Chapter Six
Standing in the middle of the cereal aisle while Cage debated the merits of cinnamon flavored versus plain sugar flavored amused the hell out of Bianca. It was the last thing she thought she’d be doing, especially after she tased him on her donut run. While he kind of deserved it for sneaking up on her, she felt bad that she’d actually hurt him.
He’d been all kinds of cute lying there on the ground looking poleaxed. Cute and a little helpless. A twinge of guilt eased between her ribs. He’d also been good looking, a rumpled kind of sexy with his five o’clock shadow roughing up his clean-cut appearance.
“You know, we can get both, if you’re that concerned about which one is better,” she told him. Mostly because she’d forgotten to listen to his dissertation on the flavor conundrum of aisle twelve.
“You sure?” He paused, still weighing the boxes in his hands. They were both ginormous. Either one could feed her for a week or two. Not that she would likely eat either; they were too sweet for her tastes. Her love for the hot fudge cake and ice cream the night before notwithstanding, she didn’t even eat her donuts glazed. Though Cage apparently possessed a hell of a sweet tooth, he’d gotten chocolate-covered donuts, bear claws, and éclairs at the shop that morning.
The man had the appetite to go with them; he’d eaten over half the donuts on the walk back to their respective houses. Once there, she’d let him invite her in for coffee. It was over a hot cup inside his very nice, cozy, and well-appointed kitchen that she revealed she still needed to go shopping. Which led them to the local large box chain store midmorning, debating cereal.
“I’m sure,” she told him, then circled around the burgeoning basket to retrieve some oat-based cereals with nuts. They were as close to all natural as she’d get in this place. She added it to the cart alongside the coffee maker—ordinary standard with recycled paper filters rather than the single cup maker Cage clearly favored. She’d added a box of basic plates, bowls, and mugs—a full set of four—she didn’t need much else.
Cage watched her place the cereal box, then raised his eyebrows. “You don’t really care which of these I get, do you?”
“Nope,” she said, trying to hide her smile, but the warmth in his eyes left her flustered. Her cheeks heated, and she scratched at her wrist inside the splint. The pinch distracted her from the playfulness radiating off of him.
“So why have me get both?” Genuine curiosity inhabited the question. Was she really standing in the middle of the grocery store with Señor Latin Hotness and debating breakfast foods?
“Because you wanted them.” Helping others was important to her, so was helping them get what they needed. Cage clearly needed to help her out. The casual way he tried to disguise his protectiveness didn’t deceive her.
“You don’t?” A hint of question clung to his statement.
“No, they’re too sweet for me. I loved dessert last night, but I’ve spent a lot of years not eating refined sugars. Too much is going to make me sick.”
“Well, fuck,” he muttered, shoving the boxes back onto the shelf. A woman moving along the opposite path of the aisle gave him a hawkish look, and Cage gritted his teeth.
“Don’t mind him,” Bianca assured her. “I spoiled his attempt to find something I liked.”
“Uh huh.” The woman flicked a look from Cage to Bianca’s bruised face, then her mouth tightened, and she radiated disapproval as she hustled on. Bianca bit her lip, then turned to find Cage staring after the woman with an impatient look.
“I told you,” she said to him in a quiet voice. “This bruise is really getting all the attention.”
“Yeah, it’s a war wound. They should show you respect, not disgust or disapproval.” Anger vibrated in the way he ground the words out between his teeth.
“Easy, tiger,” she said, offering a soothing stroke of his arm. Two days before, she wouldn’t have dreamed of overstepping personal boundaries. She’d been raised to respect personal space, particularly when she’d grown up among a number of different cultures. Some rules were universal. Yet Cage had leap-frogged from acquaintance to friend.
“I’m not a cat,” he muttered with a grumble, but resumed pushing the cart and moving on without his cereal.
“Tigers are pretty sexy,” she assured him, snagging each of the boxes he’d been salivating over and sidling up behind him to drop them in the cart. “Really sexy.”
“They’re cats.” He said it with such a measure of disgust she had to keep from laughing.
“You don’t like cats?” They made it to the toaster tarts and sweets section of the cereal aisle, and he added a couple of boxes of the pastries. Her stomach turned, positively revolted. How the hell did he manage that taut physique and admittedly seriously toned ass, which his shorts did nothing to hide, and eat all that crap?
