by C. C. Wood
“I can’t promise that it will taste amazing, but I think it’ll do,” he replied. As he spoke, he reached into the fridge and removed a large glass bowl filled with salad.
“Do you want to eat at the table or is the island okay with you?”
Since I didn’t want to move, I answered, “The island is fine.”
He brought the bowl over and set it to my left.
As I watched him gather plates, cutlery, and tongs for the salad, I forced myself to ask, “Can I do anything to help?”
I honestly didn’t want to get up but I was also uncomfortable sitting around and watching him do all the work while I sat around doing nothing.
“No, thanks. You relax and drink your wine. It’s almost ready.”
I bit back a snicker as he reached into a drawer and pulled out a woven trivet. Then my amusement took a backseat to curiosity. Most of the men I knew didn’t even know what a trivet was, much less own one. Or use it if they did. I wondered who bought it for him.
A few moments later, the thought vanished from my mind because he set the dish of chicken on the trivet and it smelled divine. My mouth watered at the sight of the golden, crispy skin and the roasted potatoes and carrots.
Though I didn’t want to get up, I clambered off the stool and moved to the sink to wash my hands, watching as Landen brought several bottles of salad dressing to the island. I was grateful for that because he would have given me a complex if he started whipping up a vinaigrette. He certainly wasn’t joking when he said he knew how to cook.
Which I should have believed after he made me pancakes the first time I spent the night at his house. Landen wasn’t the type of guy to embellish or outright lie to impress a woman. He might be arrogant but only because he knew he had his shit together. Though I would never tell him that because he was fairly confident all on his own.
“Do you want light meat or dark?” Landen asked.
“I want a drumstick and a chunk of breast meat,” I answered cheekily as I picked up the bottle of white wine and topped off my glass. “Do you want wine or something else?”
“Beer. It’s in the fridge.”
When I returned with the bottle, I tried to twist the top off, hissing when the cap dug into the skin of my palm. “Okay, so it’s not a twist off.”
Landen chuckled. “You okay?” When I nodded, he gestured to the drawer next to the fridge. “There’s a bottle opener in there. Do you mind?”
Mind? The man made me dinner and had an open bottle of wine waiting just for me when I walked in the door. In short, no, I didn’t mind in the least. I grabbed the bottle opener out of the drawer and quickly popped the cap off before tossing said cap into the trash can that he’d cleverly hidden in the cabinet beneath the sink.
The corner of his mouth tilted up as he sliced the chicken breast and pulled a drumstick off the bird. I sat the bottle of beer on the counter in front of him and slid onto my stool as he deposited the meat on my plate.
When he used the meat fork to snag the skin and tug it loose, I looked at him in alarm. “Don’t take the skin. It’s my favorite part.”
Once again, he smirked slightly before draping the skin back over the meat on my plate. “Apologies.”
I made a face at him. “I’ll forgive you this time, but you should know that I get territorial about my food.”
“I think I already picked that up,” he replied dryly. “Especially when you refused to let me have more than a couple of bites of the dessert we ordered at the Greek restaurant.”
I shrugged and proceeded to put a small pile of salad on my plate, followed by another pile of potatoes and carrots. “It was good and you didn’t show the proper amount of appreciation.”
He outright laughed then. “I don’t recall having the opportunity since I barely got the first bite and had to fight for the second. I wasn’t even sure if it tasted good or not.”
“Oh, it was good,” I retorted as I dished up salad for him as well. “We’ll have to go again and you can order your own dessert.”
Landen was still smiling as I picked up my knife and fork and cut off a bit of chicken breast, with the skin. It might not be healthy but the skin truly was the best part when it was crisp and covered with herbs and butter.
He watched as I put the first bite in my mouth. The flavors of lemon, butter, herbs, and spices exploded on my tongue and I closed my eyes in delight.
“This is the best chicken I’ve ever eaten,” I moaned after I swallowed. “You have to give me the recipe.”
