Page 77 of Billionaire Unreachable: Wyatt

I was starving, and whatever she was making smelled incredible.

I shrugged my jacket off and dropped it on a chair at the kitchen island. I walked into the kitchen and snagged her around the waist as she started to sprint to the oven to do something.

“Didn’t we talk about the fact that you’re not here to serve me? You work hard all day, Shelby. You should be in bed.”

She turned, wrapped her arms around my neck, and then shot me a dazzling smile that made my dick instantly hard and changed my mood entirely.

Shit!It was pretty damn difficult for a guy to be in a bad mood when he got to come home to a woman like Shelby.

I kissed her, which was my first priority. I’d been thinking about her all day, which was probably pathetic considering how much time we’d spent together over the weekend.

“I’m not serving you,” she informed me once I’d let her come up for air. “I’m taking care of you because you had to work a really long day. Isn’t that what two people who care about each other do? You’ve taken care of me many times by helping me out with business things in the evenings, taking me out for dinner so I didn’t have to cook, and supporting me in everything I do. Do you have a problem with me staying up a little late to make sure you’re okay? It’s not like I’m usually in bed by nine or ten. I usually don’t sleep until midnight anyway.”

The stubborn look on her face warned me not to argue with her, and I didn’t. It wasn’t the first thoughtful thing Shelby had done for me since I’d known her. I replied honestly, “Your habit of doing nice things for me all the time takes some getting used to. I’m happy to see your beautiful face after a shitty day, but I didn’t expect it.”

She shrugged and gave me a soft kiss before she answered, “Get used to it. You work too hard, and I know you don’t eat when you’re involved with issues at Durand. Sit down,” she instructed as she slipped out of my arms. “The food isn’t a big deal. It’s just a pasta casserole with mushrooms and cheese and some bruschetta bread. You can devour a few more cookies for dessert.”

I smirked as I rolled up my sleeves and sat down. What was no big deal for Shelby would probably take hours of prep in the kitchen for someone else.

I also knew this wasn’t a meal that she’d done for a video earlier. Her whole day had been slotted to work on her cookbook.

She dropped a plate piled with pasta in front of me, and then put a plate of small, toasted French bread slices with tomatoes and parmesan cheese beside it.

I picked up my fork, my stomach rumbling from the smell of the food. “You’re not eating?”

She shook her head as she leaned her ass against the counter with a bottle of water. “I ate some of the casserole and bruschetta earlier. I have a hard time working all day and not eating for sixteen hours. I think you’re superhuman. Did everything work out okay?”

I started to shovel my food down while telling Shelby about the incident at work.

As usual, the food was exceptional, and I felt like a very fortunate asshole to have a woman who cared enough to wait up for me and make sure I ate something substantial.

I probably would have looked for something to make a sandwich and downed a plate of cookies if she’d been asleep.

It felt almost normal to sit here in the evening with Shelby, eating and talking about our days now, but this was something I never wanted to take for granted.

Maybe it was mundane for some people, but I’d spent far too many years alone not to appreciate a woman who cared as much as Shelby did.

It was fucking addicting.

And I was going to hate every night that she was gone until I could go pick her up in Montana.

Thank fuck she’d finally agreed to stop her apartment search and stay here with me now that we were committed to this relationship.

I wouldn’t have to go through the hell of wondering if I was going to be able to get her to stay after her visit to Montana.

Once I’d wolfed down the food, I dropped my fork on my empty plate. “That was incredible, babe.”

The food that had been no big deal to her had tasted like it came from the finest restaurant.

“Cookie?” she teased as she held out the container she’d stored cookies in.

I held up my hand in surrender. “Can’t. Maybe for breakfast.” I reached for my suit jacket and pulled a box and an envelope from the pocket. “I got you a little something.”

I slid the velvet box across the counter first.

She sent me an admonishing look. “Wyatt Durand, you have to stop buying me things. I’m spoiled rotten, and every time I mention anything that I plan on buying for myself, you beat me to it.”

I shrugged. “I like buying you things, and I haven’t really gotten you much.”

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