“Would you like to come in? I must admit, I’m starting a get cold.”
Just as he said that my eyes wander to his erect nipples through his t-shirt. Of course they would. Why wouldn’t they wander there?! Jeez, I need a cold shower. It’s minus freezing my arse off, but I can’t help the feeling that I need to pull on my collar as I’m getting overheated just by staring at him.
Easton smirks, but steps aside to let me pass and when he does, the most fabulous smell hits my nostrils. “Wow, what is that?” I ask, almost pushing my way past him into his house.
I hear him chuckle as I walk through and it’s only when I hear the door shut and Easton in front of me asking for my coat that I realise I’m all alone with him.
In his house.
As my mind takes all this in, my eyes wander around the lightly lit hallway of Easton’s new home. For a man, he’s made it look awfully homey. Two mirrors and a painting of lily of the valley adorn the sunshine walls of the hallway. A coat hanger sits beside the door with a red umbrella at the foot of it. As I take off my coat, I notice an open door to what looks to be the living room, but it’s from there where the beautiful smell seems to be coming from.
“I’m cooking chicken parmigiana, and I have enough for two.”
As I hand him my coat, he quirks an eyebrow as he places it on the hanger. I’m only just getting over the shock that it’s Easton—never mind the fact he’s just asked me to stay for dinner.
There is no doubt in my mind that I should say no. Setting my better judgment aside, however, I must admit that the way in which he asked me wasn’t that of a man trying to get into the pants of a would-be lover. So, if he can keep it cool, then so can I. Besides, the food smells too good to miss.
“I would love try some.”
“Good.” He fixes me with a big grin before gesturing with his hand for me to walk through. “After you.”
One foot manages to move in front of the other as I pass through the door leading into the most massive kitchen come dining come living area. No one would have realised that beyond the cosy hallway would be this Tardis of a room.
“Wow,” I say, taking in the modern decor. White and black seem to be the theme of the kitchen with a beautiful sparking granite worktop. I can see something’s boiling on the hob and underneath that I can only guess is the parmigiana cooking in the oven. It makes my mouth water.
“I almost forgot. Your book,” Easton says, quickly springing into action and fetching a book from the coffee table. He gives it to me, I say my thanks, and I place it in my bag.
My eyes wander from the kitchen to the living area. Mainly white walls are the theme in here, but I can see that Easton has been making his mark on the place. One wall features a beautiful fireplace dressed in a warm terracotta colour. Figurines reminiscent of the ancient Egyptians line the top of the fireplace, but the thing which really pops out is the breathtaking sketch which is hanging above the mantle. It’s a large sketch of what is clearly Edinburgh Castle.
“You decided to go bigger then?” I ask, pointing to the intricate sketch. It’s obvious to me that Easton’s not a fan of painting—just sketching. The fact that it’s a sketch doesn’t make it any less beautiful, though. I’d even go so far as to say that it couldn’t look any better had it been painted. The way it is now has its own unique and striking beauty. One can see every darkened line etched into the hillside, every straight line which leads to the top where the castle is situated, and every hollow window of the castle. It makes me wish that I could be there in person to see inside of it. Easton most definitely has talent.
Easton looks at the sketch, and for the first time, I see a hint of embarrassment briefly cross his face. “I just thought it would be nice to have something up there to remind me of home.”
“It’s fantastic.”
“You think?”
I chuckle slightly at Easton’s vulnerability. He has always struck me as a confident man, but beneath his strong shield is someone who is just as vulnerable as the rest of us. Clearly, he is frightened that no one will like his work. He needn’t be. Each of the two sketches I’ve seen so far have been stunning to look at.
“You have a talent. You should explore it more often.”
Placing his hands into his jeans pockets, he shrugs. “I guess I have a lot of ladies keeping me busy lately, so I don’t get to sketch as often as I would like. I was crazy busy when I first started, but I’m hoping things are beginning to settle.”
It’s then I remember that he’s not where he said he lived. “You moved.”
He bites his lip a little and for a fraction of a second I wonder what his teeth would feel like grazing over my nipple. A shudder ripples through me at the thought. My concentration levels are shit next to this man.
“I wanted to be a bit closer to the school, so I wouldn’t have to get up so early in the morning.”
I chuckle slightly, realising why he was biting his lip. “You’re not a morning person, I take it?”
Moving towards the kitchen to tend to dinner, he laughs at my comment. “No. I’ve never been a morning person.” He picks a knife up and starts poking at some potatoes. “When I was in school, I was the only person my mum found difficult to rouse in the morning.”
A brief thought wanders through my mind about whether something different may rouse him in the morning. My tongue perhaps?
Clearing my head of all erotic thoughts, I concentrate on the conversation. “I bet you used to drive your mum nuts.” We both chuckle at the comment.
“Yeah, just a little.” He then points to the fridge. “I have beer, but do you fancy some wine? You can have beer if you want, but something tells me you aren’t a beer kind of girl.”
I quirk my eyebrow. “Really? What kind of girl do I strike you as?”
He sucks in a breath as he turns his head away in thought. When he’s figured out what to say, he fixes me with those whiskey brown eyes of his. “Someone a bit more refined. You seem to like a lady to me.”