“Not really.” Cage shrugged then continued on their survey to the next aisle.
“Any particular reason?” she asked, more for curiosity than anything else.
They’d made it to the canned vegetables aisle. It floored her, the wide array available. They didn’t stop for much on this stretch. It seemed Cage preferred fresh vegetables like she did, or maybe he was satisfied with the metric ton of meat they’d selected in the butcher section.
“They’re cats.” He made it sound like their existence was enough to dislike them.
More curious than anything, she picked up the pace to bring herself alongside the cart. They’d already grabbed cleaning supplies, meat, the new coffee pot, and dairy products. The next aisle held nirvana: coffee.
“So, I guess when I mention we should probably pick up cat supplies for the cat I want to get, you’re not gonna be thrilled?”
He stopped dead in his tracks and pinned her with a look. An interesting play of emotions creased his expression—disbelief peppered with equal measures of disgust and incredulity. “You do not want a cat.”
“Wow.” Bianca gave in to her own amusement and laughed. “You really don’t like cats.”
“Hmm.” It came out more a growl.
“I could want a cat,” she told him over her shoulder, before she paused in front of the coffee offerings. Three-quarters of the aisle, all devoted to different kinds of coffee. Coffee in little cups, big packages, instant coffee, flavored coffee, and coffee she could grind herself. Talk about the land of plenty. She could go for some plain canned coffee, but why not live a little?
“But you don’t want one, right?” Cage was at her elbow, seemingly scrutinizing her as if looking for a chink in her statement.
Did she? Giving it a moment’s consideration, she said, “I kind of do, but only because I know there are a lot of pets in shelters that don’t have homes or a good chance at a home. I think it would be awesome if I could offer them one.”
“Huh.” Looking like he’d swallowed something unpleasant, Cage leaned on the cart. “Well, I suppose. If you really want one…”
“You’re a peach,” she murmured, then touched a finger to his cheek and rose on her tiptoes to brush her lips to the corner of his mouth. The contact was electric. More than she expected, yet at the same time it was so right. “But I can’t. I’m planning to do a lot of interior work at the house. Wouldn’t really be fair to get a cat then make it stay away from everything while I resurface the wood, repaint the walls, and more.”
How she managed to finish her thought, she had no idea, but Cage stared at her. Almost dazed for a moment. Then he blinked like the lazy cat she’d been teasing him about.
“A single kiss won’t convince me.” The tease had her biting her lip, then he leaned away, adding, “Your house isn’t that bad.”
Grateful to return to the subject of her house rather than her impulsive public display of affection, she pivoted to look at the coffee choices. Debating whether she wanted Italian, Colombian, or…ooh, Sumatran. The rich aroma couldn’t compete with the scent of warm male next to her. God, what did he use for soap? It was intoxicating. “It’s not bad at all. I actually like it, but I bought it more as a fixer-upper than as a place I planned to put down roots.”
Silence greeted her statement. Bag full, she moved to the grinder and poured her chosen beans into the device, then read the instructions before choosing a medium grind. Done, she put her bag in place to catch the fresh grounds and glanced at Cage.
“I didn’t realize the house was temporary,” he said, his voice a careful modulation.
“Sorry, neighbor, but you have your own work to do. You did say you were on leave, right?”
“Right.” Still not happy, he grabbed a box of the prepared little cups and dropped it into the cart. After she sealed her bag of grounds and added it to the cart, he began pushing it again.
“Hey,” Bianca said, nudging him. “What’s wrong?”
She’d thought she would be more tired after the last few days, but fresh waves of energy surged through her.
“Nothing, I just didn’t realize you weren’t planning on sticking around. Austin suits you.”
As much as any city could suit a person, she supposed.
“Tell me about the rehab you want to do?” His disappointment discolored the question.
“Do you really want to know?” Most of the time, when she was Stateside, people only wanted to hear about her life overseas in the abstract. They couldn’t imagine giving up creature comforts for the life she led. She didn’t put down roots; she built foundations then moved on to the next disaster.
“Yeah, I really do.” He even found a smile as they headed into the produce area. “I want to know everything about you.”
