Page 5

FIVE

FLYING DEMONS

Natalie

I sat in my car for about twenty minutes, music playing quietly in the background while my eyes flicked between the front door and Theo’s black truck parked beside me before I finally decided to go inside the house.

I hopped out of my car and waved to our neighbor, Ms. Morris, who was checking her mail and staring over my head at Theo’s truck. Better yet, she was glaring daggers at the truck like it had personally offended her.

“Natalie, is that boy behavin’?”

I plastered a fake, cordial smile on my face. Ms. Morris was lonely, so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Her son had moved out years ago, and her husband was rarely home. Neighborhood gossip, it seemed, was the only thing she had left to look forward to.

I just didn’t like being the topic.

“Yes, Ms. Morris.”

She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes like the truck was a symbol for Theo’s delinquency.

“Well, you let me know if you need anything.”

And the way she said that was like she expected me to be banging down her door sooner rather than later. Instead of snapping at the judgmental broad, I hurried into the house and quickly closed the door behind me.

I loved my house. I took a deep breath when I was finally inside, and a sense of calm washed over me. My house was great, but some of my neighbors were assholes. Nosy assholes who were too curious about Ryder leaving and Theo staying.

I leaned back against the closed front door and banged my head against it like it would dislodge the Theo-filled thoughts.

But of course, it didn’t. I walked further into the house and dropped my purse and laptop bag onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Two seconds later, I kicked my heels off, scooped them up, and headed up the stairs.

Halfway up, I paused momentarily to glance down at my phone. Ryder had responded to my earlier message, asking how he was doing. We’d talked a few times since he’d left, but they’d only been short conversations touching on the high points. He was busy, and I didn’t want to bother him too much.

Ryder: Everything’s great! Working on a big project. Tell you about it soon.

I smiled and told him I couldn’t wait to hear about it before continuing upstairs.

Theo’s room, previously our guest bedroom, was the first door on the right. My steps slowed as I approached. The door was closed—as it usually was—and I didn’t hear any sounds or movement emanating from the other side.

After almost two weeks of living together, we’d both learned each other’s schedules fairly well. It was Friday night, which meant he’d had class that morning and was likely getting ready for work.

We didn’t see much of each other since I worked while he was at school, and he worked several nights a week, usually from six-ish to well past midnight.

Which meant we also hadn’t spent much time together. There was the occasional “hi” or “bye” as we passed each other, but that was the extent of our interactions. And I was still more curious than I should’ve been about him.

Rather than stand outside of his door like a fucking weirdo, I continued to my room at the end of the hall. Closing the door, all I could think about was washing the week off. We’d hired three new attorneys and a new legal secretary, which meant my week was filled with onboarding and training and paperwork and utter chaos.

Thinking about stepping under the warm water and letting the lingering tension and stress wash down the drain made it my top priority. I tossed my heels into the closet and clumsily stepped out of my clothes, leaving them in a messy trail between my closet and the shower. I pulled open the glass door and turned the water on until the handle was pointing all the way to the left, and the water was bound to singe my skin when I stepped in.

I let it warm for a minute or two and dimmed the lights slightly. It was one of my favorite rooms of the house. I’d hand-picked the dark gray, nearly black tile that covered the shower floor and ran up the walls. I’d also refused to waver on the rainfall showerhead we’d installed and the dimmable lights.

It was the perfect place and as close as I would ever come to having a spa retreat in my own home.

Grabbing a clean towel from the closet, I hung it on the hook affixed to the glass and stepped inside.

Only to be dive-bombed by the largest flying insect I’d ever seen.

I was screaming before I even fully understood what was happening. Suddenly I realized it wasn’t just any insect, but a giant fucking roach that had targeted me and landed directly on my chest.

A secondary scream burst from my lips as I flailed, my hands frantically beating against my chest to remove the giant creature. In my attempt to brush it away, I tumbled backward, hands flying out, aimlessly reaching for something to stop my fall. The only thing I was able to grab onto was my towel, which was no help and ended up falling on top of me as my ass and back hit the tile with a resounding thud.

