually here, in my apartment.

“I wanted to bring something because you’re treating me to lunch. It’s been a while since I’ve had a homecooked meal.”

“What’s wrong with you, boy? What do you normally eat?” Grandpa Collins popped into the hallway, wearing the yellow apron that my grandmother had given me one Christmas. I didn’t cook much. Sometimes I was just too tired, and the abundance of restaurants in this area made ordering convenient.

Grandpa offered him a welcoming handshake, which he returned.

“I live by myself, so I don’t need to cook.” Kain slid onto the stool in front of the kitchen island, watching Grandpa move around the kitchen like the expert chef that he was. “I did the math. It comes down to the same amount of money spent. If I bought groceries and didn’t cook them in time, they’d spoil, and that’d be a waste. There’s an International Food Court not too far from here. I can get delicious meals at an affordable price.”

“There’s no food court where I’m from. You’ve been spoiled.” Grandpa mixed up the salad I’d and the two men continued the conversation as though they’d been friends for a long time.

I didn’t know what to think about the casual way he slid into my day, my home, my kitchen stool—my life.

“Would you like anything to drink?” I asked. “We have beer, orange juice, coffee, and water.”

“Beer, please.”

I placed a Samuel Adams in front of him, and he popped off the top, lifting it to my iced coffee. “Thank you.”

As I took the cupcakes out of the box and placed them on a display tray, Kain and Grandpa carried on an interesting conversation about relationships. That was so weird to me. Grandpa didn’t even know Kain. He just met the guy yesterday. So why was he asking his opinion about a perfect date? I stared at them for a moment. I couldn’t remember the last time I witnessed two men talking about this kind of stuff.

Kain met my eyes, and the gleam told me he understood what I was thinking. Maybe Grandpa’s friendliness opened him up. If I stepped back for a minute and looked at this scenario, it would appear completely bizarre.

What happened between yesterday and now? It had only been less than twenty-four hours since I met Kain—since Grandpa met him—and now he was inside my apartment, talking to my grandfather about his ideal date. What was going on here?

Feeling like a third wheel, I laughed at the silly thought and almost dropped one of the chocolate cupcakes. I was an open-minded person, so I welcomed odd events into my life. I loved the way Kain made Grandpa laugh. Laughter was truly healing, and he needed that to maintain his good health.

We sat at my round kitchen table and enjoyed Grandpa’s meatloaf, a side of sweet potatoes with sriracha and lime, bacon-wrapped asparagus, and a spring mix salad.

“This is the best meatloaf I’ve ever had.” Kain had a second serving of everything.

“That’s my specialty.” Grandpa cooked better than anyone in my family; even my grandmother and mom couldn’t match him. But that was because they didn’t have the same love for cooking. It was a blessing to have a chef in the family.

Grandpa sipped his lemonade and asked, “What do you do for work, Kain?”

“I’m a tattoo artist. I own a gym and tattoo franchise, and I’m co-owner of the Etched Building. But I’m also a trainer.” He flexed an arm, and my stomach lurched at his massive bicep. “I enjoy helping people get into shape.”

I raked a gaze down his firm form. “Are you supposed to be eating the way you do? You even had a cupcake.”

---