Effervescent delight bubbled in her at his sincerity. “Well, okay then.” She paused to look over everything available. The oranges smelled fantastic, even from here. Everything smelled better—except for the stuff that didn’t. A craving for citrus filled her. Definitely getting the oranges. “My boss, Peter, I mentioned him, right?”
“Yep.”
“Well, Peter thinks I need a break. I’ve been working with the WRO—the World Rescue Organization—for more than a decade. I started with them before I even went to college, interning when they were in the same areas as my parents, spent time in the field on all my breaks. When I graduated, I immediately deployed to a water reclamation project in El Salvador, then to Paraguay, then at the end of the year I was in Jordan for a while.”
Fresh produce piled into the cart. Between them, they added all manner of fresh squash, zucchini, spinach, some ginger root—which would be great in tea, too—and cabbage, corn, and asparagus. The more she selected the hungrier she got.
“Long story short, I pretty much went from project to project. I took a couple of short holidays to go spend time with my parents wherever they were, but otherwise, I worked. I saved up a lot of vacation time and pretty much put all of my checks into a savings account. I didn’t need money on most of the assignments, since I lived with the people I was helping.”
“I didn’t think you could impress me more,” Cage said as he bagged up some lemons and limes. “I was wrong.”
Another blush heated her face. “I did what needed to be done. I liked the work, and I didn’t take vacations, because they didn’t get vacations. Peter thinks I’m burned out, though. It’s why I was in Costa Rica in the first place. He arranged for me to spend a week of my six-month sabbatical at that resort being pampered.”
Pampered didn’t suit her. Of course, hiking miles through the jungle in her bathing suit hadn’t really suited her, either.
“That didn’t work out well.” He grimaced, and it chased away the shadows of bad memories trying to fill her brain.
“Except I got to meet you, so maybe that’s a perk?” While she had to strain to look on the bright side, she helped herself to a few pounds of the oranges. She was half tempted to peel one and dive into it right now, but they had to pay by weight so that wouldn’t do. Cage took the heavy bag from her and set it in the cart.
“Meeting you was definitely a perk for me,” he assured her, his hand lingering on hers a moment. Riding the impulse, she gave him another kiss—this time on the cheek. The bruises on her feet protested the action, but it was worth it to see the stunned delight on his face when she retreated.
“Anyway, since the incident, Peter decided I might need more than six months. I don’t necessarily disagree that I needed to take a sabbatical. But now, he won’t approve any deployments for me until I’ve taken some real down time and probably get cleared by a head shrink. I’d already planned on rehabbing the house, was in negotiations to buy it before the resort, I’d be there a week, then here for a few weeks. Once I get it all fixed up and special, I’ll donate it to a family in need.”
Cage paused again to stare at her. “Why Austin?”
“Truth?” The cart groaned under the weight of their combined shopping, but Cage didn’t have any trouble pushing it. The deli was the last stop, and though she wasn’t sure they could possibly need more food, her companion’s look of determination stifled any argument she might have made. Maybe she hadn’t been in a grocery store with so many options in too long. She actually imagined she could smell the meat in the cases.
“Of course, I want the truth,” he told her, exasperated with her again. Poor guy, he didn’t know what to make of her any more than Peter, or maybe even her parents. “One sec,” he told her, then faced the butcher who approached them. “Three pounds each of roast beef, turkey, chicken, and ham—oh, and a couple of pounds of the pastrami.”
Shock rolled over her at the sheer volume of food, chasing away her weird thoughts of smelling the meat. Good lord, the man ate more than a growing teenage boy. Of course, looking as good as he did, maybe he burned all those extra calories…running. Or something more fun, like sex. Great, that was just what she needed. Her libido chiming in.
“Maybe add a couple of pounds each of some cheddar and American cheese. Do you want swiss or something else?” The last he said to her, and Bianca bit her lower lip.
“Sure, swiss would be great.” Because adding him to the menu would be overstepping, right? “Do you want him to split that order between us?”
“Nah, we’ll figure it out.” He winked at her, then looked at the deli guy once more. The kid working behind the counter appeared as stunned as Bianca felt. The guy went to work, and thankfully he didn’t pick the weird-smelling turkey. Cage refocused his attention on her. “Tell me why Austin.”
