Page 20 of Rootbound

“Then go inside, where it’s warmer,” he offers. He looks down as I fold my arms across my chest and understanding lights his face. “Oh.” And then he smiles again, and opens the door. He tosses my coat on the nearby rocking chair, solidifying his stance.

I roll my eyes and head in.

Eleven

Tait

I do realize that I’m in a strange man’s house, in the middle of the night, after he has attacked me in the woods, felt me up, broken my camera, and playfully taken my (beloved) coat away… and I further realize that I hadn’t consideredanyof it until this point. I mentally shake myself while simultaneously hearing my own subconsciousness’s voice purrSo what? He doesn’t give off that threatening vibe, and what’s the worst this could lead to?

Mmhm.

Clearly, he has more consideration for my self-preservation than I do, because he offers my coat back to me, looking a little disappointed. “I was kidding,” he says dully.

He probably assumes I’m into him, as I’m sure most other warm-blooded females are.

I attempt to wrap my coat around me and feel something pinch in my side again. Henry catches my wince.

“Go sit down and let me take a look at your side.”

Just then, because I haven’t been put through enoughtorture tonight, my stomach chooses to let out the most audible, long-winded, gurgling growl that has ever occurred,ever,and I’m reminded of what sent me out into the night to begin with.

Henry’s eyes go wide and he holds his hands up in surrender, as if I’m in charge of my stomach’s auditory tendencies. “Or, I can feed you first?” he says, eyes on my midsection.

I sigh. “Thank you. There’s not a scrap of food in my place.” And then I catch the complaint in my voice and try to cover it.

“… Not that Iexpectto be fed or the groceries to be stocked for me. I was invited to dinner and everything, and could’ve gone into town for food if I hadn’t fallen asleep. I just—I’m starving,” I elaborate.

He chuckles, the sound skating through me. “It’s alright, go ahead and sit. I’ll make a drink first. Assume you don’t feel concussed?”

“No, my head is completely fine, actually.” Minus the fifteen-year-old boy that’s taken up where my libido resides.

“Any preferences?”

“I’m not picky, thank you.”

I head over to the sofa. Everything is surprisingly tidy and nicely appointed. No detritus piled up anywhere. It makes me suspicious of how often he’s actually here.

He heads over to the kitchen as I’m mentally grappling with another wave of self-consciousness. I’ve been assuming he lives here on his own this entire time—maybe it’s so tidy because his girlfriend (or wife?!) keeps it that way?

“Are you alone?” I blurt out before I can think better of it.

“What?” He looks at me quizzically, head rearing back at my shout.

“I mean, is your girlfriend or anyone going to be woken up by us?”

“Do you plan on being particularlyloudfor any reason?”

“What? No!!” Then, realizing how loudthatwas, “No, I mean—”

He laughs again. “Relax, I’m kidding. Yes, I live alone. Just Belle and I.”

At the mention of the latter, I pat the seat next to me to get her on the couch before I blow out a breath. It’s not lost on me that he didn’t clarify being unattached. Unfortunately, being in the single world, even in the smallest degree that I have been, has taught me that some men choose not to be transparent about those things for a reason.

Scratching Belle’s ears and petting her soft fur calms my frazzled nerves. I’m pleased to smell something delicious coming from the kitchen, my stomach mewls in agreement.

Henry emerges with a grilled cheese and what looks like a cocktail, and I can’t help but steal a glance at his gray sweatpantseffect. There’s something a little too intimate about him serving me food in his bare feet. When did he shed his boots? I’m genuinely annoyed at my baser attraction to him. It’s been so long since someone besides myself participated in my orgasm. I sigh, suddenly veryawareof everything he’s doing. I remove my shoes and feel my eyebrows come together on their own accord as he brings the goods in front of me. The food, too.

“What?” he snaps at my expression. “Sorry I don’t have any fresh sushi on hand, Sunshine.” Ahh, yes, there he goes ruining it with speaking, again.