I bit my lip to keep from crying out in pain but quickly remembered the reason I’d fallen in the first place. Pain be damned, I gripped the towel around myself and scooted as far as I could away from the shower, scanning the floor the entire time for the stupid asshole bug.

“What the?—”

The voice drew my attention from the shower to my bathroom door. Theo was standing in the doorway, his face contorted in shock and concern.

My cheeks immediately heated with embarrassment as I gaped up at him. I’d screamed, so logically, he’d come running.

“There was—there was a roach.”

The words left my mouth, and in an instant, his worry morphed into humor. The corners of his mouth tilted upward, and I appreciated that he at least rolled his lips to keep the impending smile at bay.

“All of this over a roach?” he asked, stepping farther into the bathroom and peering into the shower. The flying demon was scuttling across the ground near the rug, and as I frantically looked for any sort of weapon, Theo stepped on it.

He cut his eyes to me for a moment before he grabbed two tissues from the counter and scooped the crushed remnants. He crossed the small space to the toilet and unceremoniously flushed it.

Good riddance, motherfucker.

“It landed on me,” I said when he reappeared a second later. Did I love cockroaches or any insect that unsuspectingly flew at me? Absolutely the hell not. I didn’t think anyone really did, and therefore my reaction was completely understandable. For some reason, I really wanted him to know that, if only to eliminate some of my embarrassment.

“It landed on you?”

I nodded and tried to stand while carefully keeping the towel covering all my important bits.

Theo averted his eyes as I stood, but he did so slowly. He stepped back toward the door, stuffing his tattooed hands in his front pockets, as I secured the towel around my middle.

When I turned back around to face him, I immediately realized how close we were. We were only a few feet apart in the small space, and I was nearly naked.

“Yes,” I finally said, my voice wavering slightly. “It attacked me.”

He again tried to stifle his smile, and I felt like I was in high school again, feeling the flush on my cheeks spread down my chest.

“Hence the screaming,” he said, and all I could do was roll my eyes.

“Thank you for killing the stupid thing, but if you’re going to chastise me, then you can leave.”

One of his eyebrows lifted, and his playful, amused expression morphed into something a little darker. And suddenly I was flushing for an entirely different reason.

“What are you saying, Natalie? I could stay otherwise?”

I froze and turned his words over in my mind a few times before I was able to breathe again. His light brown eyes were expectant and steadfast on me, considering my reaction with intense scrutiny.

No matter how long I stood there, gaping like a fish out of water, I wouldn’t have come up with a decent response. I felt like I was glitching. Like his presence was short-circuiting my brain.

Finally, he took pity on me and turned to leave. But before he could completely close the door behind him, I said, “Thank you, Theo.”

He paused, hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles were white. He didn’t move his head, but his eyes bounced back to me for a second, like he was reconsidering leaving at all. But his second of hesitation was only that—a second of contemplation before he closed the door.

I heard my bedroom door close as well over the sound of the shower feet away.

Immediately, I hung the towel back on the hook, scanned for any other little creatures, and stepped under the hot water quickly steaming up the bathroom.

It wasn’t nearly as soothing as I’d hoped it would be. The entire interaction was wholly unsettling, and I could still feel Theo’s gaze, like a lingering sensation that was vibrating over my skin.

The water was doing nothing to make it disappear. I honestly didn’t think anything would.

I cut my shower short by at least twenty minutes. All I thought about while I was standing under the spray was what would have happened had I told Theo he could have stayed.

That’s what I’d wanted to say. The curiosity clawing at the back of my mind whenever I thought about him urged me to push, but those were also the type of thoughts that were guaranteed to get us in a shitload of trouble.

I so badly wished Caroline hadn’t ditched me that evening. I was supposed to be cooking for the both of us, but one of her favorite guys she only saw every few months called and let her know he was in town for the night. One night meant our dinner would have to wait.

Before heading downstairs, I threw on my favorite pair of sweats—that were worn and far past their prime—and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I’d planned to make myself a drink, cook one of my favorite meals, and try to put any thoughts of Theo completely out of my mind.

