My body ached with exhaustion, and all I wanted was to take a long, hot shower and crawl into bed.
Today had been busy.
Five of the shelter’s dogs had found new homes.
That should’ve made me feel good, but instead, I felt the weight of everything else pressing down on me.
The house was dark and quiet, too quiet.
Most of the staff had finished their work for the day, leaving only Clarissa, who is staying permanently with us. She greeted us with a warm smile as she finished up her dinner, her easy-going nature always a small comfort.
“Hey, Clarissa,” I said, looking around. “Where is my mother?”
“Your mother said she’ll be back late,” she replied, glancing between me and Maddox with a curious look. “Do you want me to make you something to eat?”
I smiled faintly, shaking my head. “No, thank you. Go ahead and take some rest.”
She hesitated, glancing at Maddox once more.
“But your mother said—”
I cut her off. “It’s fine, Clarissa. Really.’’
Her eyes lingered on us for a moment longer before she nodded, picking up her plate.
She worked for my family since I was a kid. Now in her 40s, she rarely had a day off, and even though she had no family of her own to care for, that didn’t mean she didn’t deserve a break.
I could see the quiet relief on her face as she gave a small, grateful smile before she left.
It was just me and Maddox now.
“So…” I spun on my shoes to face him, trying to fill the silence. “Are you hungry? Want me to make something to eat?”
“You can cook?” He raised an eyebrow.
Maddox leaned on the counter, his muscles flexing against the tight shirt he was wearing. The veins in his forearms were like lines of ink, a testament to how much power was wrapped up in his body.
I hated to admit it, but despite how much he pissed me off, there was something about him—something twisted and unnerving—that drew me in.
His presence was magnetic, almost like a riddle I couldn’t help but try to solve, even though I knew it would drive me insane eventually.
I cleared my throat, forcing my eyes away from him.
“I never said that,” I muttered, opening the fridge and pretending to focus on the contents. “But I can still try.’’
I pulled out some ingredients, figuring I could at least attempt to make something edible.
I wasn’t sure what bothered me more—the fact that he was here, in my house, or the fact that no matter how much I tried to ignore it, his presence seemed to consume the space around me.
“I’ll pass,” he replied, his voice calm, giving me that same cool look.
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
He was making it hard to get along with him like it was some kind of challenge for him to be impossible to talk to.
I pulled out all the ingredients I needed to make myself an avocado chicken toast, trying not to let his presence throw me off.
I expected him to leave, or at least give me some space, but to my surprise, he took a seat at one of the chairs, placing his massive hands on top of the counter as if he had all the time in the world.