Page 33 of War's Witch
Fifteen
CLEO
My back aches from working on clients all day. All I want to do when I get home is have a hot soak in the bath, eat something comforting, pour myself a glass of wine, and slip into bed with a good book, reading until I fall asleep.
I’m not working tomorrow, so I can sleep in—no alarms, no appointments, ahh bliss. The studio is getting busier, so I talked to the guys today about the possibility of hiring a new artist.
Turning into my street, as I inch closer to my house, I see a familiar bike parked in my driveway. My body fills with trepidation after today’s incident at the studio. War acted like a dick, and it got me thinking that I need to override the horny side to my brain and maybe tell him to skip hoops before I fall too far.
The headlights from my car heighten War’s silhouette as he leans against his bike. His arms are folded across his chest, and his ankles crossed.
He turns his head, looking at me through the windshield, and my heart flip-flops in my chest at the sight of him. I am pissed at what he did today at Rugged Ink, but something about him being near me soothes something in me.
Turning off the car, I step out, collecting my purse before shutting the door. I step closer, spying a brown paper bag with a familiar logo on it.
“You went to Claude’s Diner.”
He stands to full height, a smirk in place, but I see some hesitation in his eyes.
“I did. The lady there helped me with what you liked.” He rubs the back of his neck in a nervous way.
What does he have to be nervous about?
Picking the bag up off the ground, I inch closer to him. The mixed aroma coming from the bag of food and him makes me inwardly groan.
“Something occurred to me tonight and I am not a fucking fan of it, baby,” he starts. “I know nothing about you, and that is because you won’t let me get close. As cheesy as it fucking sounds, I want to date you, Cleo. Something or someone hurt you before, and it’s stopping you from having some form of happiness with someone—with me.”
As I listen to his words, my heart recognizes something in him. I sigh and walk past him to my front door and unlock it, before looking over my shoulder at him.
“You might as well come in. I am fucking starving.” A satisfied smirk crosses his handsome face.
Turning to walk into my house, I give him my back so he cannot see my smile. Dumping my purse on the chair that I have by my front door, I kick off my boots, then pad my way to the kitchen.
I gather us some plates as War pulls out the food he has brought me, but from the smell, I know that he got my favorite.
“I have no idea what the old lady put in here; she handed me what she said was your usual,” he explains.
Frowning at him, I think over the staff who works at Claude’s and there is no older lady that works there.
“What lady? There is only Claude who works in the kitchen. His two granddaughters and grandson when he is not in school and daughter work the floor.”
He stops what he is doing and looks at me. “Are you sure? White hair in a bun, purple makeup?”
“No. Never seen her before.” I shrug.
“Well, she knew you, baby. Said your name and told me what you like. Hell, she even laughed when I told her that you were my woman. Described your traits to a T.” He winks.
I turn his words over in my mind, searching for any trace of the woman he described, but nothing comes to mind. Yet, something feels strange about what he said, something bone deep, and I cannot put my finger on why I feel like this.
I shake off the feeling; there is nothing I can do about it now. I look down at the food and my stomach grumbles, making him chuckle.
“Come on, we can talk while we eat. You need to fill me in on who hurt you, baby.”
His voice is like smooth melted chocolate, mixed with genuine sincerity, and it makes me want to confess everything to him.
War watches me quietly, his smirk on his face, as I unload our food, letting him watch me. This feels very domesticated as he then flits around my kitchen like he belongs there, getting us drinks.
Shit, he does look good in my house. As I watch him from the corner of my eye, my lips twitch, liking what I am seeing.