“No way,” he refused. “If you want my roast chicken, you’ll have to come over here to eat it. And stay the night.”
I opened one eye and peered at him. “Are you trying to use your cooking as a bribe to get me to move in with you?”
“Maybe. Would it work?”
I shrugged and opened my other eye so I could see to cut another bite of chicken. “That depends on how many dishes you can make and how good they are. I’m not cheap, you know.”
He chuckled. “I guess I should take some cooking classes.”
I nearly choked on the food I just put into my mouth. “Seriously?”
His expression changed then. The teasing light in his eyes turned warmer. Not sexual but affectionate. It made the food in my mouth suddenly tasteless and my heart hammer in my ribcage. He looked almost…loving.
Maybe Landen was in just as deep as I was. Though he was physically affectionate, he wasn’t prone to talking about his emotions. At least not in the short time we’d been together, which was a large part of why I wanted to wait to move in with him. The fact he was so interested in having me in his space said a lot but all the sexual chemistry between us was enough to fry my brain. It would suck if I dove in head first, as he was encouraging me to do, only to discover that after the initial attraction between us faded, we didn’t get along. Or that he lost interest in me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, jolting me out of my thoughts.
I didn’t want to answer him honestly and possibly ruin the wonderful dinner he’d prepared, but I would. Because I would want him to do the same if I asked him a question. Also, I made a mental note to never play poker again. At least not with him. He read my expressions too easily. I wondered if everyone was able to as well or if Landen just had an innate talent for understanding my moods.
“I was thinking about how upset I would be if I moved in with you and we couldn’t get along. Or if you changed your mind once you realized that I can be a pain in the ass to live with.”
He blinked at my words and seemed surprised by my bluntness. If I hadn’t been wound up so tightly, I would have laughed. Landen should know by now that I didn’t mince words. Neither did he and that was a large part of why I liked him. More than liked him if the pounding of my heart was anything to go by.
He reached out and took my hand in his, the expression on his face softening. It was a good look. “That’s why you want to wait, isn’t it? Not because we don’t know each other that well, but because you’re afraid of being hurt.”
I had to smile a little. “They’re part of the same whole, Landen. Because we don’t know each other well, I can’t be sure we would be able to handle living together yet. Neither one of us is used to having someone in our personal space all the time. Issues are bound to pop up and if we’re not equally invested in the relationship, one of us will end up getting hurt and the other will feel horrible for causing that pain.”
His eyes moved over my face. “Do you think I’m not invested in you?”
God, the answer to that question was a minefield. I squeezed his hand. “Clearly you’re invested in me, Landen. You want me to move in. But neither of us has really talked about how we feel. About each other. We have great sexual chemistry and you make me laugh. Challenge me. Those are all good things, but I have no idea how you truly feel about me because you haven’t told me.”
“You haven’t told me either,” he pointed out. He didn’t sound pissed. Or even hurt. Only matter of fa
ct.
“That’s true,” I admitted but said nothing else because my throat tightened to the point that I wasn’t sure I could physically speak. I wanted to talk about this because it was important but I was also afraid that Landen didn’t feel the same way I did. At the moment, it felt like someone had thrown me into the deep end of the pool and I didn’t know how to swim.
He smiled a little. “Scary as hell to talk about your feelings, isn’t it?”
I released a long breath and the muscles of my throat loosened. “Yes, it is.”
Landen lifted a hand and brushed back a few stray curls that had come loose from the clip in my hair. “I’ve wanted you right where you are for nearly a year, Chelsea. I wanted you as soon as I saw you, and every time I came to Chris’ office, it only got worse because I talked to you. Argued with you. The more I learned about you, the worse it got. I started coming up with excuses to drop by, just to talk to you. But the only way I could get a reaction was by pushing you and riling you up. I’d say that’s pretty damn invested.”
