CHAPTER ELEVEN

TIMBER

When I finished my shower and stepped out to see Lindy standing in the kitchen making breakfast, shock coursed through me. I wasn't sure what to make of the scene, especially since shame battered my insides after jerking off to thoughts of her.

In my experience, whenever someone does something nice for me, they always expect repayment, but Lindy doesn't need anything from me.

Except your cock.

After slamming the door on that unhelpful thought, I'd watched as she mixed something in a bowl, giving a frustrated sigh every time she had to stop to push up the too-big sleeves of her hoodie. An unfamiliar feeling had unfurled inside me—a healing warmth.

In my messed up life, no one has ever made me breakfast. And how pathetic is that? Sure, the biker bunnies who hang out at the clubhouse will sometimes make a huge communal breakfast, but it's not specifically for me.

Not like this.

My drunken uncle relied on a steady diet of alcohol, so I was always left to my own devices. I grew up malnourished and skinny, until I learned the art of stealing. As soon as I figured out how to grab a loaf of bread here or a bottle of orange juice there, the constant hunger had been kept at bay.

It's a miracle I made it to eighteen without a criminal record and was able to join the army, which quickly straightened me out. Of course, it helped that I had three regular meals a day.

Breakfast is a quiet affair due to the swirl of emotions knotting my gut. It's like I've forgotten how to act around Lindy. Or at least how to talk to her.

Not that we've spent a ton of time engaging in small talk when I'm not much for long conversations in the first place.

But actions speak louder than words, right?

And it's always been easier for me to act.

"I'll wash the dishes." Gathering our empty plates and cups, I stride toward the kitchen sink, grateful for a task to occupy my hands—one that doesn't involve testing the silkiness of Lindy's skin.

"I can help. It's not like there's much to do," she chirps.

"Which means I can handle it myself. You cooked, so I'll clean. If you haven't already, why don't you let your friends know that we'll be back in Suitor's Crossing soon?"

Her eyes narrow at my abrupt tone, and I instantly want to apologize for my gruffness. I'm not upset with her. I'm frustrated with myself.

"Alright…" She slowly nods, staying at the dining table while I scrub our plates.

Fifteen minutes later, I lock up the apartment, and we start the journey home. Lindy rolls her window down, negating the ability to chat, which I'm thankful for. Besides, autumn is upon us, and the crisp chill is a welcome balm to my frayed nerves.

Frayed nerves , I inwardly scoff. I sound like a Victorian spinster calling for her smelling salts. That's the last time I stay to watch a movie with the guys and their women.

Once we're at Lindy's cabin, I walk her to the front door, gravel crunching beneath our feet.

A bright spot of yellow catches my eye. Flower petals. A few are trapped between the welcome mat and porch. The florist refused to share anything about the person who sent the bouquet when I visited, so I still have no clue who else is interested in my girl.

But the reminder of Lindy's secret admirer prompts me to do the dumbest thing of my life.

"Would you have dinner with me?" I ask, shoving a hand in my back pocket.

Her terrified face is answer enough.

Of course.

No way would she go out with me. Not after the horrible evening she had. Not after her abusive ex.

Lindy probably won't be ready to date for a long time yet.

I don't know what the hell I was thinking—letting a few flower petals make me jealous—because my timing fucking sucks.

"You're right. Nevermind, sorry I asked," I mutter, turning away.

Stupid, fucking idiot, delusional…

"Wait!" Lindy grabs my arm. "Dinner would be nice." Her shy smile causes a tiny ray of hope to bloom inside me.

"Would it? Because I saw your face when I asked. It's hard to mask that kind of reaction. Don't say yes out of obligation. It's okay to say no."

I never want to force Lindy into anything.

Heat flushes her cheeks. "Sorry about that. It just came out of nowhere. I wasn't expecting you to ask me out, and when you did, I didn't know how to react. That's what you saw on my face." Her eyes close as she tilts her head upward then looks back at me with embarrassment. "I'm not used to it."

"Used to what?"

Lindy's discomfort increases as she looks anywhere but me. "Being asked out. Going on dates."

Bewilderment fills my mind. How is that even possible? She's a perfect match for some boy next door. She's sexy and smart, kind and adorable. Who could resist that?

I stare at Lindy, lost for words.

"I know. I'm weird. You're the first man to ask me out since Dean, but even before him, I never really dated much."

"You're not weird. Everyone else is apparently blind and stupid. Does tomorrow night work for you?" That might be too soon, but I don't want to waste any more time. She's giving me a chance, and I'm not going to blow it.

"Perfect," she agrees, smiling in relief.

"I'll pick you up at six tomorrow."

Then I leave with a fucking bounce in my step. Happy. I can't remember the last time I truly felt that way.