Page 5 of Gideon's Gratitude

My cheeks burned. “I am so sorry.”

He frowned. “I love hummus. But I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

“Trouble? No trouble. I’ll just go chop some veggies and leave you alone.” I pivoted and fled.

Back in the kitchen, I struggled to turn on the gas burner on the stove. Then I fumbled while opening the can of soup. I managed to dump it into the pot without spilling, but as I sliced the bread, I damn near sliced my finger.

You need to calm down. He’s just a guy.

A guy in need of help. A guy who was to be the new neighbor. A guy whose muscles gleamed in the firelight, and who was the most attractive man I’d seen in a while. A long while.

You’re responsible for his well-being. Focus on getting him fed.

He’s probably straight.

A truer statement had probably never been uttered. What were the odds that a gorgeous man would show up on my doorstep and besingle, let alone gay? I was pretty easygoing, but attached men were off-limits, and I never looked at straight men as anything other than friends.

And I needed a friend right now.

Not to say that he and I were destined to be buddies. The issue of the construction still existed. And although he didn’t seem the type to throw lavish-and-loud parties, I couldn’t be sure.

As the soup heated, I put the bread in the oven to warm, then set about chopping carrots and celery. I wasn’t a fan of celery, seeing as the thing was mostly water, but some nutritional information had stuck with me, and I’d grabbed some when I’d last been to town.

Archer appeared at the door, soggy clothes in his arms. “Might I borrow your dryer?”

I would’ve preferred not to use that much power, but I didn’t have the heart to say no. I’d conserve in other ways. I nodded and indicated with my shoulder that the man follow. When we arrived at the laundry room, he appeared ready just to toss everything in.

“This will ruin the suit.” I fingered the expensive wool fabric.

A quick shrug. “I’m pretty sure the water already did that. Easily replaced, so no worries.”

Easily replaced? This suit had to cost more than I made in several months of work. Back when I’d be working. These days? Probably a year’s worth of disability payments. Still, I had no standing. If the suit was easily replaced, and Archer obviously had the money, who was I to make a fuss? I opened the dryer door, then took each item individually, methodically checking all the pockets. I looked up and he offered a wry smile.

“I pulled out my wallet and cellphone. Both are wet, but likely to survive.”

“Good. I mean, that’s good. You said the phone doesn’t have power? I’ll see if my cable will fit it.”

A lock of hair fell across his brow, and he brushed it back.

I longed to touch. To run my hands through the damp strands. Would they be as soft as they looked? Would he lean into the touch and smile seductively?

What is wrong with you?

This man was here, under my protection, and all I could think was how very long it’d been since I’d touched someone. Anyone. I turned on the dryer and indicated he should lead the way out of the claustrophobically tiny room.

As predicted, my clothes were woefully inadequate. The sweatpants were several inches too short, although, to compensate, he’d pulled up the wool socks. An adorable but truly geeky look. The hoodie barely reached his waist and looked uncomfortably tight. As he moved, he left me with the most wonderful view of a perfect ass.

Oh my God, get your mind off his body.

Whether or not the guy was attractive, wasn’t the point.

I sniffed the air. I pushed past the massive man and made a beeline to the kitchen. I opened the oven and reached for the oven mitts, then pulled out the tray and dropped it on the stovetop with a clatter.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

More slowly, I turned off the oven and closed the door. I examined the bread. Singed, but not burned. Okay, well, good enough.

“Do you need assistance?”

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