Page 18 of Tender Heart
I snap the curtain to one side and step out. Drying off quickly, I wrap the towel around my waist and run downstairs. The last thing I need is a hurt tenant. They don’t tend to stick around.
At first, I don’t see her. Then, my gaze catches onto scrambled eggs scattered over the floor. A foot sticking out from behind the small kitchen counter.
Jesus Christ.
Rushing around the counter, I find her sitting up against it, nursing her hand. The pan, which I am assuming she cooked the eggs in, lies beside her on the floor.
“I burned it.” She nods to her hand. It shakes as she holds it.
“Christ, lemme see.” I crouch at her side and take her hand.
Her eyes wander my face before falling to my bare chest. They widen, and I remember I’m only covered by a towel. And by the look on her face before it turned bright crimson and quickly snapped to the side, the towel isn’t doing much to cover me. Standing, I adjust the towel and drop my hand down to help herup. She slides her good one into it and pushes to her feet as I take her weight on one fucking arm.
“Sorry, I get a little lightheaded on low blood sugar. The pan was heavier than I thought. Then I tried to save it mid-fall...”
Even injured, she’s apologizing. I grind my molars at her lack of self-preservation.
“Here, under the running water.” I turn on the tap and she moves to the sink with me as I slide her hand into the cold stream of water. So close, her scent clouds around me. Her upper arm presses to mine, her fine collarbones still exposed, her sleeve hanging off her shoulder. The slight curve of her upper breast pushes out the soft fabric.
Damn, this close I . . .
Evie closes her eyes, leaning on the sink, her good hand grabbing the edge.
“Eggs looked good,” I grunt, desperate to focus on anything but the way her body molds against mine.
She huffs a shy laugh through a slim smile before opening her eyes. “Yeah, I’m starving.”
“Keep your hand in here. I’ll make eggs. But you eat them how they’re made.”
She nods and I clean up the eggy mess before working my way through the kitchen. I return the pan to the heat and add a wad of butter. Cracking four eggs into it, I shunt them around when they start to cook. It’s only when I turn back to plate the food that my body washes with goosebumps.
Hell, forgot I’m only wearing a towel.
As the chill sinks in, I adjust the only cover on my body.
Evie’s gaze hasn’t left me. Her hand is still in the sink, but it’s moved out of the water stream, like she’s forgotten about it.
I clear my throat. “Think you can manage to toss this lot onto a plate while I get dressed?”
Her mouth opens, then closes.
I turn off the heat and give the eggs one more push around.
“Yes, I can do that,” she finally says, her face gone from slack to all business.
“Back in a minute.” I leave her with the food. By the time I make it to my hut, I’m hard as a fucking rock again.
Seven
EVIE
One would think after our encounter with the shower and then the eggs and bacon, some kind of progress would have been made between Callum and me.
I mean, not like there’s a Callum and me.
Just, that . . .
With a sigh, my forehead hits my keyboard. The one I’ve been staring at for hours only to get down a whole one hundred and twenty-eight words. Fire Island can be kind of lonely, even for a hermit like me. And that little burst of time we spent together over a fortnight ago felt like something I can’t explain.