But my plan was immediately abandoned when I walked downstairs to find Theo standing in the middle of the kitchen. He was staring down into the freezer drawer, likely contemplating which frozen meal he’d prepare that night.

I continued down the stairs, hitting the third stair that always squeaked slightly and drawing Theo’s intense stare from the freezer up to me.

I blew out a breath and cleared my throat before I said, “I was going to cook tonight if you want to eat with me instead of eating…” I pointed to the open freezer door.

Rounding the kitchen island from the other direction, so I didn’t have to pass him, I grabbed the whiskey and aperol from the bar cart near the kitchen table.

“Is bourbon the main course, or are we skipping straight to dessert?”

I slid both bottles onto the island and considered how it looked, pulling two bottles of liquor out after stating that I was cooking. After the long week I had, it honestly wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

He closed the freezer and turned to assess me, crossing his arms and leaning a hip against the counter.

“It’s the appetizer,” I volleyed back. I pulled two glasses from the cabinet and set them next to the liquor. With a brow raised, I looked back up at him in silent question.

One side of his mouth tilted upward, and I took that to mean he wanted one too.

He slid into one of the barstools on the other side of the island as I set to making the cocktail. With Theo watching me closely, I fumbled through making the drink more than I normally would have but finally managed to pour it from the shaker into the two glass tumblers.

I tapped my phone and connected to the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen at the same time Theo took his first sip. Eyes still locked on me over the top of the glass, he pressed it against his lips and tilted it back.

The music filtered through the air and filled at least parts of the silence.

An unreadable expression passed over Theo’s face, somewhere between a smile and a grimace. I sipped my own drink wondering if I’d done something to mess it up, but the orange and lime flavors burst on my tongue, followed by the savory, smokiness of the bourbon.

“Do you not like it?” I finally asked.

He leaned back and tapped a tattooed finger against the glass as he shook his head. “I love it…and this song,” he said, and I smiled. He returned my smile with a small one of his own, and I was thankful that some of the tension dissipated with it.

Ignoring the way even his small smile sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I started collecting ingredients from the fridge. It took more effort than I hoped it would to ignore the giddy anticipation when it was the first time I’d felt that way in…forever. I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt half of what Theo made me feel with a simple compliment and a small smile.

“I was going to make chicken parmesan,” I said casually over my shoulder as I pivoted and opened the cabinet to my left.

After considering which bowls I needed, I stretched up onto my toes and reached as far as I could. My fingers still barely grazed the edge of the porcelain, and rather than risk breaking the dish, I dropped back down flat on my feet and braced my hands on the counter, preparing to jump up on it.

When I was too lazy to grab the step stool I kept tucked in the hall closet, I boosted myself onto the counter and retrieved what I needed. Which happened more often than not.

The granite was cool beneath my fingers, but as I began to press up, bracing myself to hop onto it, a warmth blanketed me from behind. I sucked in a sharp breath and stilled as Theo stepped up behind me. He easily reached up into the cabinet and grabbed all three bowls.

He kept some distance between us. His chest was the only part of him that brushed against me as he took the bowls in hand, but I could still feel the warmth and enormity of his body. It seeped into me like he’d wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest.

As quickly as he appeared, he was gone, and I shivered at his absence.

“Thanks,” I murmured, trying to hide my reaction.

He’d set the three bowls next to each other on the island and began sifting flour in the first one.

My eyebrows nearly hit my hairline at his initiative. He glanced up in time to catch my expression and shrugged as he continued to the second bowl, where he cracked an egg.

“Are you surprised I can cook?”

“No,” I responded quickly. But he cocked a dark brow at my rushed answer.

Immediately I turned my attention to…anything else. I needed some sort of distraction from him. My kitchen wasn’t necessarily small, but Theo seemed to take up any of the free space.

I set the chicken on the counter and started working on the pasta and the sauce. We cooked in companionable silence for several minutes. He dredged the chicken in the flour, then the eggs, and finally in the breadcrumb and parmesan mixture he’d mixed up and I’d seasoned.

