by Isabel North
“He’s giving me a place to stay until I can find somewhere to buy.”
“See, I had no idea you two even knew each other at all, let alone knew each other well enough that you’d stay in his guest room.”
“Yeah.”
She rolled her wrist in an invitation for him to expand.
“Known him a while.”
“A while?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to break out my advance interrogation techniques in a minute, Burke. Some you might enjoy. Most you won’t.”
“Known him since I was eight.”
“Eight? Are you kidding?”
Burke studied her. A tiny smile pulled at his lips. “Why does that make you angry?”
“I don’t know.” She huffed. “Yes, I do know. It seems like everyone knows you, and has known you for years, and I didn’t meet you until the coffee shop. It’s hard not to take it personally. I feel left out. It’s almost as if the universe decided to hide you from me until it was too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“Nothing.” Lila shivered in her thin blouse.
Burke strode to the dresser and went through the drawers. He selected a sweatshirt and held it out to her.
“I will launder everything and have it back to you tomorrow,” she promised, taking it from him.
“No rush.”
She dropped the sweatshirt over her head and snuggled into it. “Mmm. Cozy.”
Burke tried not to laugh.
“What?” Lila said, eyes twinkling. “It’s not too big, is it?”
He held up a finger and thumb a pinch apart.
“Don’t care. It’s cozy. I am having dark and covetous thoughts about stealing it.”
The thought of Lila curled on her couch, watching television while wrapped in his sweatshirt, did weird things to him. He wanted to tell her to go ahead and keep it. He settled for—fantastic—a wordless grunt. Coughing to cover his complete lack of cool, he sat beside her again.
They were silent for a moment, then they both spoke at the same time.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Lila said.
“You want to stay for dinner?” Burke said.
After another moment of mutual silence, they both said, “Yes.”
“My god,” Lila said. “We’re adorable.”
“Wait there.” Burke went to the door and yelled, “Kurt! Put some pants on!”
“I’m dressed!” Kurt bellowed back.
Burke tipped his head at Lila. “Let’s go.”
He stepped aside for her to precede him, and followed her down the stairs. “To your right,” he said as she hit the bottom.
Lila executed a neat spin on her heel, and marched into the kitchen. “What are we having? Takeout? My treat.”
“I’m cooking.”
“You cook, too?”
Burke’s cheeks warmed. He nodded.
“Do you bake? Are you a secret cupcake wizard?”
“If I baked, would I be getting my cupcake fix at the coffee shop?”
“You have a point.”
Lila pulled out a chair from the small kitchen table and dropped into it. She propped her chin on her fists, watching him as he busied himself digging through the cabinets, taking down pots and pans.
He started a pan of water and took a packet of ground beef from the fridge. He paused and ran a critical eye over her before looking back at the meat.
Lila raised a brow in amusement. “Are you cooking me? I must warn you, I am tough.”
She’d be sweet and soft and melt in his mouth. Stop it. “Do you have any food allergies? Preferences? Anything you won’t eat?”
“Nope. I’m an omnivore. Like a bear. Or a racoon. Why are you checking me out?”
His head snapped up. “I wasn’t checking you out, I was thinking.”
“Care to share?”
His warm cheeks flared to a full blush. God, no. He was not going to share. She’d slap him.
He turned to focus on unwrapping the meat. “You have a great body…that is to say, an athletic… Uh, you clearly take good care of yourself and I thought perhaps you didn’t eat carbs, or…” Shit, this was getting worse.
Lila had gotten up from the table and now she rested a hand low on his back. “Thanks for the compliment.” She came around and hopped up to sit on the counter. “And this is hard work at the gym, not restrictive dieting. I don’t go in for that shit. Despite what Jenny seems to think. Just because she eats like someone once told her the secret to long life and great skin is to consume as much white bread and sugar as possible.”
Burke began chopping an onion.
“Tell me we don’t go to the same gym and I’ve been missing you every damn day for years,” Lila said.
