He gave me a quick once-over, and something in his eyes darkened slightly. Not in a lustful way—though I was sure he noticed the way his shirt hung off me—but in a softer, more vulnerable way. Like he was relieved to see me standing. Breathing. Here.
“You look…” he hesitated, then chuckled. “Warm.”
I rolled my eyes. “I look ridiculous.”
“You look beautiful,” he said, without missing a beat.
My heart skipped.
I busied myself by looking around the kitchen. “What are you making?”
“Roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and sautéed green beans,” he said, flipping something in a skillet. “Comfort food.”
“Comfort,” I repeated under my breath.
He glanced at me. “You can sit, you know. Or if you want something to drink, the fridge is open. I’ve got juice, water, tea... and some chocolate
