Chapter 6

Adopting Anya’s routine, the first thing I did when I rose was pray for my brother’s speedy recovery. Bishop looked like he was at peace, but we were in turmoil out here waiting for him to come back around. I also prayed for Anya’s protection and that she continued to understand the importance of her assignment. Her care and concern would play a huge part in Bishop’s recovery.

Seeing how well she cared for Bishop and the pride she took in her work gave me a new level of respect for her. I would never be able to thank her enough for taking such good care of my brother. My family was all I had. Knowing that she was so attentive to him, even though she didn’t know him from a can of paint, gave her a special place in my heart. Little things like that were the reason that I was so drawn to her.

After a blunt and smelling whatever Anya was cooking my stomach was in a frenzy. She didn’t cook yesterday, so I had to have Joe to go grab us a pizza before he came on duty. At this point I was starving. I hadn’t eaten since last night, and it was going on one in the afternoon.

It was crazy that I was getting used to Anya’s cooking. I knew that whenever Bishop woke up, she wouldn’t be here anymore, but for now, I was loving it. As annoying as her presence was, the girl could burn. I hadn’t had a good home-cooked meal since my aunt had passed, so I was in heaven.

About an hour passed since I heard the stove beeping, and I hadn’t gotten a message from Anya to let me know she was done cooking. Whatever she was making was taking a hell of a long time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Anya leaving the kitchen with a plate in her hand. It was unusual for her to eat in Bishop’s room, but I guess she was getting more comfortable here. It had almost been a few weeks since she’d gotten here.

I stood up and walked into the kitchen. I found it strange that the kitchen smelled like melons more than it actually smelled like food. I had no idea what kind of soap or body wash that girl used, but it drove me crazy. I wasn’t about to make her job harder by being a creep and asking.

I was still avoiding her like hell. She made me uncomfortable. I was used to being around beautiful women and being able to control myself. Something about her made me ravenous. I wasn’t just starving for the food. I was hungry for her ass.

Seeing Anya strutting around in those scrubs made me feel like the biggest creep to ever live. No matter how deep I buried myself in perfecting my upcoming game, she tugged at my attention like a puppeteer. Everything she did intrigued me. Every move she made caught my eye. Anya was effortlessly sexy.

Who the fuck lusted after someone dressed in scrubs? I didn’t lust. When I wanted a woman, I either fucked her or I didn’t. Either way, I left it alone. Anya felt off-limits, so I couldn’t cross that line.

I didn’t know a damn thing about her other than she was a nurse and had a complicated relationship with whoever she was always arguing with on the phone. For all I knew, the woman was married. It wasn’t my business. I learned to observe and mind my business long ago.

All I knew in the moment was that I was hungry as hell. As I looked around the kitchen, I noticed that there was no sign that Anya had cooked. There were no pots and pans on the stove and no dishes in the sink. I knew damn well I had smelled food cooking. Hell, I had just seen her with a plate.

Turning and leaving the kitchen, I headed to Bishop’s bedroom to see if my mind was playing tricks on me. Not that Anya was obligated to feed me, but damn, she usually did. In just a short period of time, her ass had me spoiled.

“I thought you were cooking,” I said as I walked into the room. Seeing her going to work on what looked like a fried pork chop sandwich and curly fries confirmed that I hadn’t lost my mind. Her lack of response to my question made me question my sanity all over again. “Anya!”

“Hm?” She didn’t even bother to look my way.

“Where is the rest of the food?”

“Oh, now you can talk?” She sneered.

“The fuck does that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re a rude, inconsiderate asshole. For a whole week, I cooked for you, and you didn’t even have the decency to say thank you. I’m not even sure that you like my cooking because you can’t even open your mouth to acknowledge my presence. Not only that, but after you scarf down the food like the dog you are, you leave your dishes in the sink for me to wash. I’m Bishop’s nurse. I’m not your chef, and I’m damn sure not your fucking maid!” she said before turning her attention back to her food and the TV as if I wasn’t standing right there.

I was so taken aback that I walked out of the room and straight out to the porch to finish smoking my blunt. My chest was tight. My head was swimming as I plopped down in a rocking chair. I hadn’t meant to be an asshole. Well, naturally, I was an asshole, but it was never my intention to mistreat her.

I thought by staying out of her way, I was doing what was best for both of us. I hit my blunt a few times and walked back into the house. I saw Anya standing at the sink, washing her dishes. Giving in to the magnetic force drawing me to her, I headed straight to the kitchen. Either she was ignoring the hell out of me or she didn’t notice me until I was close enough to put my hand on her shoulder and spin her around.

Her mouth fell open in surprise when I turned her to face me. I didn’t miss a beat before I crashed my lips into hers. She was as sweet as I dreamed she would be. All the anxiety that tightened my chest floated away when she cuffed my face and kissed me like both our lives depended on it.

“Why do you hate me?” she whispered. Her eyes drifted away from my face, and I dropped my forehead against her temple.

“Because you’re such a fucking distraction,” I confessed.

“What?” she asked as I moved my lips to kiss my way down her neck. I felt like I was floating as she wrapped her fingers around my neck. Fuck, she smelled so good.

“I’ve never felt distracted the way I do when you’re around. I need to be finding out who tried to kill my brother, not thinking about you. Usually, I’m in my own world. When you’re in my presence, I want to be in your world. I want you to be my world.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us.”