“And ladies don’t drink beer?” I tease.
“I’m not doing very well here, am I?”
I start laughing. “I know what you’re trying to say, but maybe I wouldn’t go saying that to other ladies. They may not appreciate your talk.”
“My talk, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “You know.”
He starts laughing before moving towards the fridge. “Anyway, as I was saying. Drink?”
I nod my head on a smile. “Yes, please. Wine would be lovely.”
He hits me with a knowing smile, but doesn’t say anything further on the matter. I watch as he takes out an expensive looking bottle of white wine from the fridge and starts pouring it into a glass. Once all done, he picks his beer up and my glass, handing it to me.
“Cheers,” he says, holding out his beer.
We clink glasses. “Cheers.”
“I’m intrigued,” he begins. “What book did you bring me in the end?”
Remembering why I’m there in the first place, I pick my bag up and start rummaging through. I find the book and hand it to him.
“Life Expectancy,” he says out loud.
“It’s the next best book to Watchers.”
He looks up from the book. “Why didn’t you bring me that?”
I bite my lip. “I guess I couldn’t part with it. Besides, now I know it’s you, and you’ve already read it.”
I watch as he turns the book over and reads the back of it. “It looks good.”
“It is good.”
Placing it down on the counter, he says, “I’ll look forward to reading it then.” He then gestures towards the living room. “Make yourself comfortable. I just need to check on the chicken. The potatoes are almost ready.”
My mouth starts to salivate at the thought. “I’m so looking forward to this.”
He smirks. “Wait until you’ve tried it first.”
He then makes his way to the kitchen and starts his prep on getting everything ready, al
lowing me time to pick my glass of wine up again and wander through into the living area. I walk around the cosy cream sofas that all point towards this massive TV. It must be at least fifty inches. I sip my wine as my eyes wander around the decor, taking everything in. The crisp cool drink slides down my throat making me look at the glass with appreciation. The wine tastes lovely.
In the corner of the living area is a bookshelf with copious amounts of James Patterson, David Baldacci, John Grisham, Dan Brown, and Clive Cussler. Easton certainly likes his thrillers.
“I see you’re admiring my books.” I jump, squealing and almost spill my wine everywhere. “Sorry, did I scare you?”
“Yes,” I say laughing. “Don’t ever sneak up on people like that. You scared the bejusus out of me.”
He places his hand on his heart. “I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”
How can I say no to that face?
“Of course. Just don’t do it again,” I smirk, letting him know I’m teasing.
“Dinner’s up in five. You can take a seat at the table now, if you want.”
Easton quickly darts back into the kitchen and I walk towards the dining table situated behind his sofa. I take my seat and watch in silence as Easton works the kitchen like a pro. I don’t speak, because I know I may hinder him as he works. Besides, high concentration on the task is etched into the beautiful face of his. I certainly don’t want to disturb that.
Within no time, Easton has the plates filled with food and is bringing them over to the table. As soon as he places mine in front of me, my mouth begins to water in expectation, and I can feel my taste buds preparing to explode from desire alone. The cheese over the chicken is just nicely browned. Beside that are a few potatoes and broccoli.
“This smells delicious. I can’t wait to tuck in.”
He smiles as he takes a napkin and places it on his lap. “Don’t stand on ceremony then. Tuck in there.”
I waste no time, picking my knife and fork up I start to collect a bit of everything before popping it into my mouth. As I do, my eyes close. I’ve had chicken parmigiana a couple of times, but none of them has been as mouth-watering as this.
I let the explosion of different spices along with the taste of chicken, cheese, potato, and broccoli mix together in my mouth.
“So, what do you think?”
Opening my eyes, I find Easton sat opposite me eagerly awaiting my response.
I finish chewing before saying, “It’s beautiful. You really are a good cook.”
“Thanks,” he replies, popping a bit of broccoli in his mouth. “I think that’s why my brother sometimes visits.”
“Because he misses your food?” He nods. “That’s quite sweet.”
Easton huffs out a laugh. “My brother is a lot of things, but sweet isn’t one of them.”
Thinking on this, I ask, “What was it like growing up with such a big family?”
All I’ve ever known is my mother and I. Big families are alien to me. I often wonder what it would have been like to have a younger brother or sister. I know my mum was planning on having more kids with my dad, but then tragedy struck.
Easton finishes chewing before saying, “It certainly has its ups and downs I must say. We lived in a big enough house, but I had to share with my twin, and that was fraught with tension.” I start laughing and he notices. “What’s so funny?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve always had this picture in my head that twins always got on, finished each other’s sentences, that sort of thing.”
He shakes his head. “Not my brother and I, no. We may look and sound the same, but that’s as far as it goes for him and I.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s a freelance fitness instructor. He goes wherever he’s needed and gets paid. He enjoys it because he’s never in one place at any particular time. He can accept or refuse the jobs he has, and he gets paid well because,” he rolls his eyes, “for some reason, he’s popular.”
I want to say that if he looks like him then no wonder, but I hold my tongue. “Is that the reason why he visits you a lot?”
