I drew in shaky breath. “Did you make the soup?”
Nick nodded once more.
“Oh. I . . .” I couldn’t believe he had brought me soup, let alone taken the time to make it himself. All of this was so incredibly sweet and extremely unexpected; I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, staring at him like an idiot.
The hollows under his high cheekbones turned pink. “It’s not that hard.”
“I don’t know how to make chicken soup from scratch.”
A small smiled pulled at his striking features. “Maybe I’ll teach you one day.”
“You really made me soup?”
The smile spread as he ducked his chin. “Yeah, I did. You going to sit and eat it? I promise it will make your stomach feel better.”
In a daze, I shuffled over to the table. My stomach was twisting again, but it had nothing to do with the nausea I’d felt earlier in the day. I sat at the table, and honest to God, I was moved to the point where I wasn’t even thinking of his douchey behavior in the bar.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice strangely hoarse. “I mean it. Thank you.”
“It’s no biggie.” He handed over a spoon. “Eat up.”
My fingers brushed his as I took the spoon. The shiver that raced up my arm was hard to ignore as I scooped up some noodles, steaming broth, and a chunk of chicken. My taste buds practically orgasmed. “It’s delicious.” I glanced up, my eyes wide. “I can taste something kind of minty.”
Nick folded his arms. “You look so surprised. I’m actually a damn good cook.”
“I am not doubting that now.” I swallowed another mouthful, biting back a moan.
His lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. “I thought I could bring it by before I headed up to Reece’s. I’m a little early, but he’ll be okay—”
“You don’t have to leave,” I said in a rush, and then felt the tips of my ears burning. “I mean, if you want to hang out here for a little bit, you can.”
Nick’s eyes met mine and then lowered as he slid onto the seat across from me. He rested his arms on the table. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. The nausea settled this afternoon, but this soup is really helping.” I was eating like I hadn’t been fed in days. “You didn’t bring some for yourself?”
“What’s left in the container is yours. I ate earlier.” He leaned back in the small dining chair, exhaling softly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
I paused long enough to smile and then I finished off the bowl. Standing, I carried it to the sink, washed the bowl out, and then placed it in the dishwasher. Turning around, my breath caught in my throat.
Nick had gotten up and followed me, moving so quietly that I hadn’t heard him. He was only a foot away, and if I moved a little to my right, we’d be in the same positions we’d been in that night.
My stomach hollowed in response. I so needed to stop thinking about that, but once I did, my brain latched on. My chest rose sharply. I could practically feel his hands on my sides, my hips . . . between my legs. God, was it hot in here? I tugged on the neckline of my sweater. I so needed to get my hormones under control. This was ridiculous.
But when I looked up, our gazes collided and I couldn’t look away. Heat swamped my senses, and my overactive imagination flooded me with memories of how he’d felt pressed against my back, him inside me, stretching me.
Nick tilted his head to the side, his gaze hooded as he changed his stance, spreading his legs. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said, voice gruff.
I blinked. “I’m not looking at you.”
His lips quirked up. “Besides the fact you’re looking right at me, you’re looking at me in that way.”
Some of the heat had faded, but not nearly enough to make me stop thinking about what we’d done in this kitchen. “In what way am I looking at you?”
“Like you want a repeat of that night.”
Damn. He freaking nailed it right on the head. I didn’t say anything as I crossed my arms under my chest, but I stiffened as he took a step forward. A half foot separated us.
“And you really need to stop,” he said again, his voice low as he lifted his hand, catching the strand of my hair that had fallen loose and tucking it back behind my ear. His knuckles brushed over my cheek. “Because I’m trying to be cool over here.” He lowered his hand. “I’m trying something different.”
“What are you trying?” I asked.
Those amazing lashes lifted once more and his stare pierced me. “I’m trying to be friends with you.”
Chapter 10
What Nick had said was like being dunked with ice water and then shoved into a walk-in freezer. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to be friends with me, and I was assuming the kind of friend that didn’t have sex, but it sounded like he’d never been friends with a girl before.
And that didn’t make sense.
There was Roxy, and there had to be other girls he’d been close to that he hadn’t banged. Had to be. Wasn’t there? Then again, Roxy had said something about Nick not having a lot of friends. And there was the whole weird Calla thing.
“You aren’t friends with girls?” I asked, speaking slowly.
“No. Not really.” He paused as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “With the exception of Roxy, but I don’t think we’re really friends.”
“She thinks you are.”
His brows lifted, as if he were surprised. “Huh.”