I tried to be extra friendly to the poor man checking me out; he looked like he’d rather be watching football. I couldn’t blame him, even though I never understood the NFL’s reasoning for playing on Thanksgiving. The players had families too.
I called my dad on the way to Zander’s. He and the boys had been invited to Savannah’s parents’ for the dinner. My dad didn’t sound all that thrilled about it, but he was going anyway. The only thing he asked about my plans was to make sure I had someone to spend it with. He knew Aunt Beth was off traveling, visiting Fredrick’s children from his first marriage. She was living the life and loving it. I would get to spend some time with her around Christmas. I hoped I didn’t lie to my dad about having someone to spend it with.
When I pulled into Zander’s parking lot, I wasn’t sure what I should do. Should I text or just head on up and knock on his door? I decided to head up. I grabbed the canvas grocery bags, but left the pie. I had purchased a chocolate ganache cake instead at the store. I figured if I was going to spend the day with Zander, I would make it my perfect kind of day.
I was glad I didn’t meet anyone going in or on the elevator. My heart pounded as I watched each floor number light up until I got to level three. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the elevator. I felt like I could see my reflection everywhere in the gleaming building. I followed the directory and found myself standing in front of the door marked 320. I took some more deep breaths. What was I doing?
I pulled out my phone. Please don’t be upset, but I’m standing in front of your door. No response, and I didn’t hear movement inside. I waited a minute feeling about as dumb as I ever had. I look really silly standing out here holding several grocery bags in my hand. Still nothing. I gave up. I’m leaving the food outside your door. Except for the cake—you don’t deserve it.
I dug the cake out of one of the canvas bags and headed back down the hall. This unsettling ache erupted in my chest.
“Meg,” a voice croaked.
I stopped and thought about whether I should turn around or not. I placed my hand on my stomach. Flutters had erupted.
“Are you going to make me drag you back?”
I smiled to myself before turning around.
He was leaning against his door, disheveled in a white t-shirt and striped pajama pants. His unshaven face said he didn’t feel well, but dang if the stubble didn’t make him look even more attractive.
We both stared at one another.
“Do you want to come in?”
“Do you want me to?”
He paused. “I’m not sure.”
“I can go.”
“Don’t.”
I stepped closer, about five feet away from him. “I could stay?”
He cracked a small smile and focused on the box in my hand. “Only if the cake comes with you.”
I rolled my eyes.
He laughed, which made him cough terribly. He bent down to get the bags.
“I got those. You should rest.” I went to pick them up, but Leann walked out of a door across the hall. I didn’t realize they were neighbors.
The look on her face was priceless. It was as if reality smacked her in the face.
So I did what any fake girlfriend would do. “Honey, you are so thoughtful.”
Zander was already holding the bags in one hand. His tired eyes showed a hint of sparkle at the turn of events. He gave Leann a cold glance before grabbing my shirt and pulling me into his apartment. “Don’t mind us.” He shut the door.
“Were you afraid I was going to further ruin your reputation?”
“She looked like she wanted to throw a punch.”
“I would have liked to see her try.”
He smiled for a second, but he ran his fingers through his hair. “This is new for me. I’m not sure what to do.”
I looked around, and wow was all I could think of. It looked like the inside of his car, shiny and new. It was open with a sunken living space front and center, the restaurant-worthy kitchen off to the right. His leather furniture was neatly arranged, and I would be hard pressed to find a speck of dust. He had a huge flat-panel TV that hung above a built-in tiled fireplace. The football game was on. “This is nice. You’ve probably hated hanging out at my place.”
“Not at all.”
“You look terrible. Hand over the bags and rest.”
He made to argue.
“I know you don’t expect me to take care of you.”
He smiled and reluctantly handed over the bags.
I slipped off my shoes, not wanting to leave a mark on the unnaturally shined tile floors. “Can I get you anything?”
He shook his head and walked away. I watched him ease onto his couch. His cough sounded terrible.
I took the bags and cake and headed for the kitchen. It was nice—it was so open that I could still see Zander and the game. I was hesitant to set the bags on the spotless granite countertops. “Do you actually live here?”
He was already looking at me, but his expression became puzzled.
“I didn’t even know this kind of clean was possible.”
“I like things in order.”
“That’s an understatement. Are you okay with me cooking in here?”
“I let you in.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
He sighed. “Make yourself at home.”
I smiled. “I will.”
He focused back on the game.
“By the way, you can blame Mrs. Marshall for the intrusion. She uninvited me to Thanksgiving and made me come over here.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“But she did send me with her fool-proof, flu-killing spicy chicken noodle soup recipe.”
“Sounds good.”
