Page 55 of Forgotten Comeback
Twenty-Two
Taylor
“Gavin, this is unhinged,” I argue, peeking out the blinds. Sure enough, the man’s standing at my door.
“As unhinged as your back door?” he counters.
“Ugh!” Ending the call, I march downstairs and fling open the front door. “Come in. You’ve already given my neighbor enough to talk about.”
“If you insist.” He saunters into my living room, a tool kit in one hand, a large paper bag in the other.
“I don’t insist,” I inform him. “You’re the one who tracked me down like a psychopath and invited yourself.”
“And aren’t you glad I did, because I brought lunch. Come eat while I change out your lock.”
“Can I really trust a man who stalked me and broke into my apartment?” I cross my arms.
“Andreturned your panties. You left out the most important part,” he says solemnly.
Narrowing my eyes, I tell him, “That was a rhetorical question. The answer is clearlyno.”
“Come eat. That lock isn’t going to change itself.” He takes off to the kitchen.
“Of course, you know the way to my kitchen,” I snipe, chasing after him.
I should call the cops. I should kick him out. I should stop checking out his ass. A damn fine backside, not to mention the front view. The man knows what he’s doing in those gray sweatpants.
Gavin smirks as he begins unscrewing the door handle, and I avert my gaze. Busying myself with the food, I unpack a drink carrier with smoothies and takeout boxes. “Pick what you want. I ordered a couple of different things,” he tells me.
I open boxes, finding salads, protein bowls, and fruit. My stomach twists in a knot. Is this a subtle hint about my weight?
“I’m taking my training seriously,” Gavin explains, and I feel silly for jumping to conclusions. “Cutting out all the booze, weed, cigarettes, and junk.”
“Good for you,” I tell him sincerely, choosing a chicken bowl and a smoothie before taking a seat at the table.
He nods. “A fiery redhead challenged me to get my ass in gear.”
I eye him suspiciously. “Gavin, what are you doing?”
“Changing out your lock.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I need the old key.”
Sighing, I hop up and grab my keys from the living room table, twisting the key off my key ring. Returning, I hand it to Gavin and watch him work as I take a seat. “How do you know how to change a lock?” I’m not completely helpless as far as home projects, but I’d need a step-by-step tutorial and a few hours of cursing.
“Jack of all trades.”
“Master of none,” I finish the phrase.
“Master of your pussy, seeing that you squirted like a fire hose,” he says with pride.
“Oh my God, will you stop?” I groan, red creeping up my neck.
He smiles smugly, grabbing a different tool.
“Come eat before your food gets cold,” I find myself telling him.
