Page 42 of Apex of the Curve

Fenris waited, holding the door open for me and I scooted across the final expanse of the gravel drive to the house and ducked through the door, not wishing to let the cold damp from outside into the house.

Fen followed me in and shut the door tightly behind me.

“Have a seat, I’ll get your food.”

I hung my purse over the back of one of the high bar chairs pushed up to the counter and shrugged out of my overcoat and scarf.

“Woo, it’s cold out there,” I mentioned and he gave me a crooked smile, meeting my eyes with his almost feral blue ones.

God, there was something irredeemably sexy about that look.

He took a plate down and got into the oven, loading things from various foil packets onto it for me.

“This’ll warm you up in no time,” he said as he worked. “What it doesn’t manage, I’ll finish upstairs.”

I blinked, my eyes going wide as I stared at him, a blush creeping into my cheeks.

He laughed at himself, and closed his eyes, shaking his head back and forth as he slid the plate of food at me.

“That came out really bad, didn’t it?” he asked.

I didn’t speak. I didn’t exactly know what to say. I was twisted up in knots inside with wanting to say ‘yes’ but not knowing precisely what I was saying yes to. I mean, did it sound bad? Yes. Did it also sound really, really good? Also, yes.

Should I be thinking that way after all that’d been said and done?

I didn’t know… I mean, I really didn’t know. I wasn’t even divorced yet.

Does that really matter? Your marriage is over. Charles checked out a hell of a long time ago. Why should you adhere to antiquated standards? Because you’re a woman? I think not.

“Beer?” Fenris asked, looking at me almost strangely.

“Depends, what kind have you got?”

He opened the fridge, leaned in and said, “Looks like a red, an IPA, and a couple of ciders. What’s your poison?”

I completely missed the question. He straightened up slightly and looked back at me over his shoulder and I snapped out of it, barely. I’d been unabashedly staring at his ass which looked really damn good in it’s sheath of lighter denim.

“I’m sorry, repeat the choices?” I squeaked.

His slow smile made my heart stutter and skip.

“Red, IPA, or Hard Cider?” he asked.

“Cider please,” I murmured, my breath stolen by the warmth in his steady, unwavering gaze.

He nodded once and turned back to the fridge, retrieving a brown glass bottle with a blue label. He used the bottom of a lighter to leverage the lid off and held it out to me, the light glinting off of the heavy silver rings on his fingers.

“Thanks.” I took the offered bottle and took several healthy swallows. His smile grew.

“Glad to see you’re doing better,” he murmured, and I felt the heat of my blush resurge and kiss my cheeks with flame.

“Are we flirting?” I asked.

Fenris shrugged the chains at one shoulder looping under his arm rattling against the stiff leather of his jacket.

“I don’t know about you, but I am. Need me to knock it off?”

“No!” I said quickly, then chased it just as quickly with, “I mean, I don’t know.” I scowled at myself and the mixed signals I was giving.

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