Page 12 of Legally Binding
Landon doesn’t appear convinced. “Are you sure?”
"I must have felt safe, I guess, so I crashed."
A soft smile pulls at his lips. "I love that you felt comfortable enough to do that, but I think after the day you had, you must have needed it. It was a lot."
"It was," I say in agreement. "Oh, our baby! Oh my gosh, what is wrong with me?" I search around, trying to find him.
“He’s right there. I think he had a long day too.” Landon motions to the small bed we got him, and he’s sleeping in it near the fireplace. The kitten is lying on his back with his paws firmly planted in the air. His eyes are closed, and he doesn’t have a care in the world. It must be nice.
“He’s made himself right at home,” I laugh, glancing around the place that’s now his home. I can tell immediately this is a very nice condo in a swanky building. I recall Landon mentioning a doorman. I shift in my seat nervously. “This place is nice.”
We’re in what I’m guessing is the living room. It’s off an entryway that goes straight to an elevator. The living room area is a step down, dividing it from the open dining room that leads right into a kitchen. It’s big for one person, but I guess if you’ve got money, you might as well spend it.
“Just a place to lay my head.” Landon shrugs, and I know he’s downplaying it to make me feel comfortable. Maybe he isn’t the bloodsucker I thought he was. Heck, this whole day isn’t turning out how I thought it would. Which is an incredibly good thing.
"I hope this is okay and you're not being nice to me out of pity." I don’t want to be a charity case. I can’t figure out why Landon would want to do that, but then again, I didn't foresee Bob Wilson wanting to put a baby inside of me either.
"No, you're not here out of pity." Landon stands, and I notice he's changed out of his slacks and buttoned-up shirt into a T-shirt and sweatpants. He still holds an air of authority, even when dressed casually. "You slept for a while, so you need to eat."
He's not asking if I'm hungry; he’s telling me I need food. I don't think he wants to phrase it as a question because I could protest. He's worded it to get what he wants, and that seems very lawyer-like, but in this regard, he's doing it in a sweet way that has me nodding in agreement.
"I could eat." I try to rub some of the sleep out of my eyes when I notice he’s taken my shoes off.
Sleeping so deeply gave me a sense of safety, and now that I’m awake, everything is fine, more than fine.
“Any allergies I should know about?”
“No.”
“All right, I’ll make us dinner.”
“You’re going to cook?”
“You think I can’t cook?”
“I didn’t say that,” I rush to correct, not wanting to be rude. He’s been nothing but kind to me. “I just thought you were well, you know, and ah…”
“I’m teasing you. Yes, I’m going to cook for us.”
“Can I watch?” He holds out his hand for me to come with him, and when I take it, he pulls me to my feet.
“You want a drink?”
“Water?”
Landon releases my hand but places it on my lower back, guiding me toward the kitchen. “How about water and some juice? You’re still pale.” He pauses to look at me, and then to my surprise, he brushes his thumb across my cheek. The gesture is somehow sweet yet intimate.
"Is this your way of saying I look like crap?"
"You could never look like crap." He pulls a chair out from under the giant kitchen island, and I take a seat. His fingers drift up my back before he steps away, heading for the refrigerator that I mistook for a cabinet until he opened it. This place really is fancy, but I think having an icemaker is living large.
"Now I can't take credit for everything. I didn't make the orange juice." He pours me a glass, and I can tell that it's fresh. "Steven helps me keep this place together and stock things for me."
"Like a house manager?"
"Yeah, but I'm on my own for the next couple of weeks. I guess other people get to take vacations," he says teasingly.
"I am definitely not other people."
