Page 21 of Scorched

Chapter 4

Maggie’s jaw cracked as she let out a huge yawn. She padded down the stairs to the kitchen to start her morning coffee, shivering slightly. Declan kept his house on the cooler side, and even in her flannel pjs, she was still chilly after having been tucked under warm blankets all night. Coffee would fix that, though.

She tiptoed through the living room, trying not to wake him. He hadn’t been able to sleep in his bed yet, preferring the semi-upright position the recliner offered. She’d slept on the couch the first couple nights, just in case he needed her. The poor man tossed and turned most of the night, so she did her best not to wake him when she got up in the mornings.

As she entered the kitchen, she reached for the light switch, flipping it on, only to let out a yelp when it lit up Declan’s half-naked form sitting at the table.

“Holy crap, Deck! You scared the shit out of me! I thought you were still sleeping. Why are you sitting in the dark?”

He squinted up at her in the bright light. “Thinking.”

“What? Why does that require you to sit in the kitchen in the dark?”

“I was thirsty. My ribs hurt, so I sat. Then I started thinking.”

That explained everything. She rolled her eyes and walked to the counter, turning on the coffee machine. She needed caffeine to process this conversation. “What were you thinking about?”

“Stuff. The fire. How many emails are probably in my inbox at work. You.”

She paused, coffee filters in her hand, and glanced back. “Me?”

He nodded.

“What about me?” She put the filter in the machine, then reached for the bag of coffee.

“How I’m attracted to you even though I shouldn’t be.”

Coffee grounds fell over the counter as she missed her target. The plastic scoop clattered against the counter as she laid it down, turning to look at him. “Why shouldn’t you be attracted to me?” Because she was certainly attracted to him. “Is this about the lawyer thing again?”

He smiled. “No. It’s more because you’re almost ten years younger than me. And the kind of woman I swore I wouldn’t get involved with again. And numerous other reasons, to include the lawyer thing.”

She frowned, her mind latching onto the woman thing. “Okay. What type of woman is that?”

He gave her a one shoulder shrug. “High-maintenance. Prissy.”

Maggie blustered. She hated that word. Just because she liked high heels and dresses did not make her prissy. She was just as happy in jeans and flannel, covered head to toe in dirt and manure. “I am hardly either of those things. I can do without all the trappings just fine.”

“Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Prove it. Except for work—outside this house—you have to give up your creature comforts. No frilly dresses, no heels, no makeup, no fancy lattes,” he eyed the coffee on the counter, “for a week.”

“What would that prove? And why do you want me to?”

“Call it a test.”

“A test?”

“Yes.”

“A test of what?”

“Suitability.”

A clearer picture started to emerge in her mind. “Suitability? Between you and me, you mean?”

He nodded.

---