It was my turn to blink. Holy shit. I hadn’t been the only one dealing with uncontrollable attraction. But that didn’t sound like him. He was a straightforward man. If he wanted me, he would have said so.
Watching him closely, I said, “You’re a man of action, Landen. Why did you wait so long?”
He laughed then. “Two reasons. You work for Chris and I didn’t want to put him in an uncomfortable position by dating his employee. Especially since I’m his client and friend. Secondly, I wasn’t sure you even liked me. You never backed down and you handed it right back to me when I gave you shit, but you were always cool. Aloof. I don’t think any woman has ever tied me up in knots like that, not even when I was an awkward thirteen-year-old boy.”
I smiled then, remembering how hard I’d worked to keep that facade. Then I took a deep breath. If Landen could talk so openly about his feelings, so could I. I wanted this to work and I knew from watching my parents together and my friends with their men that communication was vital to a happy, healthy relationship.
“I didn’t like you much at first,” I confessed. “I was physically attracted to you, yes, but you annoyed me.” He huffed out a laugh but didn’t interrupt so I continued. “Then I realized that I looked forward to seeing you. That my heart would beat faster when you called to make an appointment or dropped by to see Chris. Arguing with you is…fun. You always challenged my opinions or thoughts but you were never condescending. You seemed to go out of your way to rile me up, so I assumed that you weren’t interested in me.”
“What about now?” he prompted.
Shit, this was much more difficult. Admitting to him what I’d barely just admitted to myself. “I’m falling for you.”
His fingers tightened on mine for a moment, nearly to the point of pain, before they loosened. The corners of his eyes crinkled before he smiled. “I’m glad you told me.” His hand left mine and he cupped the base of my skull in both hands, pulling me closer. Our lips were nearly touching when he said, “Then we’re definitely equally invested.”
I was so focused on the barely there contact of his lips when he spoke that it took me a moment to process his words. Before I could smile in return, he kissed me. It wasn’t demanding or wild. He didn’t take control. He shared the kiss with me. Shared himself.
It felt beautiful.
The kiss drew out into a long moment. A memory that I would keep forever.
Then Landen lifted his mouth and looked down at me. “Let’s eat in bed.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
In retrospect, I should have known that it was too easy.
Sure, Landen and I had our moments, but all in all, our relationship was progressing smoothly, albeit more quickly than I anticipated.
After our heart-to-heart in his kitchen that Monday and the subsequent sex, I’d walked into his bathroom to discover a tray full of toiletries, the exact same brands I kept on my counter at home. All full-sized.
A quick glance at the shower had revealed my usual brand of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash.
I stopped dead and turned toward Landen, who was leaning on the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his bare chest, wearing nothing but his briefs.
“Seriously?” I asked.
He grinned unrepentantly. “I want you to be comfortable here. At home, so to speak.”
Oh yeah, he was definitely using all the ammunition he had at his disposal.
From that night on, we barely slept apart. I either stayed with him in his house or he stayed at my apartment. As he had done for me, I took the time to pick up some things for him to keep in my bathroom. When he saw the toiletries in the bathroom, he’d grinned and dragged me into the shower with him, where he’d washed me with his favored soap.
They were a blissful few weeks. While we spent a lot of time enjoying each other’s bodies, we also talked, argued, laughed, and sometimes merely sat in silence as we did our own thing. Having him around was never annoying or stifling as I thought it might be. We did our own thing during the workday, but we spent nearly every night together.
The ease in which we slipped into coupledom should have warned me, but I was too happy. Too busy falling in love.
Neither of us said the words, but I had more confidence that Landen’s feelings mirrored my own.
Until one Friday morning. Landen was planning another trip to Oregon. The man embezzling money from his company had been fired and arrested two weeks prior and Landen wanted to handle some restructuring. Upper management was scrambling to fill the vacant position and he wanted to do it in-house and promote people from within the company.
As he showered and packed for his flight, I went downstairs to make a pot of coffee. Though I was already dressed for work, I’d yet to put on make-up and shoes. When my foot hit the bottom step on the stairs, the doorbell rang.