Every once in a while he’d ask me where specific utensils were, but I was surprised he knew where almost everything else was. We easily moved around and with one another. Never once did it feel awkward or strange.

As it had been since he moved in, it took more effort than I liked not to watch him work.

“Do you have to work tonight?” I finally asked. We were only halfway through cooking, and it was already later than he usually left.

“Later,” he said, standing next to me at the stove. I stirred the pasta as he tossed a breaded chicken breast into the hot pan.

“How are your classes?”

He cut his eyes at me as he grabbed the tongs from the holder. Whether he liked it or not, I was determined to learn more about him. I wanted to get him talking.

“They’re good.”

“What are you studying?” I asked, hoping that the question would lead to more than a one- or two-word answer.

“Business.”

Well, that backfired, but I also couldn’t hide my surprise at his answer. That was the last thing I expected him to say, and I was considering a follow-up question when he commented on the expression I couldn’t manage to keep hidden.

“That’s surprising, too?”

“Yes, I expected you to say something like?—”

“Art?”

“Yes!”

He chuckled, and I smiled, turning my focus back to the pasta instead of appraising the black tattoos running up the length of his neck.

“I umm…” he trailed off, his eyes going distant. For several seconds, he stared at the digital clock on the oven, but I could tell he wasn’t invested in the time. There were a million other thoughts plaguing him. I could almost see the memories flitting behind his eyes.

“My boss, Robbie, wants me to take over the studio after I graduate or soon thereafter.”

“So you’re studying business to take over the business?”

He nodded and flipped the chicken, which was perfectly crispy.

“And you enjoy it?”

He choked out a humorless laugh and shook his head. “I don’t, but it’s going to get me where I want to be, so that’s all that matters.”

That concept I understood better than most people. When I was only a teenager, I had to consider how to end up where I wanted to be. I was a teenager with a toddler, so all I could manage was an associate’s degree that took me four years of night classes to complete, but it allowed me to apply for the jobs I really wanted.

Maybe it hadn’t been totally necessary looking back, but at the time, it felt like the only possibility.

“So, you really love tattooing?”

I already expected his answer, but what I didn’t expect was the earnestness with which he spoke or the seriousness in his expression.

“More than almost anything.”

“What do you love about it?”

He was quiet for a few seconds, moving the cooked chicken to a clean plate and replacing it with another piece in the pan.

“I like the creative aspect. It’s also insane that people trust me enough to ink something permanent on their skin. But when I’m tattooing…it’s easy to let everything go. When the gun is in my hand, nothing else exists.”

I liked listening to him talk about it. There was a reverence in his voice that I hadn’t expected. It was also the most I’d ever heard him speak. The most words he’d strung together.

I swallowed around thick emotion clogging my throat and traced the sharpness of his jaw with my eyes. My fingers itched to reach out and run my hand against the dark stubble dusting his chin as his eyes found mine.

Clearing my throat, I turned the burner off, removed the pot from the heat, and drained the pasta into the colander in the sink.

“What do you do at the law firm?” Theo asked.

“I pretty much run the place, make sure it doesn’t burn down, that kind of thing.”

“Sounds important,” he commented, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

When I turned back around, Theo was smiling, like actually smiling at me, and my heart collided with the inside of my chest. Then his eyes swept down my body, and an entirely different feeling washed over me. I was self-conscious under his attention, but I was frozen in place.

I didn’t think I was unattractive by any means, but fresh out of the shower, my hair still damp and wearing a pair of threadbare sweats, I also wasn’t anything to look at. But you wouldn’t have known with the way Theo’s attention lingered over me.

Our gazes collided. His eyes were brimmed with something that towed the nearly invisible line of friendly and more . And all his unwavering, undivided attention settled between my thighs.

It was all I could do not to press them together and relieve some of the incessant pulse.

The desire startled me enough that I broke our connection and turned on the water to rinse the pasta. I wish I could’ve splashed some on my face without looking like I’d lost my mind more than I already had.

“I guess you could say it’s important. I know the place definitely wouldn’t run right without me,” I said.

