Page 50 of Love Undercover
All because of what she’d said. He hadn’t told her that, but it had been a physical presence that shifted after she’d spoken. Just like with her students. She’d studied that in grad school—the tactics for emotional regulation, the developing brain, the way the amygdala processes environmental triggers, etc. And it still shocked her how effective the strategies she’d learned were.
Even on grown men.
“Are you going to finish making your hippie deodorant?” Chase asked, walking toward the fridge for water.
She looked at the stove, all the supplies still set up and ready for her. “Is that the best use of my time, considering?”
He glanced out the window over the sink. It was a straight-shot to the treetops that lined his long driveway. “Santiago won’t hit until nightfall. I’m planning for us to head out right before he does.” He met her gaze. “You’re going to need it, aren’t you?”
Her shoulders inched toward her ears with her discomfort. “I suppose so. But shouldn’t I pack or something?”
He lifted a brow as he took a slug of his water. “Pack what? You’re wearing the only outfit you’ve got.”
She looked down at herself, frowning. With the hole already in the pants, she wondered exactly how much longer the outfit would even last. “Yeah, about that,” she started.
“It’s on my list,” he interrupted, smirking a little.
A ball of warmth spread through her chest, and a soft breath escaped her lips. “You have a list?”
He smile deepened, then turned to set his water on the counter. “I’ll hop in the shower while you do your thing.”
That was as much of a dismissal of the topic as any. But she sure as heck wasn’t going to let him have the last word.He had a list.
She could do something for him, too. “Then I can take care of your hands.”
He spared his knuckles a fleeting glance as he moved toward the bedroom. “They’re fine.”
“Chase,” she warned.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.”
Satisfied, she turned to the stove, igniting the burner so she could get the water boiling again. The coconut oil in the bowl had re-solidified, so while waiting for it to melt, she measured out the cornstarch and baking soda. Once it was ready, she poured the liquefied mixture into a small container she’d found in the cabinets, pleased to discover that he used glass instead of plastic for food storage. No doubt he’d roll his eyes at her if she mentioned it, though.
But his reactions didn’t feel condescending like Greg’s always had. Maybe because Greg looked down on most of the things she was passionate about. Which made her wonder why he’d ever wanted to be with her in the first place. Or why she’d stuck around as long as she had. It had been an exciting whirlwind at the start, and that thrill lured her in, as usual. But then she’d stayed in it.
Maybe because she’d always been labeled fickle, she’d wanted to show everyone that she could commit to something long-term, go with the stable guy for once. And that turned out to be the worst decision she could’ve made.
She put the lid on the container and set it aside to cool and solidify for later use, and turned as Chase came back from his room. His wet hair was combed back, and he wore jeans and a plain, green t-shirt. In his hand was a half-full black duffel bag, probably stuffed with his clothes and toiletries. He moved toward the extra room, casting his gaze in her direction like he didn’t want her to see.
Rolling through the possibilities of what lay in that room and what he might need to pack for whatever came next made her stomach twist. So she focused on bringing the pot of water from her deodorant efforts to the sink, dumping the water, and then washing the measuring cups she’d used. There were spills all over the counter, proof of her endeavors, so she turned to grab some paper towels to wipe them down.
With only one square left, she went searching in the cabinets for more. There was an unopened roll under the sink next to a small trashcan that was full. So she set the paper towels on the floor, digging deeper in the cupboard to find the extra trash bags. Several bottles of cleaning products were knocked over, and she went to work setting them upright.
By the time, she finished, she’d forgotten what she had set out to do in the first place until she noticed the full trashcan again.She finally pulled out the roll of bags to change it, straightening as she yanked the drawstring tight.
“Are you doing chores?”
She started and dropped the bag on the floor, jerking her hand back like she’d been burned.
“Cripes,” she hissed, placing a palm against her pounding heart as she turned to face him.
“Sorry.” He’d brought the duffel back into the living room, setting it on the couch to situate the contents. His biceps pulled against the sleeves of his shirt as he moved, reminding her what was underneath.
She swallowed. “It’s fine. I was just changing the trash bag out. It was full.”
“I’ll take it out in a few minutes,” he said, distracted by the duffel in front of him.
But she was not distracted in the least.
