Page 23 of Crave Me

“I’ll only be a minute,” I say, turning in the direction of the kitchen. Hey, it beats drooling and by now I’m pretty damn close.

There’s just enough space in the hall for him to walk beside me, and that’s what he does. “You have a lovely home,” he says when we step into the kitchen. He slides his hand across the white granite counter with silver swirls, noting the stained cabinets with interest.

“Thank you. My sister-in-law picked everything out. She has a gift for these things. I have a gift for telling her she’s crazy.” I retrieve an ice bucket from beneath the counter. “I should know better than to doubt her by now.”

He watches me as I fill the bucket. “Sorry, it’s all I have,” I explain. “And I need something big to accommodate these flowers. Christ, Evan. I’ve never seen blooms this big.”

“Do you like them?” he asks.

“I really do,” I reply, realizing how much I mean it.

Men I’ve dated in the past have mostly bought me lingerie. Sometimes even on the first date. Those dates have ended before they started, and they sure as hell never had a second opportunity to make up for the insult. The last time someone gave me flowers was at my high school graduation, and they came from my mother. Yet another reminder of how different Evan is.

“Your sister-in-law, is she married to your brother who’s a police officer?”

He remembered me mentioning my brother the cop. “No, Curran is married to Tess, an assistant D.A. My other brother Killian is married to Sofia, the interior decorator.”

“You have two brothers?”

I laugh as I reach for the first rose. “No, I have six.”

This gives Evan some serious pause. “Six?”

“I’m the only girl.” I wink at him. “I guess that explains a lot, huh?”

He laughs. “I suppose I can see where your strength comes from.”

“Strength?” I wonder why of all things, he honed in on that.

“It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.” He leans forward, appearing surprised that I’m so surprised. “You’re a very strong woman, Wren, in personality and demeanor. I’m stunned no one has ever pointed that out to you.”

No, they usually point out my ass, I don’t bother mentioning. “It’s not that I don’t consider myself strong,” I say, ignoring how scared I was before he arrived. “But it’s different to hear someone say that’s the first thing they noticed about you.”

He smiles softly, his gaze holding me in place. “There are many compliments I can give you, and perhaps I should have shared them first. But your strength has captivated me from the start. I suppose it’s why I remind you of it now.”

He’s not bull shitting and it absolutely floors me. “You’re really not from around here, are you?”

“I suppose not,” he answers.

I reach for another flower and a few more after that. It’s better than reaching for him and kissing him the way I really want to kiss him. “What about you?” I ask, shoving a rose between the others I placed. “Any brothers or sisters?”

“No. It’s always just been me.”

“I take it mom and dad discounted the rhythm method as an adequate mean of birth control.” I laugh. “Unlike my parents.”

My hands drop away from my work when I realize he’s not laughing with me.

That trace of sadness he carries is barely visible enough to notice. But I do. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You didn’t. My parents simply had different ideas.” His mind seems to wander, but it’s brief. “It’s the reason I hope to have a large family one day.” He chuckles. “If the time is ever right.”

“I would think you’d want maybe two kids at best, seeing how it’s not something you’re used to.”

He examines me. “Does this mean you don’t want any, because it’s something you know too well?”

“No, I want a million of them,” I tell him, grinning.

“Is that so?” he asks.

“Yeah, there’s sort of this unspoken motto in my family. Keep having them until you burst, or until your uterus drops to your ankles.” I shake my finger at him. “That shit should be on a bumper sticker.”

He drops his head and shakes it, all the while laughing. “We should add it to a T-shirt as well. I’ll be sure to bring it next time instead of flowers.”

“Next time?” I ask, lifting my brows. “I don’t know, Evan. We haven’t even gone out yet. I might piss you off, make you curse the day you met me, or send you running out of the restaurant screaming.”

The smile he gives me is just as genuine as the last, but a whole lot sexier than the first. “I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know much about you,” he says, hooking a strand of my hair and letting it slide through his finger. “But what I see is lovely,” he adds, his gaze never leaving mine. “You don’t piss me off, I’m more than glad that we met, and there shall be no running. You’re a breathtakingly beautiful woman, Wren. I want to know everything about you.”

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