I familiarized myself with his kitchen and appliances before I began. His kitchen was well stocked and it had everything I needed, from knives and cutting boards to pots and pans. I began slicing, dicing, and sautéing. A delicious aroma filled the air. It wasn’t a normal Thanksgiving meal, but my mom used to say that Thanksgiving was more than the food, it was who we sat at the table with.
Zander kept glancing my way.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No. That’s the problem.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” His gaze turned toward the TV.
“If it would make you feel better, I could leave smudges on your stainless-steel fridge or dirty dishes in the sink to make you feel uncomfortable.”
His chuckle turned into a cough.
I dug through one of the bags and pulled out some cold and flu medicine. I also got him a glass of orange juice. I brought him both.
He eyed the medicine warily. “I don’t take medicine.”
“I figured, but humor me.”
He opened his hand and I dropped the tablets in them before handing him his juice.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.” I turned back toward the kitchen.
He grabbed my hand—my actual hand—and held it. “Thank you, Meg.”
His words and touch felt better than they should. “That was hard for you to say, wasn’t it?”
“I think you’re starting to know me too well.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let the secret out that you’re a decent human being.”
He squeezed my hand before letting go. “I appreciate that.”
“Finish drinking that. I’m going to go finish dinner.” And wash my hands so hopefully I didn’t catch the nasty illness.
It was one of those soups that took some time, but I finally got everything in the pot and simmering. I decided to join Zander in the living room. I took one of the chairs near the couch where he sat.
“After invading my home, now you won’t sit by me?”
“I didn’t want to make you too uncomfortable.”
“We’re way past that, darlin’.” He patted the space next to him.
I was asking to get sick in more ways
than one, but I didn’t hesitate and joined him on the couch, close, but not too close. I tucked my legs under me and made him my sole focus. I reached up and ran my hands through his untidy hair. “You must be sick. I’ve never seen you with a hair out of place. And you feel warm.”
“You should kiss my forehead and see.”
“Nice try. These lips aren’t touching you.” Though they really wanted to.
“We’ll see.”
“Now you’re sounding like yourself again.”
“I feel like hell.”
“You look like it too.”
“I would laugh, but it hurts.”
“Maybe I should take you to urgent care.”
“I think you should quit worrying.”
I fake laughed with my hand over my heart. “You thought I was worried about you?”
He leaned in. “You can’t help yourself.”
I pushed him back. “I’m going to go check on dinner.” And I needed some distance before I gave in to temptation. It wasn’t fair that he was so irresistible even when ill.
The soup recipe was fantastic. It wasn’t turkey and mashed potatoes, but it was yummy.
I set out a spread of soup and warmed French bread on Zander’s coffee table. For an added touch, I used some of his wine glasses for the orange juice. It was cozy.
I sat next to him when it was all ready to go. “I know it’s not much, but Happy Thanksgiving.”
“It’s more than I expected today. Happy Thanksgiving, darlin’.”
I didn’t think Zander was the praying type, so I didn’t bother to ask if he wanted to say grace. He went straight to eating. I watched him take his first spoonful. He didn’t have to say a word. I knew he liked it. He ate several spoonfuls in a row. I joined him. It was fantastic, if I do say so myself.
After we finished eating. I made myself at home and grabbed the remote. I wasn’t interested in the teams playing, so I turned it to the Hallmark Channel. They were having a marathon of Christmas romance movies.
“This is why I don’t invite women into my apartment. What the hell is this?”
“The best thing on TV today, or we could watch more of On the Edge.”
“No.”
I laughed and kept the remote away from him.
“You’re going to make my head pound more watching this contrived nonsense. They all end the same.”
“That’s what I love about them.” I gave him my best smile. “Do you really have a headache?”
“For three days.”
He had a couple of throw pillows on his designer couch, so I scooted to the other end, grabbed one, and laid it in my lap. “Lay your head in my lap.” I patted the pillow.
“Now we’re talking. You can watch whatever you want.”
“Don’t get excited, I’m only going to rub your head.”
His head was in my lap in a second. He gazed up at me. “Be gentle.”
I rolled my eyes. “Behave.”
“I make no promises.” He closed his eyes.
I started at the crown of his head. He was like putty in my hands. I felt him relax in an instant. I loved the feel of my hands through his hair and how close he was. I needed to think about something else while my fingers explored every inch of his head. Hallmark wasn’t a good enough distraction. “Tell me why you don’t want women in your apartment.”
He tensed up.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“Yes.” He kept his eyes and mouth shut at least for a few minutes.
I kept rubbing his head and doing my best to watch the screen.
“You don’t know how good this feels.”
“I hope it’s making your headache go away.”
“I think you better keep rubbing.”
“I’m rolling my eyes at you.”
He smiled, but it was short-lived. “Meg,” insert a long pause, “I like autonomy.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
He opened his gorgeous eyes and peered into my own. “You asked me once if I let Brooke come over. The answer is once. And then we broke up.”
