Page 107

It was a long, strange, and exhausting weekend. I’d worked just about every available hour, always on my feet. My fingers still smelled like garlic no matter how many times I washed them, every time I passed out into the bed.

And all I could think about was Chase.

Chase, whose kisses had practically melted me into a puddle right there in that beautiful kitchen. Chase, who’d had me halfway to his bedroom by the time one of his roommates burst through the front door.

Chase… who hadn’t called or even texted me, all damned week.

My thoughts were conflicted. I really liked him! I wanted him, totally desired him. And he wanted me, I was pretty sure of that. I could see it in his eyes. Feel it in his embrace, and in the way his taut body responded beneath my touch. And yet…

Monday finally arrived, and I strode straight through the kitchen and down that hall. I burst into his room without knocking, partially because the do

or was ajar, partially because I’d gone six grueling days without answers.

“Alright,” I spat, folding my arms across my chef’s whites. “Out with it.”

Chase was sitting at the other end of his room, typing away on his keyboard. The squared off, U-shaped desk he was at looked like an aircraft cockpit.

“W—What?” He pulled a wireless earbud away from his left ear. “Kayleen?”

“Yes, Kayleen,” I said crisply. “You know, your personal chef? The girl who comes here every Monday to prep meals for you?”

“Oh.” He squinted up at me. “It’s Monday?”

“The girl you kissed last week,” I went on. “A lot. I mean like, a real lot.” I felt my frustration slipping. “And really well, too, I don’t mind saying.”

Dammit, Kayleen.

I was supposed to stay strong. Supposed to get answers. And here was Chase, staring back at me like a deer in headlights. Rubbing absently at about two day’s growth of dark, stubbly beard.

God, even that made him look sexy.

“You sure it’s Monday?”

He was writing — that much I knew. I could tell by the far-away look in his eyes that I’d caught him in ‘the zone’.

Shit, Kayleen. I cursed myself silently. Now you look like a needy asshole!

The zone was something with which I was already familiar. Chase, Nathan, Burke — all three men in the house got into the zone at one time or another. They were all young authors, as well as lifelong friends. All of them working on a novel together, or rather, a series of novels.

A shared trilogy. That’s what they called it.

Ah, now I could remember. Chase had explained it to me in the kitchen once, while keeping me company as I peeled carrots.

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, backing out of the room. All at once I was terribly embarrassed. “Forget I even did this.”

Embarrassment wasn’t usually my thing. But here, I was pretty sure I’d overextended. I’d ventured quickly into you-look-like-an-asshole territory, and I really hated that territory.

“Kayleen, wait…”

Chase backed out of the cockpit by rolling his chair away from the desk. As he approached me, I scanned around his room.

“Not bad,” I said, checking out the decor. “A little more contemporary than I expected, but—”

“Kayleen listen,” he went on. “I—I’m so sorry about last week.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m not.”

He blushed again, his face turning that same adorable red. “Well I’m not either if we’re being honest,” he mumbled, “but it was something I felt I had to say. You know. In light of what happened.”