I totally didn’t deserve him.
He set two bowls of noodles down on the table, and halting at first before I knew where his fingers were leading, he laid his warm hand on my forehead.
“Your face is so cold,” he said, leaning into the contact. I relished the heat of his fingers on my skin. He’d been in the kitchen for hours and had probably even broken a sweat under the heat of the stove and oven. He was as warm as summer.
He dragged his fingers down my temple to my cheek and stopped to lean down. My breath died in my chest. It’d been weeks since we last kissed and his lips were so close, I wanted to launch off the chair and press mine to his.
“I’m heading out… Oh. Sorry,” Ana interrupted, and Yasahiro leaned away from me. My face burst into a blinding blush. I wished the heat would make the headache better, but the rush of blood only made the pain worse. “Sorry!” she called again. I didn’t turn around, but instead heard the door open, close, and then her keys in the latch.
Yasahiro sighed, the moment ruined. “Here. Eat. You only look like this when you’re hungry.”
I glanced down into the bowl and praised all the gods I could think of there was meat amongst the vegetables and noodles. I could use the protein.
After the fire, Yasahiro visited me during the weeks I was in the hospital, and then he spent the following weeks working double shifts at the restaurant to make up for relying on his staff while I was bedridden. Since then, I only saw him when I came here or when we went out on group dates, which was only twice per week if that. No days off to spend together. I was grateful he came to visit me every day in the hospital, but it hadn’t done much for our relationship.
“We’ll eat and have some coffee?” He sat down across from me, but I shook my head at him. “What? No coffee?”
“No.” I laughed. “I mean, yes, coffee. But… come sit next to me. Please?” I picked up my bowl and moved over a seat, and he smiled, his lip twitching before he coughed. He rose from his seat and came to sit next to me. Immediately the space around us shifted, heat radiating off of him. I wished I could attach myself to him like a leech and siphon off his warmth. That was an awful image when I thought about it.
I laid my temple on the edge of his shoulder bone, pressed the edge into my head, and he turned to kiss my forehead. Ah. That was nice.
“Yasa-kun, tell me more about your family.”
When I was in the hospital, Yasahiro would ask me to talk about my family, usually in an effort to keep me awake and lucid during all the rounds of painkillers I was on. I told him about my older brother, Hirata, and his family. I didn’t see them much (maybe once a year) but I did love him despite how persnickety he was. Hirata and his wife were both kind, and their kids were fun and polite. I told Yasahiro about my dad, what little I could remember about him. He died when I was five, dropped dead of a heart attack while out working in the fields. By the time someone found him, he had been dead for several hours. There was no coming back from that. That was also a time when life insurance came through for Mom. It was the only reason she was able to keep the house and farm, though she did sell off some land to make things easier.
“Both my mom and dad are alive and well, and they can’t wait to meet you.”
I leaned over my noodles and took in a huge mouthful. Remember to chew, Mei.
“But you knew that—”
“I didn’t know that you had said anything about me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
I kept my mouth shut, only opening it to eat. Why? Because we had just started dating, it was possible the yakuza were trying to kill me, and I was constantly comparing myself to his old girlfriend, the star of stage and screen, Amanda Cheung. It was a blessing we had no internet at the house because the lack of online time would stop me from staring at photos of the two of them together. I wished I could stop myself from searching, block Google Images completely, but I couldn’t. I felt the compulsive need to remind myself I’d never be as good or pretty or perfect or wealthy as she was.
“I talk about you all the time. How smart and resourceful you are. How you won me over with your smile.”
My face heated to blinding levels, and I cringed against my headache.
“I’m sure you’ll be their favorite in no time.” Yasahiro jerked his chin at my bowl. “Eat your lunch. I have leftovers for you to take home for dinner.”
I sighed, both grateful and ashamed. “Thank you. Um, I was wondering if… Hmmm. Never mind.” My hands shook as I lifted the chopsticks to my mouth.
“Did you eat this morning?” he asked, laying his hand between my shoulder blades. I shrugged off his touch, remembering how he could feel the scars on my back through my dress the night of the barn fire. Before everything went to hell.
Yasahiro, being the kind of man he was, didn’t remove his hand from my back, but instead dragged the pads of his fingers down the length of the biggest scar before squeezing me across the waist. My skin was so misshapen, he could feel it through a sweater. This was what I loved about him, though. He knew I wanted the love and attention, even when I was uncomfortable with it.
“I did. Mom made egg and rice. But we’re out of sugar, and I usually drink my coffee with at least sugar.”
He nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll send you home with some sugar too. And you should have coffee with cream and sugar before you leave. Isn’t your mom supposed to get the insurance check soon? I sent you a text asking, but you didn’t respond.”
He flashed his phone at me, and I groaned. How was I going to cover this up? I took out my phone and scrolled through my texts. “I didn’t get it.” I showed my screen to him and his eyes narrowed on the antenna display. I tried to turn off my phone, but it was too late. Stupid move. I was so stupid when my blood sugar was low. It was like I didn’t have a brain and my emotions were turned up three hundred percent.
“Why don’t you have service?”
