His mood is dark. Closed off. After taking a walk in nature, you’d think he’d come back looking refreshed. Maybe it was a hard or treacherous trail and he’s tired.
Stepping further into the room, he pauses and glances around. “You cleaned up.”
“Since you left me here with nothing to do, I had to entertain myself somehow.”
He doesn’t apologize for leaving me. Not that I thought he would. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Something smells good.” He sits at the rickety—what I’m assuming is the dining table—and kicks off his boots then places them neatly next to his chair.
“I made dinner. I didn’t know how you like your steak cooked.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.”
He gets to his feet, pulls out silverware from a drawer, and takes two beers from the fridge and sets them on the table. I carry over our meal, and we sit down to eat.
“Where did you hike to?” I ask as I slice into the steak.
“Thomas Ridge.”
“What’s there?”
He takes a swig of beer. “Trees.”
Wow. Lucas is in a mood. He’s normally not the most pleasant man to be around, but this is next level. Did something happen on his hike? The only reason I’m trying to make conversation is because he’s letting me stay with him. Otherwise I’m happy to ignore him. If he doesn’t want to talk, I won’t push him.
We finish our dinner in silence.
Lucas collects the dishes and takes them to the sink. “That was delicious. Thanks.”
“I cooked, you clean,” I say. Although I thought I was happy for no conversation, I’m not used to so much quiet.
“Of course.” When the dishes are washed, dried, and put back into cupboards, he walks over to the bed. “I’m beat. I’m going to bed.”
He turns his back to me and lifts his t-shirt over his head and tosses it on a nearby chair. The muscles in his back ripple. His shoulders are broad, his waist narrow. Next he takes off his pants, folds them, and places them with the t-shirt.
I swallow hard. This man is built. I got a brief glance of the total package last night, but it was so fast, and I was so shocked, I never got to appreciate what I was looking at. Now, with his back toward me, I can take my time.
His fingers slip into the waistband of his underwear like he’s about to slide them down. I hold my breath. Is he going to get naked again? He stops—darn it.
He pulls the blankets back and gets into bed. Then places the blankets over his waist. It leaves his chest exposed, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes off his corrugated abs.
“Try not to snore tonight,” he says.
I suck in an offended gasp, which snaps my attention away from his body. “I don’t snore.”
Placing a hand under his head, he turns to look at me. “Yeah, you do.”
“I do not!” I bristle.
“I almost smothered you with a pillow.”
Getting up from the table, I sit on the recliner. It’s a little more comfortable with the extra padding on the seat. “Why didn’t you?”
“As tempting as it was, I’d have a body to dispose of, so I decided against it. Too much trouble.”
“How considerate.”