Page 23 of Tormented Bastard
The Devil’s in the Details
Chase
I spent most of the night tossing and turning, trying like hell to forget that the woman I’d let waltz out of my life twice was sleeping under my roof. I always thought if I ever had her in my house again, she’d be in my bed too. But if there was one thing I’d learned about life over the last several years it was that nothing goes the way you think it will.
I’d just fallen asleep when the sound of pounding rain and howling wind lashing against the thick, heavy sliding glass door woke me up. I glanced at my phone to see it was a little after six in the morning but looked like the dead of night. The weather app showed the storm hadn’t quite made it to shore yet, meaning conditions on the island were going to get worse before they got better. We still had power, but I didn’t expect that to last much longer before the generator would have to kick in.
After relieving myself, I went in search of coffee, but halfway down the hall, I was greeted with the smell of frying bacon and eggs. I stopped, knowing I should turn around and head back to my bedroom. But then my stomach rumbled, my ham and swiss sandwich long gone. I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed, then walked to the kitchen.
I rounded the corner to find Eden standing at the stove, flipping an egg and singing along—terribly off-key—to Bob Marley. Damn it all to hell, I did not want to be charmed by her or be reminded of days gone by.
I leaned against the bar behind her. She was so lost in the song, she didn’t even know I was there. I bit my lip to fight back a chuckle. The fast track of event planning in New York City had suppressed her fun side. Lightness spread through my chest seeing her loosen up and the Eden I once knew emerge.
My gaze slid from the blonde messy knot on top of her head down to the snug tank top that covered her breasts, and then to the belly that flared into curvy hips. The curve of her hips had been one of my favorite things about Eden. She was all woman, no stick figure. The flimsy pajama shorts she wore covered her ass but just barely, stopping high on her thighs. I shifted the growing tightness in my pants and bit back a groan.
She turned around, her head bobbing, hips swinging—shit, she needed to stop that right now—and froze, her eyes wide as saucers when she saw me. I smiled. “Good morning.”
Her eyes darted away, and she reached for a couple of slices of bread before turning back around and moving toward the toaster. “Morning,” she mumbled.
“Smells good. Looks like you really have learned your way around a kitchen.”
Her smile was shy. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure, thanks.”
“Still take it light?”
I nodded. She moved around the kitchen as though she’d been cooking in it for years. Within moments, she set a mug of steaming coffee in front of me. I sipped and hummed in approval. It was exactly how I liked it.
“That’s good coffee.”
The smile on her face made her look just like she had back in college. “Well, you have good coffee and a rocking coffee maker. Hard to screw it up.”
I chuckled. “So should I be worried that you’re cooking? I mean, it smells edible.” In fact it smelled amazing.
A pang hit my gut when the smile on her lips went from genuine to as tight as the little top she wore. Bacon popped, and she moved to tend to it. “No, you’ll be fine, I promise.”
“So where did you pick up your skills? Take some fancy New York cooking classes?”
She shook her head, keeping her gaze on the strips of pork. “When my mom got sick and I started taking care of her, I had to learn to cook. She couldn’t go places, and there were only a few things she could eat that wouldn’t make her sick.”
I studied her, letting her words sink into the silence. “I know I said it before, but I’m sorry about your mom.”
She half turned to me, her mouth softening a bit. “Thanks. She’s better off now.” I heard the words she didn’t say. Eden was better off now too.
With her chin, she gestured toward the living area that held floor-to-ceiling windows. “It’s gotten worse, I see.”
Change of subject. That didn’t surprise me. Eden and her mother’s relationship had been rocky at best and downright toxic at its worst. From what little I knew about her mother, I had to wonder if she really could only eat a few things or if she was just being difficult with Eden because she could. But it wasn’t my business to ask, not that she’d tell me anyway. I recognized the shuttered emotion in her eyes. It was the same look I saw in the mirror every day, and had for the last several years.
“The forecast is calling for it to get a lot worse before it gets better. We’re going to take a decent hit from it, and it’s been upgraded to a hurricane. I expect the power to go out anytime now.”
“Do you have a generator?”
I nodded, sipping my coffee. “Yep, whole home. You won’t miss a beat. Not much of one anyway.”
Eden took a bite from a piece of bacon and nodded. “Good.” With a flick of her slim wrist—when did she get that half-moon tattoo?—the gas flame went out. “I hope you’re hungry. I went a little overboard. I’m hungry this morning.”
She plated the bacon, eggs, and toast, sliding it over to me before plating her own. I lifted a brow as I looked at the scrambled eggs topped with cheese. I lifted my gaze to her. “You remembered.”
