I popped my new clothes in the washing machine and dryer. When I came back to the room, holding a hamper of my newly-washed clothes in my arms, I found Nicholas in the room. He was fixing something in the mirrors, which turned out to be built-in cabinets.
“What’s up, roomie?” I asked in a teasing tone.
“Oh, good you’re here,” he said. He pressed one of the mirrors, and it opened smoothly, revealing the closet inside. It was empty. “I’ve cleared this so you can put your stuff in here. If later you don’t find the space sufficient, you can let me know.”
How very thoughtful of him. I wanted to argue that it wasn’t necessary, but I knew that it was, and I was thankful that he was sensitive enough to know this.
“Wow,” I said under my breath.
“You’re welcome.” Then he fished something in his pocket. He handed me a gold-colored smartphone. It looked brand-new. “You can use this.”
“What’s this?” I asked.
His eyes widened, as if in shock. “You haven’t seen a smartphone before?”
I rolled my eyes. “I know it’s a phone. I just wanna know why you’re giving me a phone.”
He pretended to look shocked again. “You don’t know what a smartphone does?” I gave him a playful jab against his tummy. “Hey!” he yelped. “When will you stop being violent with me? You know, you’ve hit me more than anybody I have met in my entire life.”
“I’m just not as tolerant as the rest of the people you’ve met.”
“Actually, I’m just not as tolerant with them as I am with you,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing. Anyway, I know you didn’t have your phone with you,” he said. “So, you can borrow mine. This is a spare; I never used it. I already saved my number there.”
I looked at the sleek phone he handed me. I pressed number one on the dial pad, and Nicholas’ number appeared on the screen. I raised a brow at him. “Seriously? Speed dial one?”
He grinned. “Since you do not intend to go to the police and you don’t want to tell Brett what happened, I think that currently, I’m your only emergency hotline.”
“And Nicholas Atkins saves yet another day!” I said in a sarcastic tone.
“Well, you know me. Superhero complex, remember?” When I looked at him, he was actually blushing.
This guy can be cute sometimes. He appeared so full of himself, but since I arrived at his house, I’ve seen him unsure of himself more than once. He just tried to cover it up with jokes and arrogance.
In the looks department, Nicholas was at the top of the list, no doubt about that, with his dark brown hair and light brown, mesmerizing eyes, angular jaw, strong chin, sensual lips, and flawless skin. His body was not Arnold Schwarzenegger-big, but he had broad shoulders and well-toned muscles. He towered me by at least a foot, and my frame looked so tiny standing next to him.
Looking up at him, with only about three feet gap between us, I finally saw where Jen, Saucy, and all those other girls were coming from. Nicholas Atkins was insanely hot! But I doubted those girls knew that inside this devilishly beautiful guy was a heart and soul of an angel. I knew that. Disregarding his playboy reputation and tough, cold demeanor, Nicholas was the epitome of sensitivity and compassion.
I didn’t realize that we were looking into each other’s eyes for a full two minutes without speaking until I felt him touch my lip. I snapped back to reality and took a step back.
“I bought a cream for your lip,” he said.
“You… I… it’s… what?” My thoughts were in total disarray. I was taking time to compose myself.
Wow! That had never happened to me before.
He stared at me as if I was out of my mind. Then he said, “We should put an ointment on your lip.” He walked to the door. “I’ll be right back.”
When he was gone, I took a few deep breaths. What the hell was happening to me?
Good job, Ken Clarke!
I almost got raped, an unfortunate incident that would usually cause a girl to hate all men from that moment forward. And yet, here I was, getting tongue-tied and starstruck while staring at the face of the guy who rescued me and offered me nothing but kindness and protection.
How easily did Nicholas Atkins sway my opinion of men? I could feel myself slowly trusting him in the brief period I had met him, while my father did nothing but destroy my opinion of the whole male species in the six years that I had known him.
Nicholas came back holding a small tube in his hand. I held my hand out to take it, but he ignored me. He opened the tube, squeezed the yellowish ointment out of it, and gently dabbed it on the wound on my lip.
“Ish thad shayf?” I asked without moving my lip.
“What?” he asked.
I pulled my head back. “I said, is that safe?” I asked again, snatching the tube from him. I read the label. It was an antimicrobial balm.
“It’s even edible,” he said.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
There was that uncomfortable silence again. When I looked up, Nicholas was looking at me seriously.
“Something on my face?” I asked, swallowing hard to steady my wild pulse.
He nodded. “Yes. A bruise and a cut on your lip.”
Right!
“I’ll live,” I said in a flat tone. I looked at the clock. “I think it’s time for me to cook dinner.”
He raised a brow. “You sure you can cook?”
“If you don’t like the food, I’ll move out tonight,” I said, my voice full of challenge.
He laughed. “You got my hands tied. If it would keep you from leaving the house, I’d sing praises for your culinary skills even if I could barely eat what you cooked.” I gave him another jab to the abdomen. “Ouch! Mackenzie Belle! Someday, I will get you for all the beating you’re giving me.”
“If you live to see the day, that is.” I grinned at him. Then I walked toward the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen!”
Knowing that it was the first time Nicholas would witness my cooking skills, I suddenly felt pressured. I didn’t mind what Brett would think. But somehow, I wanted to impress Nicholas. Well, it was the least I could do for all the help that he’d given me so far. Cooking for him, even if I had to do it every day, would be a small thing to do in return for his kindness.