He hadn’t forgotten what they’d been discussing, dammit. Blowing out a breath, she leaned on the cart and tried not to think about how tempting the oranges were or how the selection of meats Cage chose enticed her. It was like she’d never been around food before. Everything tempted her—especially Cage.
“I loved reading about South by Southwest. It’s a—”
“Huge music festival every spring here.” Of course, he knew what it was; he was a local boy.
“Exactly. It’s not that far off, and if I was working on a house here, then I had an excuse to go and check it out.” Embarrassment slid through her. “And my parents have a place here—one they sublet while they’re out of country—so it was the only city that felt like home.”
“Hell yeah, you should check it out. It’s crazy, though. Crowded. The food…the food is pretty damn good, and you can catch musical acts you might not otherwise see. They’ve added all kinds of extras over the years.” His enthusiasm chased away her self-consciousness.
“Sounds like you’ve been before.”
“Once or twice…”
“Well, maybe if you’re around…” Was she really asking him out? “Would you like to go with me?”
His eyes kindled with a kind of wild energy, which cascaded into his widening grin. “It would be my absolute pleasure.”
Holy crap. Her heart did a little flip-flop. “It’s a date.”
She had a date. When the hell was the last time she had a real date? Not a meal to share, coffee with a study buddy, or a spontaneous bottle of bad wine in a rain-soaked tent, but a real, honest to God date.
Way to stick to her guns on not getting involved.
Still, it was a date.
Hot. Damn.
…
Cage put the safety brake on after he’d backed into Bianca’s driveway. She slid out of the truck before he’d even turned the engine off. It was a good thing he’d talked her into letting him drive her to go shopping rather than the walking-to-the-grocery-store adventure she’d planned.
“You were right,” she told him as he joined her and opened the gate. While she spoke, she gathered her hair up into a ponytail. Springtime in Texas and the cool morning had given away to a warm afternoon. Mountain cedar bloomed everywhere, and he could practically taste it on the wind.
“I usually am, but what was I right about this time?” He still had to cope with the effect of her kisses in the grocery store. They rocked his system as though she’d tasered him all over again. All he wanted to do was drag her close for another. Tasting her was a temptation he couldn’t afford. Not when he had no idea whether he’d changed her—not when he wasn’t being altogether honest with her. Not when…just not now. The internal growl helped. Relying on discipline to keep his hands to himself, he focused on her plan to return to her humanitarian work. Plus the house she’d purchased—a place he had to admit suited her—was not one she intended to keep. While he planned to donate his place to the pack and was only using it to stay close to her, the fact she had a similar plan threw him.
“About driving rather than walking to the store,” she said, then pursed her lips as though tasting something sour. “You know, for a nice guy, you tend to be pretty arrogant, too.”
“Turn off or turn on?” He gathered about a dozen of the bags and lifted them out of the back before meeting her bemused gaze. She’d given him a similar look in the grocery store when he’d ordered meat at the deli. The woman didn’t eat near enough, and his metabolism demanded at least three times what she might consider normal.
“Undecided.” Damn, she didn’t let him off the hook, but her smile warmed him more than the sun.
“Guess I’ll have to work harder.” He carried his load toward the garage door, pausing long enough at the code box to glance at her.
“One-One-One-Two-Three-Seven.” She rattled off the code while she picked up her coffee maker and cradled it. Of everything they’d shopped for that day, it was her most prized purchase. It had also been the only thing where she argued with him. Her determination swayed him more than his conviction to get the coffee maker he liked.
The garage door slid open. The interior was completely empty. It seemed weird, even his place had a tool kit and some tires for his truck.
He got the back door open and walked into her kitchen. The house still smelled of their dinner the night before, as well as the potent hints of her fragrance underscored by roses from her soap and a hint of distinctly feminine musk. He could drown in the sweetness, despite the touches of musty dust.
“I need to open the house again,” she said, following him inside with her bags. She set the coffee maker down, along with the bags. “We need to separate out your stuff.”
“Easy enough. Let’s get you stocked up first, then I can sort out my purchases.” He hated the idea she had no food, even if it gave him an excuse to pick out dinner and spoil her. Between the two of them, they emptied his truck in a few minutes.
