Oh man, I wanted that food. But I really didn’t want to let him into my house. He probably wouldn’t figure out that I had a trove behind the walls, but I hated to risk it.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“I thought you’d be hungry.”
“You want to interrogate me.”
“Nah. I just thought you’d be hungry.” Sincerity shone in his eyes.
Butterflies set up a cacophonous racket in my stomach, which wasn’t hard considering how empty it was. I glared at Aidan, knowing that I looked unwelcoming but having a hard time wrapping my head around him. Confusion pissed me off.
“What’s your deal?” I asked. “I bet you live over in Enchanter’s Bluff.” There was no way a guy as wealthy as him didn’t live in the rich section of town. “It’s got to be a thirty-minute drive over here. Just to bring me food?”
“It was worth the drive.”
“Why?”
“To see you.”
Okay, this was so outside of my pay grade. Killing demons and stealing treasure—that was about all I was qualified for. Hot dudes trying to woo me? Not so much.
At least, I assumed this was wooing. Bringing a girl food sure sounded like wooing to me.
“This isn’t a date,” I said.
“No,” he agreed. “Definitely not a date. You’ll know when it’s a date. This is just me bringing you food because I knew you’d be beat when you woke up.”
I tried not to let the sentiment get to me, but it poked me in the heart all the same. Not only did I want to devour whatever was in the white takeout bag, I wanted to hang out with Aidan. Even though I knew it was a bad idea.
I weighed suggesting eating in the shop below versus letting him in. A sigh heaved out of me.
“Come on in.” Letting him in was less suspicious, and he didn’t need any more reasons to think I was hiding something.
“Thanks.” He stepped inside, and I shifted so that he wouldn’t go toward my bedroom. It meant I had to stand nearer to him, which just made my heart start to pound faster.
“Kitchen’s that way.” I tilted my head toward the doorway on the other side of the room and stifled a small sigh of relief when he walked toward it.
“You got any beer?” he asked as he entered the kitchen.
I followed him in, helplessly sniffing the scented air he left in his wake. “In the fridge. Help yourself.”
My kitchen was tiny and almost completely nonfunctional. All the appliances were ancient. Not retro in a cool way. Just ancient. With P & P down the street, there was no reason to cook. And all my money was tied up in the trove. I was probably a hoarder, but at least it was all packed away neatly in a secret closet.
I grabbed some paper plates and plastic utensils from the cupboard.
“PBR?” Aidan asked.
I turned to see him standing in front of the fridge, holding two cans. “Yeah? Got a problem with that?”
“Never pegged you for a hipster-beer kinda girl.”
“That’s hillbilly beer, thank you very much,” I said as I grabbed one. “And hipsters drink microbrew too, you know. I bet you drink microbrew.”
He raised his hands. “So I like a decent beer every now and again.”
“This is decent beer!” I held it out in front of his face. “Look, right there on the label! It says Blue Ribbon. That means it’s good. Blue Ribbons are for winners.”
He grinned.
He was screwing with me.
“Just bring the food,” I said as I headed to the living room.
Though there was a little round table pushed in front of the window on the other side of the room, I preferred to eat on the couch whenever possible. Since I still wasn’t feeling one hundred percent, I veered toward the couch.
I plopped down and put the plates on the table, then opened my icy beer and took a swig.
“So what if this doesn’t have much taste,” I said. “It’s refreshing and delightful. PBR delivers.”
Aidan gave me a skeptical look as he sat next to me and popped his can. “I’ll try to re-approach it with an open mind.”
I watched him drink, trying to keep my eyes off the motion of his strong throat as he swallowed.
Okay, I was clearly going nuts if I was looking at a guy’s throat and getting the hots for him. But I couldn’t help it. All of him was hot—from his model face to his sculpted muscles. Why couldn’t he look like a normal dude? That wouldn’t make my mind get all fuzzy.
When Aidan lowered his can, he caught me staring at him. I almost slumped with relief when he said, “Not too bad,” instead of calling me out for staring.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good, right? And cheap. There’s loads to love about it.”
“Don’t know if I’d say love.”
“Just get the food out, Mr. Critic.”
He pulled several cartons out of the bag, along with a paper-wrapped parcel of Naan bread. I made grabby hands, and he passed me a carton that smelled like curry.
“Okay,” I said as I swallowed a bite that I’d scooped up with the bread, “I’m officially thanking you for bringing this over. It’s amazing.”
“No problem.”