He nods. “Yeah, that and he misses my food. He also says he likes the girls down here, but of course he would say that. I sometimes wonder if he’ll ever settle down.”
“Ah, he’s young,” I say, shrugging it off. “I’m assuming you’re both still in your twenties?”
“We’ll be twenty-eight in January.”
“That’s still young. Maybe once he’s in his thirties, he’ll settle down.”
He looks at me quizzically. “Is that when you plan to settle down?”
I look away in thought. “I never put much thought to that. I do want it all—the house, marriage, kids, etcetera, but I would never put a time on it. You can’t place a timescale on love. It’s either the right time or the wrong time to find someone. I think I would like to think that someday I will meet Mr Right and settle down. If that’s tomorrow, or in twenty years time, so be it.”
Easton nods his head with a smile. “That’s a good way of looking at it.”
“I know some say you should wait a few years, kiss a few frogs before you find your prince, but if I met my prince now, then why should I let the fact I’m so young get in the way? I think that’s why your brother is still free and single. He just hasn’t met the right girl yet. I think once he does, he’ll know.”
Easton chuckles. “I feel sorry for the girl that happens to.” He starts laughing, so I know he’s joking.
“I’m sure your brother would love you saying that about him.”
“Ah, he doesn’t care. He is what he is and isn’t ashamed of that. I kind of admire him for that.”
“It’s the right attitude to have. Sometimes you can get too wrapped up in what other people are thinking that you kind of lose yourself along the way.”
I think of Liam and everything I did for him to appease him. When I lived with him, I was constantly worrying about how my thoughts and actions would affect him. It wasn’t healthy, but at the time I didn’t realise this.
“You’ve gone to that dark place again.”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I set my gaze on Easton. “Is it that obvious?”
“Your whole face changes. Gone is the smile that lights up your face. You look … lost.”
I finish chewing a bit of food before saying, “Is this the part where you tell me some sort of joke so I can snap out of it?”
He frowns ever so slightly, a tiny crinkle forming on his forehead. “On the contrary. This is the part where I let you know that you can tell me anything. I won’t judge.”
I think about all the times I endured with Liam. All the times I felt safe with him when in fact I was far from it. I never like revisiting that place. I feel I can trust Easton. I’m just not sure I can say those words. To me, those words make me seem like a feeble, stupid, and naïve teenage girl.
“You’re hesitating. I really don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
I flit my eyes back to Easton. “It’s not that. You must know all about me anyway. It would have been in my file. It’s just that reliving it and saying the words out loud. It’s hard. Knowing how stupid I was back then is a difficult pill to swallow.”
Easton, placing his fork down, leans over the table a little. “How can you say that you were stupid? You were fifteen when it happened. A child.” I close my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m upsetting you and that’s the last thing I want. Forget I said anything.”
I watch as he tucks back into his food. I know my discomfort has made him uncomfortable. I’m not used to saying the words out loud to my mother—let alone Easton. The man I have a huge crush on.
“I lost my innocence to that man—and I lost it to him willingly.” I watch as Easton stops chewing and looks up to me. I swallow hard before saying, “I don’t like all the doors to be shut when inside a room. It makes me claustrophobic. I have nightmares—sometimes bad enough that I wake up during them and I feel like I’m suffo
cating. Everywhere I go, I’m looking over my shoulder, because I know it’s never a question of if he will find me. It’s a question of when.”
Easton, seemingly lost for words for a moment, picks his fork up and before he starts eating again, says with determination, “As long as I’m around, I will never let that happen. Do you believe me?”
I see the conviction on his face and it makes me smile. “Yes. I believe every word of it.” I know he will never be able to protect me from that monster, but I do find comfort in his words. Despite the fact that he is my headmaster, I know I have his back. He’s becoming the friend I never really had. Well, apart from Brett, of course, but he’s like my dorky older brother. Easton—on the other hand—is a completely different kettle of fish. I certainly don’t lust after Brett the way I do Easton.
“Good,” he says, then points to my food. “Eat. It’s getting cold.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply, picking my knife and fork up. It earns me a drop dead gorgeous smirk from Easton and suddenly my insides turn to mush. Eating is now the last thing on my mind.
We eat for the next few minutes in silence, and when the plates are clear, Easton gets up to put them away.
“Here, let me wash them,” I say, getting up with him.
He shakes his head. “No. Sit. I’ll get some more wine and we can talk. I’ll leave the dishes for later.”
A small flurry of excitement fills my belly at the prospect of staying here a little longer. I check my watch and see that it’s almost eight already. Where has the time gone?
It’s then I remember that my mum asked me to text her, so I quickly grab my phone and shoot her a message.
I’m with Easton having a couple of drinks. Have fun on your date xx
Straight after I get a call from Brett. Shit. I had forgotten all about going to the bar tonight. I get up and quickly walk out into the hallway and shut the door behind me. When I answer, I hear him say, “Girl, you better have a good excuse for not turning up tonight. Even you can never turn up a night of one of my Sex on the Beach cocktails.”
I start chuckling before saying, “I’m so sorry, Brett. Something came up. I bumped into Easton and we’ve just had something to eat.”
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