Page 37 of Auctioned to the Devil

He doesn’t turn.

“How did you know I was here?”

“You stomp.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

I slide onto a stool.

A mug appears in front of me.

I take a sip and moan softly.

He flinches but doesn’t turn, just flips bacon in the skillet.

Something about seeing this gorgeous, bear of a man being so domestic unsettles me more than it should.

I look away.

My flashlight sits on the counter.

The broken flashlight I tossed into my bag last night.

I pick it up and click the button.

Bright light floods the kitchen.

“You fixed this.”

“Loose contact.”

“You went through my bag?”

“No.”

“It was inside my bag.”

“It fell out when I carried it upstairs.”

“And you just happened to fix it?”

“Took two minutes.”

I study him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That face isn’t nothing.”

“I’m trying to figure you out.”

“Don’t.”

“Why?”