She divided out the meat, repacking them into more compact forms—two steaks or two pieces of chicken into each one. Cage said nothing as he unpacked and set up her coffee maker. He lived alone and she lived alone, and while he could easily eat two or more steaks at a sitting, she didn’t have his appetite… Yet. His wolf’s assertion was the first rumbling from his beast since the electroshock encounter at four a.m.
Still, she set up the food as though there would be two of them at each meal. Unconscious decision or not, he approved.
“Do you want me to start a pot of coffee?”
“Oh my God, I would love you!” she exclaimed.
A ripple of satisfaction thrummed through him at her declaration.
“Well, in that case, I’ll definitely get coffee started.” He got the impression she preferred it strong. “Tell me about your plans for the house.”
“They’re not firm yet,” she began as she continued parceling out the meat. She had several stacks of chicken, steak, ground beef, and pork. His stomach rumbled, and his wolf twitched. They hadn’t had time for a good run since rescuing her. Past due, he’d have to head farther out of the city. Fortunately, he knew plenty of places off the beaten path.
“That’s okay,” he told her, filling the reservoir with water and getting the coffee going. After, he turned to the bags of fresh veggies and began to fill her woefully empty fridge. By the time they finished, it would be fully stocked. “Ballpark it for me.”
Genuine curiosity threaded through him. He sorted the vegetables into categories: “he’d never eat them” went in the bottom drawer; “he might consider them with enough salt” in the second drawer; and the three he enjoyed in the top drawer. The potatoes went in the pantry, and he organized the lunchmeats on a shelf in the fridge, along with the cheeses.
“Well, first things first, I want to repaint all the rooms. Yellow isn’t a bad color, but it should be brighter, more cheerful. This is all so sallow and dull.” She paused in the middle of sectioning the bacon. “I get why they chose the color; I just think it’s kind of depressing.”
Twisting, he studied the kitchen, then the living room. “Huh, I hadn’t noticed that it’s yellow in there, too. I thought it was cream last night.” Of course, she hadn’t had much in the way of lights on in the kitchen, and after ice cream, they’d gone out to the deck. “So, repainting, that’s pretty straightforward.”
“Yeah,” she said, pausing to finish the last stack of meat before stripping off her gloves. “There’s the floors, too. Lots of wood flooring in this place, old and original. So I think I want to sand them down and refinish them. I want to see how they look after I sand, though, then decide on the stain. It’s all kind of a grand idea in my head. I thought I would start one item at a time. And there’s the deck, too. I should probably clean out the yard, maybe plant some flowers…” She continued speculating aloud as she began bussing the meat into the freezer.
“Save us some steak. I have a grill at my place.”
“Dammit!” she exclaimed as she paused and set the steaks aside—two packages’ worth, which meant four steaks. He approved.
“What’s wrong?”
“I was going to buy a grill today, completely forgot it.” She blew a breath of air up, dislodging a loose tendril from her forehead.
“We can go out again,” he offered. “Or I can haul my grill over here.” He was rather proud of his. He’d cleaned it thoroughly before putting it in storage, and it was ready for use. “I’ve got propane, and it’s perfect for whatever kind of grilling we want to do. It also has a side smoker.”
The corner of her lips twitched.
“What?” He’d emptied everything except the dish towels, dishes, and other household items she’d purchased.
“You’re one of those guys who has a love affair with their grill, aren’t you?” She retrieved the box of dinnerware from inside the garage where she’d set it down earlier.
“I wouldn’t say love affair, but I do enjoy grilling.” Uncertain of whether he should be annoyed or pleased by her teasing, he went with the latter. “I’m damn good at it, too.”
“That sounds like you have something to prove.” She sliced open the box and began to empty the contents right into the dishwasher. Taking a page from her book, he fetched the box of glasses and the second one of pots and pans.
“No, I don’t have anything to prove, but you will have something to enjoy.” Despite his declaration, Cage recognized how spending time with Bianca added to his own entertainment.
“Cocky, much?” She paused, drawing in a deep breath of the coffee perfuming the air. “Are you angling for another date tonight?”
The playfulness in her tone beckoned to him. “As I recall, you invited me to the festival…and last night you invited me to dinner, but I insisted on paying because you didn’t want to go out.”
“All true.” She paused to wash out a couple of the mugs in the sink, then dried them before filling one with coffee, then angled toward the second one and raised her eyebrows at him.