“How long have you worked there?” he asked, turning back to the chicken and adding a new piece to the pan.

“Umm…” I muttered. It had been so long I had a hard time doing the mental math. “Fifteen years?”

“You’re dedicated.”

I chuckled but shook my head. “I guess so. They were really flexible when Ryder was younger. I could take off however much time I wanted and as often as I needed to. And the company’s still really great so that’s hard to leave.”

He nodded thoughtfully and plated the last piece of chicken on the platter.

I stepped around him to stir the sauce one more time and remove it from the burner.

“But you don’t enjoy it anymore?” Theo asked as I grabbed two shallow bowls from the cabinet.

“No, I do, but it’s also all I’ve ever known. Maybe I’ll do something else eventually, but I’m not sure.”

We both made our plates and sat down at the island. We each took a bite, and it was even better than the last time I made it.

I caught him looking at me out of the corner of my eye and peered over to find him staring at me with a slight curve to his lips.

“What?” I asked around a mouthful of chicken.

“You were dancing,” he said, taking a sip of his drink and twirling the pasta around his fork. “Do you do that often?”

“Dance when I eat?” I hadn’t even realized I was doing it until he pointed it out.

He nodded.

“Sometimes.”

His eyes lingered on my face for another second before he turned back to his plate.

“This is amazing,” he muttered between bites.

“It is really good. We did well,” I said with a smile. “So, you’re studying business and you’re a talented tattoo artist. What else should I know about you?”

He narrowed his eyes in my direction and sat back in his stool. His large body made the chair beneath him appear so much smaller than it really was. “How would you know if I’m talented?”

“I don’t think your boss would want you to take over his business if he didn’t think you were talented.”

He considered it for a moment and ran his finger around the rim of his half-filled glass.

“There’s not much else to know,” he said, and I gave a derisive snort. It wasn’t very flattering, but I couldn’t help it.

“You don’t believe me?”

I shook my head. “No, not at all.”

He took another bite and then took a deep breath, followed by a sip of his drink. “There’s nothing you’d probably want to know.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him he was completely wrong, that I wanted to know everything, but I didn’t. Instead, I tried to lighten the mood with the first question that came to mind.

“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, and before he could answer, and while he was looking at me like I’d asked something completely abnormal, I said, “Let me guess: black.”

He chuckled and peered around the room. “And let me guess, yours is green.”

I also glanced around and noted all the pops of green I’d recently added. “Lucky guess. Favorite type of food?”

“Mexican. You?”

“Mediterranean.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

I dropped my fork and gaped at him. “Okay, well, we’ll fix that. Favorite genre of music?”

He considered me for a moment, licking his lower lip and tucking it between his teeth. He leaned forward slightly, and our knees inadvertently brushed. The small, innocent touch was enough to send a burst of desire down my spine and twisting through my arms and legs.

The sensation made me lightheaded, and all I wanted was for him to touch me again. Not accidentally, but with purpose and promise. Because he wanted to know what I felt like under his fingers.

“This,” he said, and it took me a second to remember what I’d asked. He pointed to where the Bluetooth speaker sat on the counter, and I furrowed my brow.

“Nineties or rock?”

He nodded and with a small smile, stated plainly, “Both. Any kind of rock, though, and from any decade, really.”

“Well, I guess that’s good that we both have the same taste in music,” I said, and quickly added, “since you know, we live in the same house right now. That would really suck if either of us was playing music that the other didn’t like. That could be…annoying.”

He smiled like my babbling was entertaining, and I rolled my eyes, eating the last bite of my food and pushing the plate away.

Theo was out of his barstool in the next second, grabbing both of our empty plates and loading them into the dishwasher.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” I tried to say, but he waved me off, loading the rest of the pots and pans we’d used into the dishwasher as well.

He worked quickly, and while he did, I made myself another drink and asked him more pointless questions like what his favorite animal was and his favorite sport.

“Golf?” I questioned, gobsmacked, as he started the dishwasher cycle and closed it. He wiped his hands on the towel and turned to me, leaning back against the counter and appearing much more at ease than he was an hour earlier.