“Hah.” Burke shook his head. “No. Not my thing.”
“Too many people?”
Burke shrugged and threw the onions into a frying pan. “I prefer to run. Be outside.” He washed his hands. “Sometimes I spar with Kurt.”
“Well,” Lila said blankly. “I’d buy tickets to that show.”
Burke looked up from drying his hands, and caught her gaze with his. His breath came short. The pulse at the base of her throat, revealed by the loose neckline of his sweatshirt, was beating fast.
“What show?” Kurt wandered in, breaking the heavy silence.
Lila leaned to the side and said, “The glorious spectacle of Burke pounding you in the ring. Woah. Wrong way to say it, although I’d definitely buy—”
She burst into giggles when Burke covered her mouth with his hand. He laughed down at her.
“I win at least thirty percent of the time,” Kurt said, pulling a beer from the fridge and popping the top.
“Right.” Burke said to Lila, “Twenty-five percent, and I’m being generous to spare his delicate ego in front of a lady.”
“Hmm,” was all she said.
He straightened, offended. “You don’t think I can beat Kurt?”
She looked between them. “It’s not like I’m a fan of MMA and have a subscription to a UFC channel and watch all the big fights or anything—” she crossed her legs, “—but Kurt’s smaller. He’s probably faster. And he’s an asshole. I’ll bet he cheats.”
Kurt was smaller, Burke thought with satisfaction.
“You’d think it’s an advantage,” Kurt said. “It isn’t. Burke’s vicious.”
Lila scoffed. “This guy?” She reached up and cupped Burke’s face, angled it to Kurt. “This guy right here?”
Kurt grinned. “Honey, don’t be fooled by the quiet and reserved exterior. There’s a lot more to Burke than a cute face.”
Burke disengaged himself. “I do not have a cute face.” He was homely.
“Yeah, you do.” Lila tapped a soft fingertip between his eyebrows. “Even your scary frown is cute.”
He eyed her, then gripped her hips and slid her sideways along the counter. Fast. “I need room to cook.”
Lila yelped, and blew her hair back off her face once Burke released her and got serious with the meatballs.
“What’s for dinner, dear?” Kurt asked, leaning over Burke’s shoulder.
“Spaghetti.”
“Lila, you want a beer?” Kurt raised his bottle in her direction.
“Blech. You know I don’t drink beer,” she said. “You’ve been serving me drinks for years. You know what I want.”
“If that’s an unsubtle hint, forget it. I’m not making you a cocktail.”
“Because you’re a terrible host? Or because you don’t like to bring work home with you?”
Kurt smiled at Lila. “I’m not your host. Burke is.”
“Is he any good at cooking?”
“I’m good,” Burke rumbled.
“He’s a better baker,” Kurt said. “You should taste his cupcakes.”
“Aha!” Lila reached over and shoved Burke’s shoulder. “I knew it.”
“Fine, I bake,” Burke said. “On special occasions
only. If I bake them, I eat them all. Megan won’t sell me more than four at a time. Kurt, I’ll take a beer.”
“You know where they are, buddy. Help yourself.”
“You want any of this spaghetti? Get me a beer.”
“Bossy,” Kurt muttered, and went to the fridge.
Kurt handed Burke the beer and poured a glass of water for Lila. “Sorry, no bubbles,” he said and laughed at her glare. “Come get me when it’s ready.”
“How about you come running when I bang your food bowl?” Lila called after him.
“That’ll work,” Kurt shouted from the hall.
Lila sat in silence for a while, seeming content to watch Burke cook. It was…nice. Domestic. Unexpectedly peaceful.
Relaxed.
Lila set the table following his directions to the cutlery draw and the cupboard with plates, and it wasn’t until they were all eating, that Burke realized she’d never told him why she was here.
He also realized that he didn’t care. The way he figured, he’d done something good, and the universe was rewarding him.
Then Kurt opened his big mouth, and Burke revised his opinion.
The universe was punishing him.
