Page 21 of Lost in You (The Monroes 3)

“I want to throw a surprise birthday party for my dad,” she explained, shoving her hands in the pockets of her jeans. The sharp stab to her palm from the teeth on her keys kept her in check. “I can’t cook to save my life, but I can read, so I figure I can attempt to follow a recipe. I’ll need to borrow some of your easier ones, though.”

For a split second she couldn’t read his expression and feared he was about to close the door in her face. But then he threw his head back and laughed. A full-blown laugh from the gut. She couldn’t remember a time she’d actually heard him laugh. Surely she had when they’d been younger, but she couldn’t place it. And she wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear it now, considering she was the butt of whatever private joke he was sharing with himself.

Pulling her hands out, Macy crossed her arms and tilted her chin. “What is so funny?” she had to practically yell so she could make sure he heard her.

Once he composed himself, there was still a shimmer of pleasure in his dark eyes. Okay, so maybe she didn’t mind taking the hit to the ego if he was going to have a moment of happiness. Now that she thought about it, she not only hadn’t heard him laugh, she rarely ever saw him smile.

“I don’t have recipe cards or a cookbook.” His face sobered instantly. “Well, I have one cookbook, but I won’t loan it out.”

“How do you cook if you don’t have anything?” Between the laughter and his obvious lack of wanting to help, Macy was more than done here. “If you don’t want to help, that’s fine, but I thought you would have something simple I could try to do. Forget I stopped by.”

Macy turned and started for the steps, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Don’t go. I didn’t mean to laugh.”

She threw a glare over her shoulder. “I’m pretty sure you did.”

Liam dropped his hand and shrugged. “Maybe, but you showing up at my door to ask for recipes was about the last thing I ever would’ve expected.”

Macy backed away from the top step and turned to face him. “Then how do you cook if you don’t have anything to look at? Do you have recipes online you could print out or e-mail me?”

He shook his head. Why was he being so damn stubborn and hardheaded?

“I tend to make things up as I go along or I’ll experiment at home, then try it out at the resort.”

Macy watched him, but realized he wasn’t joking. “I can’t make a frozen waffle turn out right and you can pull random recipes out of your head on a whim?”

“We all have our talents.”

And his talents were adding up. He was a master chef, he could console without a single word, and he answered the door looking like every woman’s secret fantasy.

Macy started to wonder what her talent was, then realized the only thing she’d ever been good at was softball. But she didn’t want to start thinking about that right now. She couldn’t handle too much at once. Besides, all of that was in the past and now she was moving forward, inching toward that family goal she’d always wanted.

“I just thought this would be a simple fix,” she muttered, mostly to herself. Starting to feel defeated, she shrugged. “With all that’s going on, I was hoping for one easy thing. Sorry I interrupted your workout.”

“I was just relieving some frustration with my punching bag.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “What’s your stress reliever?”

Macy laughed. “I don’t have time for a stress reliever.”

“All the more reason you need one,” he replied. “Come on in.”

Macy gave him the side-eye. “Why?”

A lopsided grin had her stomach doing flips. “You’re about to get sweaty.”

Chapter Five

What the hell had he been thinking inviting her in like that?

First, he hadn’t expected her to show up at his door, but she’d been fidgeting, biting that bottom lip, and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else than asking him for help. Then she’d gotten frustrated and quite possibly embarrassed.

Macy had pride, a trait he admired in anyone, but she was strong, determined, and went out of her way to help others. Her father was the same way, but Liam knew there was something in her past that made her who she was today. He recognized that stubborn streak, recognized the brokenness she tried to hide, and damn if that didn’t make him more attracted.

Which was utterly ridiculous. He’d made a huge mistake with her already and he couldn’t afford to lose sight of his ultimate goal. And other than this obvious attraction, what did they have in common? Why should he push forward and allow himself to feel when he knew full well that this wasn’t his forever home?

“Follow me.”

He led her toward his bedroom, where his free stand punching bag sat in the corner. His eyes traveled toward the messy bed, instantly remembering her wrapped in his sheets.

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