I decided to cook beef medallions with mushroom and garlic sauce. Then I sautéed some vegetables in olive oil and made a chocolate mug cake for dessert. Just as I was about to finish, Nicholas appeared in the kitchen.
“My God, if that tasted as good as it smelled, I would be singing you praises all night,” he said. He sat on one of the bar stools. “Ready yet? I’m starving.”
“Five minutes,” I said.
Nicholas stood up and helped me set the table. After five minutes, I was sitting opposite him as he dug into the beef medallions I cooked. I held my breath as he put a piece in his mouth. First taste, he closed his eyes.
“What?” I asked as he stared at me in awe.
“Mackenzie Belle Clarke,” he said. “Are you for real?”
“What?”
“This is, by far, the best beef medallions I had ever tasted in my entire life.” He took another piece in his mouth.
“Didn’t you say that even if you weren’t impressed, you’d sing me praises just to keep me in the house?”
He shook his head. “Well, that was when I doubted you could cook. But heck, you can cook! Now, I want to keep you in the house just so you can keep cooking for me.”
I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from smiling widely. I was genuinely proud of myself.
Nicholas finished all the food I served him. He was smiling from ear to ear, completely happy as if he hadn’t had good food until tonight.
“I made some dessert.”
“Let’s have it outside.”
“Go ahead, I’ll make us some tea.”
“I’ll help you,” he said. He stood up from his seat and took the teacups from the top cupboards.
I made green tea with mint leaves. Then I took out two mugs of the chocolate cake from the fridge.
“In the short span of time I left you in the kitchen, you managed to prepare all that food and bake a cake?” Nicholas asked.
“It’s microwave cake. No fuss.”
“You should be a chef. I’ve never met anybody this organized and this efficient in the kitchen and make heavenly food at the same time.”
“That’s what Brett always said to me.”
Nicholas settled the tray on the table on the patio. I poured tea on each of our teacups.
“Why did you take up psychology? I mean, it’s an excellent profession. You get paid listening to people whine about their problems.” He chuckled. “Do you like doing that? You’d probably be happier being a chef in your own restaurant.”
I shrugged. The only reason I majored in psychology was because of Jen. And now that we’ve gone our separate ways, I honestly didn’t know what I was thinking at that time. Now, I had no freaking idea what I was going to do with my life. And it was too late to back out now. I’m less than two months from getting my degree—with freaking honors! Such a waste!
Suddenly, I remembered what Nicholas told me a couple of weeks ago at Rythemes:
”Your likes and wants may be dictated by the needs of the people around you. And you act accordingly…”
”You do not want attention for yourself, but you can’t resist someone who genuinely demands yours because it doesn’t give you a choice to think about what you want.”
Damn! He got that one right! What an excellent judge of character he was. He’d make a better shrink than I would ever be. I was good with theories because I memorized every book there was about psychology. But deep down, I knew that I was crap at judging people. I was never good at talking to people, too. I didn’t care whether my words would offend them or not. I just didn’t give a damn.
Do I really want to spend my life listening to other people talk about their problems?
Nicholas was looking at me thoughtfully. “I think I have an idea why you took up psychology.”
I raised a brow at him. “Seriously?”
He took a deep breath. “You would really do anything to help her? I mean, there are others who are far more deserving of your attention.”
“Weren’t you hung on her, too?” I asked evenly.
Nicholas bit his lip and went quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “She’s pretty. Many guys would be attracted to her at first sight.”
“Like you?”
“I’ve known her when we were younger. She’s cute. But, well, let’s just say that in all my twenty-five years, I’ve only been attracted to one girl at first sight. And I can assure you, it’s not Jennifer Gracie. I’m more of a looking-deep-into-the-personality type of guy.”
“So you got attracted to her after you’ve looked into her personality?” Which, in my opinion, was not great after all, now that I saw Jen in a different light.
Nicholas sighed as if in frustration. Then he said, “Well, she is pretty. But she’s fragile. And I’m not looking for something I would easily break if I accidentally do something stupid.”
Wait, what?
He knew Jen’s condition? I thought I was the only one who realized that! Even Jen and her parents were in denial about this.
“How did you know?”
“I told you I was an excellent judge of people. That’s my curse.”
“It’s a gift.”
He shook his head. “When you see through people, and you’re usually right, it’s hard for you to give them a chance to prove you wrong. Makes it difficult for you to trust them. On the other hand, if you choose to trust the good in people and you’re proven wrong, it’s harder to accept. Makes betrayal ten times worse.”
I sighed. “You were right about me, though. I do not trust easily, and I’ve made choices in life thinking more about what other people around me wanted instead of asking myself what I wanted.”
“It’s not too late to change that, kitten,” he said. “You’re on neutral grounds now. You don’t live in your house anymore. You live in mine. And here, you can be anything you want to be. I won’t ask you to be anything else.”
I nodded and gave him a small smile. I reached my hand forward reluctantly. I wanted to touch him, but I wasn’t sure how to do it and how he would take it. I have never shown affection for anybody. But somehow, now, I felt as though touching Nicholas would make my gratitude more sincere.
To my surprise, Nicholas seemed to know what I wanted to do. He reached his hand halfway, meeting mine as if he wasn’t giving me a chance to back out. He took my hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. When I looked into his eyes, he smiled and said, “Whatever, right?”