Page 21 of Knot All is Forgiven

"Icarus."

"Oooh boy. Yeah. Call me when you get your phone because I gotta know more."

"Yeah, yeah, byeee!" I end the call and poke the large cat on the forehead. "Are you gonna let me get up?"

"Mrow."

Okay, cool. He's got a back-talking, sassy cat. That's fun. I stroke down the creature's back, and he rumbles with a purr. "You're a sweetie, though, aren't you? What's your name?"

"Daedalus." Icarus's voice rumbles, and I look up to see him leaning over the couch, "Dae for short. Looks like he likes you. He's an asshole."

"What's the significance of the name?"

"Uh, Daedalus was Icarus' father…" he ruffles his dirty blonde hair, his face flushing. That's when I notice he's changed into a blank tank and grey sweatpants.

Grey. Sweatpants.

Who the hell does this doctor think he is? Does he not understand how dangerous those pants are?

His arms are corded with muscles, but he's not bulky. His figure makes it clear he takes care of himself, but it's not a personality trait or anything.

I can't help it. My mouth waters a little, looking at him.

And I'm in scrubs, probably looking like a whole ass mess.

He is looking at me, expecting a response, but I can't even remember what he said over the roar of arousal that is filling my head. Eventually, when he raises his eyebrow at me, I clear my throat and squeak, "Cool name."

Chuckling, he moves into the kitchen. "Alright, well, I'm about ready. Do you have a tea kettle?"

"I absolutely do not. I have an espresso machine."

"Do you mind if I bring mine?" He's already grabbing a dish rag and drying off the inside of the kettle. "I drink a lot of tea."

Who is this man? He loves books, has a cat, and drinks a lot of tea. And he smells like a day at the spa, like relaxation and comfort.

He opens a cabinet and grabs a cherry wood box about the size of a file folder but inches thick. "What's that?" The cat hoppedoff me to follow him into the kitchen, freeing me from the couch, so now I get to peer over his shoulder nosily.

The box is old, and the lacquer has lost its sheen. On top of it, there is a carved rose. It's intricate, with painstaking details on each of the petals. He opens the lid, and inside are rows of glass jars, each full of various dried things.

"That's all tea?" I ask, reaching over his shoulder to pick up one of the jars. "But this looks like fruit?"

He chuckles, gently plucking the jar from my hand. "I have some fruit teas, yeah. You'll have to try one someday." He places the jar back in, closes the lid, reaches into the cabinet, and pulls out a large tulip jar. It's about half full of tea, and clearly, it's his favorite.

"What's that one?"

He looks over his shoulder at me and smiles. "It's chamomile." He removes the metal hooks holding the lid closed and raises the container to my nose. "Smell."

Inhaling deeply, the tea's floral, slightly sweet scent drowns out his crisp eucalyptus momentarily. "It smells great," I tell him honestly. He hums to himself as he closes the jar, gently placing it on the counter. In a blink, he spins, grabbing me around the waist and pushing me backward until my ass hits the sink.

"That's what you smell like. For thirty years, I have had a cup of chamomile tea every night before bed. Imagine my surprise when I realized I get to have you before bed now, too."

Chapter nine

Oh shit, that wasforward.

I don't know what came over me just now.

Her breath hitches, and I can't tell if it's positive or negative. I take a step back, conscious of how I'm crowding her. Jordan's chest heaves and her eyes sparkle, but I can't tell what emotion is causing it.

---