“Did she put her feet on the table or something?”
“No. She sat where you’re sitting right now and when I looked at her, it hit me that she didn’t belong here. I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. I thought maybe I had been wrong about how I approached women. But in all our time together, she never left me ‘wanting for more’ as you call it. I realized I am who I am.”
My hand smoothed his warm forehead.
His eyes closed from the touch.
“And that’s who you want to be?”
“I don’t know if I have it in my nature to be anyone else. Let’s change the subject.” The emotional walls came back up. “Tell me why you and Lucas broke up.”
I stopped rubbing his head, causing his eyes to open. I ran my fingers through my own hair. I don’t know why I was nervous to tell him. I released a large breath. “He broke up with me because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”
“You didn’t love him?”
I shook my head. “I thought I did.”
“So, what was your problem?”
“I didn’t have a problem. I don’t have a problem.”
His eyes widened. “I hit a nerve.”
“Forget it. This is a game to you.”
He sat up, but stayed close. He rubbed his own neck. “Sometimes you confuse the hell out of me.”
“Me?”
He rubbed his neck harder. “You’re so open about every aspect of your life, except for when it comes to your own relationships. Yet you don’t have any issues telling me how I’m going about it all wrong.”
We came face to face and he dared me to contradict him.
“You want me to be open? Fine. I’ve never slept with anyone before.”
Astonishment washed over his features.
“I was going to. Lucas kept after me about how in love we were and it was the natural progression in our relationship. And for a moment I thought he was right. I told myself I was silly and I had waited a lot longer than most women. But the second I decided to give into him, he changed the way he looked at me. In his eyes, I saw that I was only a prize to be won by him. He didn’t really love me. And as soon as I told him I changed my mind, he broke up with me. I decided then and there that I would never be a man’s prize. I would only share myself with someone I truly loved and that someone was going to be committed to me in every regard. And if you think that’s a problem, so be it.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Don’t go.”
I ignored him. I was already up gathering the dinner dishes. I was cleaning up and heading home.
“I’m sorry.”
That gave me some pause. Apologizing didn’t seem to be his thing. But I kept on cleaning up.
He had other ideas. He stood and unceremoniously took the dishes out of my hand and set them down in a loud clatter. He wrapped me up in his arms. “Meg.”
At first I stood there stiff, but I was no match for him. He ran his hand down my back and my arms found themselves around him of their own accord. I fell against his chest, listening to the congestion in it as he breathed in and out.
“You remind me more of Kenz than you know.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know if she would want me to say.”
“Okay.”
He placed his chin on my head. “Why don’t you ever press me for more answers?”
“Do you want me to?”
“It seems unnatural that you don’t.”
“I guess I’m weird all around.”
He laughed. It sounded terrible in his chest. “You’re definitely different.”
“Thanks. I should probably go.”
“And there you go trying to run away again.”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
It took him a minute to answer. In the meantime, I soaked up being in his arms. I wanted to stay there for an indefinite amount
of time, but it wasn’t meant to be. He let go of me. “I’m not sure, but don’t leave.”
I looked up and met his confused eyes. “Tell me why I remind you of Kenadie.”
There was his smirk I had grown to adore.
We both sat back down on the couch. He put some distance between us. It was a good thing.
He turned off the TV and studied me.
“You can’t believe I’m a virgin.”
“I believe you, but it’s hard to believe.”
“You know it happens.”
“You don’t need to get defensive.”
I tucked some hair behind my ear. “Sorry. After Lucas, I’m sensitive about it. He came down hard on me. Called me a tease and a liar and some other names not worth mentioning.”
Zander tensed up and flexed his fingers. “You and Kenz know how to pick idiots.”
“What are you talking about? Jason’s great.”
“Jason is, but her ex-fiancé better hope Jason or I never run into him. He messed with Kenz’s head for a long time.”
“I know she was left at the altar.”
“That’s only part of it. She was like you and wanted to wait until she got married. I used to tease her about it. You can roll your eyes at me.”
I smiled.
“I didn’t know until she started dating Jason that she didn’t wait. Brian, the ex, played a lot of head games with her and pressured her into sleeping with him, and then he left her at the altar. It really messed with her.”
“That’s awful.”
“It took a lot for her to trust anyone again, mostly herself. She thought there was something wrong with her and she carried around guilt for too many years. She was worried when she started dating Jason what he might expect, so she confided in me and went to see a therapist. I wished she would have told me earlier.”
“You know you can be sweet sometimes.”
“Don’t tell anyone.” I think he meant that.
“Can I ask how Jason took it?”
“She didn’t even have to ask. He’s a better man than me. He promised her they would wait until they were married.”
Dating by Design Series - Box Set Page 42
