I don’t even notice how easilytheword slipped from my mouth. How natural it feels to call him that.
“I have a feeling I’ve seen him somewhere.”
“You might have.” I turn to look at him. “How long have you been working for Ezra?”
“Twenty years for the King family. And five years for Mr. Ezra, since his father retired from the company.” I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but I think he mumbles something like ‘thank fuck.’
Well, I just started liking George a little more.
I poke my face between the seats like a rabbit from the hat, making him smile. “We need to find an apartment for Jeff. Until he can get back on his feet. Can you help me with that, George?”
“Aye-aye, ma’am,” he replies playfully. “My daughter works at a real estate agency. We can call her.”
I lightly smack his shoulder. “There we go, George! Working as a team already.”
45
Ezra
I come back home to an unfamiliar smell. Cooking. Someone is cooking in my virgin kitchen. And singing. The off-key voice makes me pause—the sound bringing me back to the island when Maeve sang at the top of her lungs as I fetched papayas for her.
Carefully padding toward the sound, I try not to spook my pink-haired canary who doesn’t hear a thing because she’s wearing headphones while dancing around my—our—kitchen barefoot, wearing a white T-shirt (mine) and black panties with a yellow smiley face on her ass. Her wild hair, still wet from the shower, is piled on top of her head.
Leaning my shoulder on the wall, I try to enjoy the view for as long as I’m allowed. I’ve never had a woman in my place besides my mom. And seeing Maeve feeling so comfortable around here does some odd things to me.
She’s trying to sing a high note when I can’t take itanymore and start laughing. She jumps on the spot, dropping a spoon on the floor.
“Fucking hell!” Her small hand clutches her chest, lifting the shirt higher and revealing her very enticing legs. “You scared the living crap out of me.”
I make my eyes refocus on her face. “You’ve done the same to all the neighbors with your singing.”
Her eyes narrow viciously. “I will not apologize for having fun.”
“As you shouldn’t.” I walk toward her, watching her reaction. I’m unsure where we stand after her visit to my office, even though I have hope. She tilts her head to the side, curiously watching what I’ll do next. I’m curious too because it’s new territory for me. “I’ll be downstairs so you can enjoy yourself.”
She clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “I thought this building was yours.”
“Not this one.” I smile back, walking up to her. “But if you burn this building down too, I might have a chance at buying the land and putting mine here. What do you think? Will you help me?”
She laughs, throwing her head back. A tiny birthmark under her chin makes an appearance for the first time, and I wonder how I haven’t noticed it before.
“I just might. Ask me in the morning again before I have my coffee.” Her eyes are playful, her posture relaxed.
And I go for it.
Wrapping my arms around her back, I pull her to me. Her arms follow the cue to do the same. She feels perfect just like that, with her squished to my stomach.
“What are you making?” I ask, suddenly feeling out of place but eager to learn the rules.
“Noodles,” she replies with a wide smile.
“Noodles?”
“Noodles,” she confirms with a nod. “When we were on the island, this was all I was dreaming about.”
“Not a steak? Or even a burger?”
“Nope.” A shake of her head. “Noodles. For the past five years, I couldn’t afford steak. Or even a burger at times. So noodles were my comfort food.” Then she adds with a giggle, “Or any food sometimes.”
