Page 25 of An Uncertain Claim

I scoffed. “I wouldn’t make a mistake.”

He put an open box with a cheesesteak in my hands. “But you would have blamed me for eternity if you did, right?”

“Not for eternity,” I protested. “I don’t hold grudges.”

“There’s a first time for everything.” He pointed to the sandwich. “Eat or I will feed you myself.”

I took a bite and sighed at the delicious flavors. I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was and I freaking loved cheesesteaks.

“The only reason I got through to you was because you were hungry, isn’t it?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone.

“Probably. I can lose myself in my work sometimes.” I finished off my sandwich and opened the bag to see whatever he’d brought. Another one. “Bless you,” I moaned as I opened the second box.

“Damn it, Peyton,” Nathan growled.

I glanced at him in surprise, not sure what I’d done to put him in a foul mood. His eyes had heated to molten silver, and he was staring at my mouth. My mouth went dry as flames licked at my insides and my panther brushed her fur under my skin, pushing a little, urging me to act.

“This is becoming a problem.” I sighed.

Nathan jerked his head up and down once and swallowed hard. Without a word, he stood and put me back down in the chair, then stalked over to the side of the room where a beautifully carved chess set sat on a small table. I recognized it as Jax’s work, even though it was quite a different design from the one Nathan had at home. He stared at the board, then began moving pieces around.

I resumed eating while I watched him play, realizing it was something he did to help him think—and enjoying the way his muscles rippled whenever he shifted on his feet or bent down to move the wooden figures. Once I finished the sandwich, I ate all the fries and a cup of fruit. The last thing I extracted from the bag was a lemon pastry.

“Hmmm, this smells delicious.”

Nathan nodded and murmured, “I love the smell of lemon.”

His comment reminded me how much we didn’t know about each other. Little things like our favorite foods, favorite color, music preferences, all those seemingly unimportant things. But they were very important when it came to someone you had a relationship with, romantic or otherwise. “Do you want to share it?”

He grasped the queen in his hand and straightened, turning to face me. “Thank you, but I don’t like the taste.” His lips curved and I laughed.

“How can you enjoy the smell of something and not the taste?”

“I think it’s because the taste is so much stronger.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t mind hints of lemon in things, but the smell just floats in the air and teases my senses.”

I tilted my head to the side, studying him as if I’d see something different about him from this angle. Somehow, these little things made him seem like more than the man who’d fathered my child and lit my body up like a Christmas tree. I wanted to know more, so I shared something else. “I don’t like licorice. Any of the flavors.”

“Noted,” he replied with humor in his silver orbs.

“Or beer.”

Nathan’s mouth opened and he looked at me with an expression of horror. “You don’t like any beer?”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh at his dramatics. I’d never seen this side of him—I’d been starting to think he didn’t have one.

“We have to fix this.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” I asked, not containing my laughter anymore.

“Beer tasting. We’ll do it in the spring, after you’ve had the baby.”

My laughter petered off as I realized he wasn’t joking. “You’re serious?” I asked incredulously.

“Sure,” he said with a smile. “Why not? We have a lot of events and festivals during the warm months in Silver Lake. My dad would plan anything that has to do with beer.”

I opened my mouth to remind him that I probably wouldn’t be around, then shut it because I didn’t want to ruin the mood we’d created and my panther had batted her claws at me in irritation, so all I said was, “Maybe. I don’t think you’ll ever find a beer I’ll like.”

“Perhaps.” He placed the chess piece on the board once more before striding over to the couch where he’d been sitting the last time I noticed him. He sat and picked up his tablet, then observed me thoughtfully before asking, “Any idea how much longer this will take? You didn’t get much sleep last night.”

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