“So,” his best friend said innocently. “How long have you two been dating?”
Burke choked on his food.
Lila patted him on the back and nudged her glass of water toward him. “We’re not dating,” she told Kurt.
“This isn’t a date?” Kurt pointed his fork between them. “Are you sure? It looks like a date.”
“If it was a date, jackass, would you be here?”
Kurt spread his hands and lifted them, palms up. “I wasn’t invited. I just live here and don’t like cooking my own dinner.”
“I wasn’t invited either,” Lila said. “I invited myself. Oh.” She turned to Burke. “I forgot to tell you why I’m here.” She looked at her watch, eyes widening. “How can it be eight thirty? How long have I been here?”
Burke opened his mouth to reply, when her eyes bulged and her hands flew to her now-dry hair, patting it down anxiously.
It sprang back up as soon as she stopped compressing it. “My hair!”
“What about it?” Burke said, puzzled.
She glanced at Kurt.
“Yeah,” Kurt said. “It’s insane. Is it not on purpose? I assumed it was you getting snippy, like a cat puffing up.”
“No.” Lila slumped and gestured at her head. “It’s never on purpose.”
“I like it,” Burke said.
Lila rolled her eyes. “You sweet liar. It’s…”
“Insane,” Kurt supplied when she trailed off.
“Yes, Kurt, thank you. It’s insane.”
Burke leaned back in his chair and studied her. Her dark blonde hair had dried in a fluff of snarly frizz around her small face. What was not to like? He wanted to put his hands in it.
“It’s usually straight,” Burke said. “Is this what happens when it gets wet?”
“This is what happens when it gets wet and I don’t use a hair dryer, mousse, a flat iron and hairspray on it.”
“You iron your hair?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when I was in high school, kids used to sneak up behind me and put twigs and leaves and bugs in it and I wouldn’t even know until I went to the bathroom or got home or Jenny told me, and it was hilarious!”
Burke and Kurt both stared at Lila.
She looked away and stabbed her spaghetti. “Hilarious.”
Kurt frowned. Burke ran a hand over her hair, twisted the length of it around his fist and watched the frizzy ends twine around his fingers. “It’s pretty,” he said, and returned his focus to his plate.
Kurt pushed to his feet. “I gotta go to work. I’ll leave you two to your date—”
“It’s not a date!” they both said.
Kurt shook his head, rinsed his plate before sticking it in the dishwasher, and sauntered out. “I won’t be back until two a.m. In case it’s relevant.”
“It’s not relevant. Why are you telling us? It isn’t relevant. Shut up, Kurt,” Lila yelled after him.
“I’ll shut up if you stop avoiding my bar. Are you going to stop avoiding my bar?” he called back.
“Yes! If you go away now!”
Kurt’s answer was the front door closing.
Lila fussed with her hair, avoiding Burke’s gaze, then clasped her hands in her lap, and turned to him. “Spaghetti was great.”
“More?”
“I am stuffed.”
His chair scraped as Burke stood and took her plate. Lila skipped over to the sink and started running the water. She rinsed the plates and handed them to him to put in the dishwasher. He looked up to find her snapping on a pair of rubber gloves and filling a pan with soapy water.
“No.” Burke turned the faucet off.
“Yes.” She turned it on and bumped him aside with her hip.
Standing behind her, Burke placed a hand on either side of the counter. “No,” he said, bending to put his mouth level with her ear.
Between his arms, Lila was very still. “The person who cooks doesn’t clean up.” Her voice was light.
“Today, he does.”
“But—”
“Don’t fight me, Lila.”
Slowly, she stripped off the gloves.
For god’s sake, she was removing a pair of bright yellow rubber gloves dripping with bubbles, not performing a burlesque striptease for him. Burke swallowed.
Without warning Lila stepped back. Closing his eyes, Burke absorbed the sensation of her firm body against his for a brief second, her back pressed to his front, then he moved away before he scared the poor woman with his unmistakable, inappropriate, and goddamn painful boner.