“Yes, please.”
She didn’t miss a beat, filling the mug to the brim. The coffee was strong; the scent filled his nostrils and, for a moment, overpowered the sweetness of her. At least until she narrowed the distance between them and handed him the mug. Leaning back against the counter, he accepted it, then caught her hand to keep her from retreating. She’d left her mug behind, her wrist splint making it awkward to carry both.
The warmth of her fingers in his hand sent a skitter of electricity through his system. Like the taser that morning, it stunned him, and his tongue rooted to the roof of his mouth. Her soft hazel eyes widened a fraction. The bruise on her face haunted him, a shadow against her cosmetic-free skin. A spray of freckles decorated her nose, a hint of tan on her cheeks and forehead, the skin recovering from the burn. He traced every inch of her features, then before he could think better of it, he drew his finger down the length of her nose, following her freckles like he was playing connect the dots.
Beneath his finger, her skin warmed and a blush spread out prettily to pinken her skin. “Cage?” The hint of a catch in her voice tugged his attention to her eyes. They were wider, the pupils dilating, and the citrus sweetness in her scent left him heady. His wolf pushed against the inside of his skin, urging him forward, and he pulled her closer until she stood breast to chest with him. Her head had to tilt back to hold his gaze, and he had to bend his head down.
Zeroing in on her parted lips, slicked with moisture from her tongue wetting them, Cage exhaled a breath. “Can I make you dinner tonight, Bianca?”
Another catch of breath betrayed her, and beneath his fingertips, her pulse began to race. “This feels like a lot more than a dinner invitation.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” He couldn’t find a fault in her logic. Not when all he could think about was sampling a taste of her lips. With her hand in his, he set her palm against his chest, then held her there. If she’d shown an ounce of resistance, if she’d pulled away, he would have listened to the demand and released her. Instead, she leaned into him.
“Are you asking me for a date tonight?” When she licked her lips again, he wanted to groan. His whole body riveted to the slow, sweet action of her tongue. “Or for breakfast tomorrow?”
The words hammered around inside his brain like a pinball trapped between two bumpers, gaining momentum as he bounced back and forth between giving into desire and holding it in check.
“I want to kiss you.” The words slipped past the leash of his control and his wolf locked on her like a hunter scenting its prey. They didn’t want to devour her—only pleasure her.
Fuck. Me.
“That’s direct.” She caught her upper lip between her teeth and studied him. Awareness swarmed over him like an alcoholic buzz. When her silence lasted a moment too long, he opened his mouth to say something, and she pressed the fingers of her injured hand to his lips, quieting him. “Give me a moment to process the invitation and the reasons for and against saying to hell with it, and stripping off all our clothes.”
A shudder rolled along his spine. Another minute passed, and she traced her fingers along his lips. Tempted beyond all measure, he grazed his teeth against the pad of her fingertip. Her breath hitched at the action, and the potent musk of her desire spiraled around him. There were so many reasons he shouldn’t push their relationship—and one really compelling one to pursue.
“Pro list is winning,” she admitted in that raspy voice, which conjured all kinds of naughty images.
Drawing her finger against his lips, he sucked on it. He tasted the hints of coffee along with the salt of her skin. Need ballooned within him, and all his blood rushed south. His cock went hard as a stone, and the strain against his zipper threatened to castrate him. Bianca appealed to him on every level, and his wolf agreed wholeheartedly.
“Cage, you’re not married or have a girlfriend or something like that? You know—girl in every port?”
The question cracked through his haze. “That’s sailors, and no. There’s no one.” Hadn’t been in a long time. Half the time, he was a monk, content with his books, his team, and his missions.
Now, there was only Bianca.
“You’re driving me crazy, staring at me like that…” Breathless accusation or not, he could second the emotion.
“Like what?” Testing his luck, he slid a hand down to her hip and eased her forward until she leaned into him. The weight of her breasts pressed against his chest and pumped his need to dizzying heights.
“Like you could eat me up.”
“Well,” he said, the curve of her lips beckoning his smile. “I am hungry.”
Then she rose on her tiptoes, and his hand clasped her ass. The moment stretched between one heartbeat and the next. His lips fused to hers and he lost himself to the decadent taste of Bianca.
Inside, his wolf howled.