“Golf cannot be your second favorite sport.”

He shrugged and tossed the towel onto the counter.

“I guess it doesn’t require much talking, and you’re supposed to be quiet, so for those reasons, it makes sense,” I said, and he shook his head.

“Did you play golf?” I asked.

His smile fell, and I immediately wanted to retract the question, but instead of withdrawing as I suspected he would, Theo sighed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“When I was younger, my dad and I would go all the time. He’d take me and my older brother at least every few weeks, so I got pretty good. He even put me in lessons for a while. But I haven’t been in several years.”

Just that short answer—well, short for the average person—included so much more information. He had an older brother and, at one time, had a close enough relationship with his dad that they did things like play a round of golf.

But I noted the way he forced the word “dad” out like it was hard for him to say.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward to where I was leaning against the island. Two steps and he was in front of me, close enough that the knuckles of my hand gripping my drink grazed the fabric of his black shirt.

We were so close I could smell his clean masculine scent and see the ring of yellow surrounding his pupil. His amber eyes were steadfast on mine, and I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. Maybe I imagined it or only saw what I wanted to, but when his lids lowered, there was a hunger churning in his gaze.

In my peripheral, I saw him reach out, and I stuttered a breath. His fingers brushed against my arm, and against my will, my eyelids fluttered slightly.

But then I heard his keys sliding against the counter, and he quickly stepped back. He twirled them around his fingers but didn’t release my stare.

“Thank you for dinner, Natalie,” he said, his voice lower than it had any right to be.

“You’re welcome,” I said automatically, but it was breathy, and when he smiled, I knew he heard it too.

He turned to walk away, and that was when my eyes caught on his keys and the dark pink keychain that was hard to miss. He hadn’t yet gotten rid of it, the keychain with my name on it. The one that had been on the keys when I’d given them to him. He’d added the two house keys to his car keys and hadn’t removed the keychain.

A strange mix of emotions tumbled through me. Maybe he just hadn’t had the chance, I reasoned. It wasn’t high on his priority list. Maybe he’d forgotten. He’d been in a rush to add the keys or something like that.

His boots softly thudded against the wood floor, and when the door closed and the lock clicked, I finally released a breath. Hurriedly, I found my phone and texted Caroline immediately.

Me: You think Tanner’s free tomorrow?

Since our first conversation, Caroline had asked me nearly every other day if I was ready for her to set me up. I was so vehemently against it that I even downloaded one—or all—of the dating apps to try to find my own date.

I knew I wasn’t ready for that, though. Two seconds into trying to create my profile, I completely gave up.

But spending time with Theo had been the motivation I needed. As was the needy pulse between my legs he’d left me with.

Caroline responded immediately.

Caroline: Okay, so don’t be mad, but I already told him you were free tomorrow. Actually, you can’t be mad because now you want to go out with him! I was just tired of you blowing me off.

Caroline: I’ll send you the details later. After I’ve been fucked within an inch of my life.

I should have been more surprised that my best friend took it upon herself to set me up when I told her not to. But I wasn’t. It was how Caroline showed her love.

Me: I’m so happy for you.

I added the middle finger emoji and hit send. Two seconds later, she sent back the same emoji with a kissy face.

I groaned into the empty house, crossed my arms over the counter, and laid my head on top of them. It was insane, the turn of events that had gotten me to that point. I hoped the date wasn’t a complete dud, but I also didn’t have high hopes that it would lead to anything more.

When you didn’t get your hopes up, it was harder to be let down in the end.

I knew it wasn’t the healthiest way to live life, but it was easier to protect myself that way. No expectations meant no reason to get upset. Caroline called me guarded, but I considered myself cautious.

Except with Theo. There was something about him that made me want to throw that all away. He made me not want to consider what other people thought or how I might get hurt. Even more reason I needed to go on the date. I needed to pivot my thoughts.

I groaned again and began making another drink.

Maybe the bourbon would douse my desire. Then again, maybe it would ignite it and burn us all down along the way.