“I’ve taken up enough of your evening,” Lila said, “and I cannot believe I still haven’t told you why I barged in on you in the first place.” She faced him with a bright smile. “Griffin Burke, I am here to see you get the happily ever after you deserve.”
Burke eyed her warily.
She threw her arms wide. “I’m your new realtor!”
He…hadn’t expected that.
Then again, he hadn’t expected any of this evening.
“You’re a realtor?” He was stalling for time.
Lila dropped her arms. “You didn’t know? I thought you might have asked around… Yes. I am a realtor. I work at Morrow Realty.”
Burke stuck his hands in his pockets. “Uh-huh. I know it. Shame, though. I definitely can’t afford you.”
“You’re not going to go with Parker’s. You deserve the best. I’m the best. You get me.”
“I have no doubt you’re the best, but I still can’t afford you, Lila.”
Couldn’t afford to have her in his life any more than she already was.
He was supposed to be protecting himself from falling all the way in love with a woman he couldn’t have, damn it.
Good job on that. She was in his—well, Kurt’s—kitchen, he’d fed her, she was wearing his clothes, and, unless he could squirm out of hiring her, she was about to be all up in his personal business.
Burke’s blood fired at the thought.
“Of course you can afford me,” Lila said.
He gave it one last shot. “Nope, pretty sure I can’t.”
Lila shifted from one foot to the other. “Don’t you want me?” she asked. “It’s fine if you don’t.”
Not want her? If only. “I do,” he heard himself saying. “Yes. This is great.”
She clapped her hands together once, and grinned. “And I won’t be charging you full price, either.”
Burke stiffened.
“I will make your nose bleed with how much I charge,” Lila corrected smoothly. “Let’s get started!” She whisked past him and headed for the living room.
“Right now?”
“Super-quick chat so I can get things rolling first thing tomorrow. Unless you’re happy in Kurt’
s guest room with all your boxes?” Lila settled on the couch.
Burke rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, watching her curl her legs to the side and plum up the pillow behind her. “No, I need somewhere as soon as possible.”
“See? This is the basic information I need to start a search. It can take a while to buy a place. Wait. Are we buying or renting?”
“Buying. How long can it take?”
“If your finances are in order and you’ve got a pre-approved loan, it can take as little as a month. Have you got that sorted yet?”
He shook his head.
“We’ll talk. I know a guy. Best case scenario, I can have you moved into your dream home in a month. Worst case?” She sucked her teeth. “I’ve had clients trying to buy for eighteen months.”
“I do not want to be living in Kurt’s guest room for eighteen months.” Burke thought twice about snuggling up next to her on the couch, and sat in the club chair instead.
Lila’s eyelids flickered but she didn’t call him on it.
He still felt like a dick.
Her bright smile dimmed and she shifted to a more formal position, with her feet set on the floor, one of his socks up and one crumpled down, her legs demurely crossed at the ankles.
Burke leaned his forearms on his thighs, angling toward her.
“You won’t be,” she said. “I’ve got great contacts and resources, and I know the area inside out and upside down. Give me the rest of the basic info.”
He quirked a brow. “Such as?”
“What do you want?”
“I hadn’t really thought.”
“You moved out of your old place without thinking about where to go next?”
He waved vaguely at the walls around them.
“Fair enough. I’m always happy to take the lead. How many bedrooms are you thinking? One? Two?”
“Three. Master bedroom, bedroom for David, and a guest room.”
Lila cocked her head. “Who’s David?”
Hadn’t he mentioned…? “My son.”
Lila looked around quickly, as if she expected David to pop out from behind the couch or the television, then she pointed at the ceiling in a full-body question.
“He’s out of town right now,” Burke said. “In Seattle. With his mother.”
She took in an audible breath, and jumped up. “Okay. Think that’s enough for me to get started.”
Burke frowned, getting to his feet. She sidled past him in an all-fired rush for the hall. “I only told you the number of bedrooms.”