Hmmm, if I lied, he would catch me, I knew it. I braced myself. “Mom canceled the mobile phone and internet at home, so I’m only able to receive your texts if I’m on WiFi.”
“What?” He grunted in frustration.
My face fell because he sounded angry and annoyed. “I’m sorry. Honestly, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He had no idea how bad our situation was. We had barely any heat, the fridge was almost empty, and all my clothes were falling off of me because I was losing weight like crazy. Living on 1000 calories a day or less was beginning to take its toll, especially since I was so active walking everywhere.
He quickly took my hand and squeezed. “I know. I know your budget is low. Looking at you now, your eyes look so round and big because your face has slimmed out so much. I hate seeing you like this. The hospital and all those painkillers were no good for you.”
“I know.” I swallowed hard, guilt coating my feet like mud, pulling me to the ground and slowing me down. I wanted to tell him about the severe lack of food at home, but I couldn’t for Mom’s sake.
“Well, at least let me send you home with some food I set aside. Your mom said she would be paid this week, so I doubt you need much.” I wanted to protest that Mom told me it’d be three weeks at least before she got paid, but I clenched my lips shut. She had lied to him! “And I’ll give you a prepaid SIM card too.”
A wave of sickness crested in my throat, what little in my stomach threatening to come back up. “No, no. You don’t—”
“Stop, Mei-chan. How will I be able to reach you if your phone isn’t working? How will I know you’re safe and okay? I’m doing this for my own selfish reasons, and you can use the phone for whatever you want. Every time the card runs out of money, you let me know and I’ll get you a new one.”
I hung my head and let my tears fall onto my baggy jeans.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is. I’m such a charity case.”
“No,” he said, standing up and grabbing both of our bowls.
“I’m taking care of you because I can. And I know if the situation were reversed, you would do the same. If I had been in the hospital for weeks, you would have been there. If I didn’t have food, you would have brought me some. This town owes you and your mom a debt after what you went through. Are still going through.” He stopped and tapped my foot with his so that I would look up at him. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I was tempted to ask for money, enough to pay for some heat at home, but I shook my head.
“Come into the kitchen with me.”
I followed him into the warm, deserted kitchen where stewed dishes bubbled away, rice cooked in the rice cooker, and bowls of bread dough rose next to a warm oven. The air smelled heavenly, and I sucked in a steady, long breath through my nose, relishing every scent. Two months ago, you couldn’t pay me to eat traditional Japanese food. I hated it. But I’d learned to love it through Yasahiro’s cooking, and when I was starving, literally anything would taste good. I was pretty sure I could eat cardboard most days and it would taste like chocolate.
“Here are more leftovers you can take.” Yasahiro opened up one of the fridges. Inside, plastic bowls were stacked up with my name on them. “These here are extra tempura I made last night and leftover rice too. Then this is stewed beef and carrots, raw vegetables, some pickles, and an okonomiyaki with squid.” My mouth watered as he pointed to each container. “And then on top is a green tea egg custard I made just for you and your mom. There should be enough here for tonight and tomorrow.” He closed the fridge and pointed to a cloth bag next to the bowls of rising dough. “Take them home with this bag.”
“Thank you,” I said, reflexively bowing. “That’s a lot of food. I promise it won’t go to waste.”
“I’m sure it won’t.” He squeezed my arm as he slid past me. At the coffee machine, which was a monstrous piece of Italian stainless steel tubes and dials, he made us both Americanos, loading mine with a generous helping of sugar and cream before handing the cup to me. While I sipped on my coffee, he scooped sugar into a container, placed it in the bag, stirred the stewed vegetables, punched down the dough, and hummed into his coffee cup as he made out lists. His employees were all off for another two hours before they returned for the dinner rush, so, in the meantime, he wrote out their tasks for the night, the menu, and a list of any remaining ingredients that needed to be picked up.
I wished I had a job like this, something that was a secure part of my life, something I was made to do like Yasahiro was made for being a chef and a business owner. I needed to find my calling. I was going to find my calling if it was the last thing I did. I just had to figure out what that was.
“Can I stay and read until the staff comes back? I don’t want to go home yet.”
“Sure,” he said, setting his coffee cup in the sink. “I have an idea. How about we go out tonight? Just you and me. No one else. We haven’t been out together alone in a while.”
“Seven weeks,” I said, and he stared blankly at me. “Not that I’m counting or anything.”
“We haven’t been out alone in seven weeks?”
“Nope.” I shook my head slowly. “Haven’t kissed in even longer.”
I gasped and turned away from him, hardly able to believe I said that out loud. It was true, though. The last and only time we’d ever kissed was his reward for winning “the slow food haute cuisine challenge.”
“I wasn’t sure if you were ready for that yet.” His voice lowered, a sexy tone to it curling my toes. I turned back to him and a sly smile, cocked to the side, graced his face. “When the kissing starts, I don’t want to stop.” He set down his pen and walked slowly to me. Hooking his finger into my belt loop, he tugged me closer to him and my heart raced. “And I usually have no decorum when it comes to public displays of affection either. Blame Paris if you want, but once the physical intimacy starts, I want to hold you…” He placed his hand on my waist, the tips of his fingers inching up against my sweater and seeking out my skin. “Touch you, kiss you even if the world is swarming around us.”
