Page 17 of King of Lies
Rhys said he would be back tonight and that it would be late, but he didn’t say how late. Only that he would come straight to me. That thought fills me with nerves, only this time, the good kind. It’s a heady feeling that a man like Rhys would come straight to me when he gets home from a trip. It’s sexy and romantic and I’m selfishly glad that it’s for me. It’s mine.
He said that he would be hungry for supper and for me so when I finish my coffee, I decide to set about making dinner. I’m terrible with distractions when I’m nervous so cooking an actual meal tonight is not a good idea. My uncles gave me a small slow cooker when I moved into this apartment so that when I don’t bum meals from them I can still have a decent meal when I get home from work. I pull it out of the cabinet and set it on the counter, plugging it in.
I chop new potatoes, carrots, green beans, and an onion, tossing them all in the pot as I go. I pull the steak that I bought yesterday out of the fridge and cut it into big, rough chunks before tossing them in a bag of seasoned flour. I sear the steak in a small cast iron pan, also from my uncles, and let the aromas fill the room.
I fill the slow cooker with beef stock and turn it on low so that it can start to cook while I flip the steak in the pan. When the sides are good and crisp, I toss the chunks into the slow cooker with the rest of the seasoned flour to thicken into a gravy while it cooks. If I don’t forget about it later, I have a tube of biscuits I can cook to go with or use to make a strawberry shortcake. Actually, the thought of sweet strawberries and whipped cream sounds fantastic, so that’s what I’ll do.
I heat the oven and lay the biscuits on the tray to bake. I chop some strawberries and sprinkle some sugar on them to sweeten while they set in the fridge, but I pick more than a few out while chopping them. When the biscuits are done, I eat two and burn the tip of my tongue. They are so delicious, it doesn’t matter.
I look around and realize I’ve made a huge mess in the kitchen so I clean it as fast as I can. Then I move through the small space of my apartment and straighten whatever is out of place. I move into my bedroom and make the bed and straighten the pillows, just in case. Although I’m still scared, I’m leaning more and more toward … maybe. I’ll make up my mind when I see him. But he’s right, I miss him and I know it.
It’s afternoon already and I look a mess, so I quickly jump in the shower and carefully scrub every inch of my body. I wash my hair and shave my legs. I’m refusing to admit why I’m making such an effort. Denial is currently my best friend.
I shut off the tap and rub the water away with a towel. I comb out my hair and dry it with a round brush, so it falls in loose, dark waves past my shoulders. But then I wonder if it looks like I’m trying too hard. Instead, I twist it up into a messy bun on top of my head and pull a few tendrils down around my neck and face.
I dust a little blush on my cheeks and a quick coat of mascara on my lashes. A pink gloss on my lips finishes the effect. But standing here naked with my hair up and soft makeup, I look like a character out of a historical romance novel. I roll my eyes at myself and then head into my closet. I pull on panties and a matching bra and try not to think about and hope that a man like Rhys won’t be disappointed in the plain white cotton. If I had pulled on anything else, I wouldn’t feel true to me.
I pull on black leggings and a ballet pink tank, adding a plain loose sweater that twists in the back making its soft gray color a little more exciting. I leave my feet bare and put on no jewelry. I didn’t go anywhere today, so why would I be super dressed up? It doesn’t make any sense and I don’t want to be fake. This is enough.
But now that I’m ready, and dinner is probably done, I have no idea when Rhys will be here. With nothing to do but be still and wait, I feel my anxiety creeping in. I pace a bit and then decide that won’t do. I’ll only work myself up more. Instead, I see the unfinished romance novel on the coffee table next to the beautiful orchids. I snatch up the book like a lifeline and I plop down onto the sofa and grab the throw that I had artfully folded earlier and wrap it around me. I let myself sink headfirst into the story and the world and all my worries fall away.
That is until two hours later, when there’s a knock at my door and reality comes rushing back.
“Oh God,” I whisper as I toss the book aside and stand. The throw pools on the sofa around where I was sitting, and while the rest of my apartment looks presentable, that one spot looks very cozy and lived in. Something I don’t bother to fuss about as I rush to the door when a second knock sounds.
I pull open the door and he’s there, standing on my doorstep, for me. When he sees me, a sexy smile blooms on his face and it takes the very breath from my lungs.
“I missed you,” he says breaking the silence, his deep voice sounding like a growl. It’s then that I make my decision, just like I had a feeling I would.
“I missed you too.”
“Did you now, Hen?”
“Yes,” I answer and then take a deep breath and push open the door to admit him into my home. “Would you like to come in?”
“Aye.”
He walks into my house and drop his head back, closing his eyes. His face is awash with pleasure when he asks me, “What is that smell?”
“Beef stew?” I ask even though it’s not a question.
He’s so raw and open right now, nothing is hidden, and I want to drown in that feeling when he shares himself with me.
“I fucking love beef stew,” he groans.
“Really?” I laugh. “That’s a funny thing to love.”
“No,” he says. “My mum made it on occasion when we were little, and it still has warm memories attached to it … Now it has new ones. Still just as good.”
“That’s sweet,” I tell him as he steps toward me and pulls me into his arms. I rest my hands on his strong chest and tip my head back to look at him, a happy smile pulling at my mouth.
“Now, Hen,” he says, his eyes dark and hungry. “Tell me again that you missed me.”
“I missed you,” I whisper.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“Okay.”