Wondering who would be stopping by before seven a.m., I moved to the door and peeked through the wavy glass. A woman stood on the steps, tall and slender.
I opened the door, more curious than anything else. “Hi, can I help you?”
The woman smiled at me, her expression warm and friendly. Her dark hair was pulled back in a low roll at the base of her skull and her make-up was perfect, not too heavy yet just enough to play up her best features. Like her sparkling hazel eyes. She clasped a leather portfolio to her chest with her other arm.
“Good morning. You must be Chelsea!” She stepped forward and held out her hand.
Taken aback not only by the warmth of her greeting but also by the fact that she knew my name, I took her fingers in mine. Her hand was warm and firm, the kind of handshake I often received from female executives.
“Good morning. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t remember you if we’ve met,” I stated, flustered and off balance. Especially since I was without make-up or my business-like pumps with three-inch heels. The woman would have still been taller than me even in her bare feet, but I felt at a distinct disadvantage and the shoes would have helped somewhat.
The smile faded slightly from her face. “Landen didn’t mention me, did he?”
My stomach tied itself into a hard, ugly knot that made me feel more than a little sick. “I’m afraid not.”
The woman sighed but she looked frustrated more than hurt, which relieved some of the pressure in my abdomen. “That man,” she muttered, shaking her head. “For such an intelligent human being, he can sure as hell be stupid.”
Despite my discomfort, the corner of my mouth curved upward in a reluctant smile. “Well, why don’t you come in and tell me who you are.”
Her responding smile was rueful but did nothing to detract from her striking appearance as she stepped inside the house and shut the door behind her. When I backed up to give her room to enter, my hips nudged the wall. I stopped moving then and waited as she studied me for a long moment.
“Maybe I should let him—”
I shook my head. “Please. Just tell me whatever it is
that Landen didn’t mention.” I didn’t think I could remain calm and pleasant with the concrete ball sitting in my gut.
The woman took a deep breath and visibly braced herself. My stomach sank more. “I’m Maris Weber. I’m Landen’s business partner and ex-wife.”
I was suddenly glad to have the wall at my back because my legs felt boneless. “Ex-wife?” I repeated on a whisper.
Maris looked upset and took a small step forward. “It’s a long story but nothing horrible, I swear.”
My skin felt icy cold despite the bright morning sun pouring in through the windows around the front door. “He never told me he was married before,” I mused, mostly to myself.
Maris’ brows lowered and drew together. “Damn idiot man,” she grumbled. Her eyes were warm and, to my embarrassment, sympathetic, as she looked at me. “Why don’t we have a cup of coffee and talk until Landen comes down?”
I stared at her as though she’d grown a third eye in her forehead. “What?”
“Okay, how about we have a cup of coffee and plot his murder?”
Despite the horrible chill that seized my body, I released a bark of laughter. “That sounds more appropriate.”
Without waiting to see if she’d follow, I turned on my heel and headed into the kitchen, struggling with my emotions as I walked. Now that the shock was wearing off, I was pissed as hell.
I wanted to be mad at her, but I knew it wasn’t her fault that Landen hadn’t mentioned their previous marriage. If she was pretending to be surprised that Landen kept it a secret, she was a much better actress than any woman I’d ever met.
As I took two coffee cups down from the cabinet and set up the machine to brew, Maris reached into the fridge and pulled out a carton of half and half. After she set it on the counter next to me, she moved to the kitchen island and perched on one of the barstools.
“Okay, so I know this is awkward,” she began, which caused another short, almost painful burst of laughter to escape from my throat. “But it doesn’t have to be. Landen and I…our marriage was a mistake. There was no cheating or ugliness. We were just better friends than spouses. I still care for him but not the way a woman cares for the man she loves. When he told me he was seeing someone special and started talking about you more and more, I was glad to see him happy.”