“What if…” I could barely breathe, thoughts of everyone knowing about our relationship because they witness it with their own eyes seized my lungs. “What if I’m okay with that?” I smiled, a broad, lovesick, silly grin that made my head spin.
I’d been denying his interest in me since the very beginning because we’d kept everything behind closed doors, except for his one public confession about dating me during Chiyo’s bathhouse opening. Even our group dates had been platonic, all our little touches happening under the table. With him showing affection in the open, there would be no denying our relationship. There’d be no cause for people to question us.
That sounded like a great idea.
He put both hands on my waist, lifted me up and set my butt on the stainless steel island in the kitchen. My blood began to heat, pumping through me so fast I was close to fainting. I was at his eye level, and he locked his gaze with mine, pushing open my legs so he could stand between them. With my headache long gone and blood pooling between my legs, I was so turned on it was a miracle I hadn’t jumped him. I took the initiative to run my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. He smiled as he leaned in and connected his lips to mine. I inhaled deeply through my nose, taking in enough air to sustain a deep kiss.
Waiting this long had made the weeks of slight separation mean even more. He cared about me as a whole person — not someone to sleep with and discard (not that I thought he was like that, but it’s what I always fear about men) or play with until he was bored. We pressed our lips together, pausing to hum or smile. His arms pulled me solidly to his chest, and I wrapped my legs around him, trying to abate the ache between my legs. It ached, like taking my insides and twisting them into a clump. His lips pulled away for a brief moment, and he groaned before connecting again with mine, his hands directing my head to the side. If he tried any harder, he would pull my soul up straight from my feet.
This time, I didn’t end the kiss like I did the first time. He disengaged from me, smiling when I opened my eyes.
“There. Now we’re really a couple. Not kissing to reward for a challenge. It’s the real thing.”
“Like foreplay,” I said, bravely, because oh my god, I’d never said anything like that before.
“You better believe it.”
I never did get to read before heading home. Kissing until my lips were numb seemed like a better option.
Chapter Four
I took the evening to go home and calm myself down, eat dinner with Mom, put her in bed with Mimoji-chan, our fluffy cat, and send her off to peaceful sleep with some hot water bottles. She was in bed and out by 20:30, and I wouldn’t be home until midnight. I actually couldn’t believe I was going out two nights in a row! This was unheard of. Even in my solvent days before I got fired, I would only sometimes go out both Friday and Saturday nights. I had been more of a homebody back then. Mom would be up again in the middle of the night to work at Midori Sankaku, but she’d get a solid six hours of sleep, which was all she needed at her age. At least, that’s what she had told me.
Standing outside at 22:00, I tipped my head up at the night sky and the wash of winter stars. The air was frigid, below zero tonight, but I didn’t have to wait long because Yasahiro’s car was coming from town. It wasn’t as if we had a lot of traffic way out here in the farmlands, so I was able to see his progress along the road before he turned into our long driveway. His lights flickered as he drove through the grove of pine trees and pulled up in the circular gravel drive.
I jumped in the car and sighed as the warmth of the interior enveloped me.
“Ahhh, I’m so glad you were right on time.” I smiled over at Yasahiro, turning down the music on the radio.
“Why didn’t you wait inside?”
“I didn’t want to disturb Mom and Mimoji-chan. They’ve been asleep for a while now, and I’ve been reading at the kotatsu.”
He pulled off his gloves and cr
ooked a finger at me, so I leaned over.
“Can I kiss you again?” His breath rushed over my face, and he waited for my response. I answered by kissing him. I should’ve asked for permission the way he did, but I didn’t think he’d deny me. His face and lips were warm, and mine were cold since I had been sitting in a house that was barely ten degrees for the past two hours.
“Mmmm,” he said, pulling away and stroking my cheek with his fingers. “I was wondering if I imagined this afternoon and the hour of kissing, but it appears to have been the real thing.”
He had no idea how much I cherished these sorts of statements. I saved them, filed them away for later when I didn’t believe this was happening — that I was finally dating again. Not only that, but I was dating the hot, successful bachelor who was Chikata’s most wanted boyfriend. It was hard to believe that I, of all people, was this lucky.
He shifted the car into gear and headed out the driveway. I glanced over at Akiko’s house across the street, and her place was lit up and happy, with twinkling Christmas lights along the front porch, the windows warm with light, and smoke curling from the chimney. My house, in comparison, looked vacant — not a light on anywhere, no smoke, and as I was painfully aware of, stone cold inside.
Just thinking about the difference between our two houses made me bitter and angry. Why didn’t she offer to help us out? Why did I have to go to her and beg for her help?
I diverted my mind from these thoughts by listening to Yasahiro’s music. Whatever it was, it sounded like downtempo French techno.
“How’s your French?” I asked him, breaking the companionable silence.
He rattled off a long sentence in French and I blankly stared at him. He laughed. “My French is excellent. I made it a point to not speak Japanese at all while I was living there. It was either French at work and around town or…” His voice faded as he accelerated from a red light that turned green.
The Daydreamer Detective Braves the Winter Page 3
