Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(37)

“You say that a lot,” he said, holding the door open a little wider.

It was an invitation.

“Say what?” I asked, clasping my hands in front of my chest.

He turned away from the door, leaving it ajar for me as he walked into the kitchen.

“You ‘don’t care’.” He threw the words over his shoulder as he pulled open a drawer and grabbed a fork.

I stood on the porch for another second as he took his first bite of the food I’d offered. His head bobbed in approval and the appreciation settled like an anchor in my stomach. Why did I want to impress him? Prove to him that I was more than what he saw?

I fidgeted in place, glancing back to the guesthouse and wondering what the girls would think if I disappeared inside Erik’s house.

“Shut the door before the bugs get in,” he said. “I’ve already got enough tenants to deal with.”

The command spurred my body into action before I’d even made up my mind. I stepped into his house with a long inhale and then turned to shut the door. The ominous sound of it settling in place released a swarm of butterflies inside my stomach. The last time I’d been there he had pressed me up against that door, yelling at me for ruining his date. There’d been anger in his eyes then, but when I met his gaze over the kitchen island, there was something new: curiosity.

His attention swept down my body as he took another bite of the omelet.

“This is good,” he said.

He’d nearly scarfed down half of it already. I smiled and walked closer, taking a seat across the wide island. With him on one side and me on the other, I felt some semblance of safety. It was an illusion, but I tried not to fight it. I liked the way the granite felt between us. Stone was as strong a barrier as any.

“It’s not fancy or anything.” I shrugged.

He nodded and peered up at me from over his plate. “What do you care about?” he asked.

I scrunched my brows, confused.

“You like everyone to think you don’t care about anything,” he continued, going back to our earlier conversation. “So I’m curious, what do you care about?”

I gripped the edge of the island and tilted back in my chair. “Umm…” My gaze flitted around his kitchen, trying to think up an answer that didn’t sound like a cliché dating profile. “I like baking and running.”

He nodded, swallowing down another bite. “I already know that.”

I glanced back to him. His gaze was on me, eyes narrowed, dark brows drawn together in concentration.

“Why does it feel like you’re, I don’t know, gathering intel on an enemy? Are you going to use this against me the next time we fight?”

His features relaxed slightly. The edge of his mouth tipped up in a seductive smirk and he dragged his gaze across my bare neck and down to the top of my chest. My skin heated under his casual perusal. “You’re not my enemy.”

I swallowed slowly and hoped my next words didn’t come out shaky. “Honestly, I don’t have much in my life I care about outside gymnastics.”

“Your family?”

Family was an exaggeration. Can two people be called a family? We were a duo, a pair—hardly a family. Erik’s gaze met mine across the island and I stilled at the intrusion. His blue eyes were searching, trying to see past my facade and dig out my insides. When he looked at me like that, I had an unexplainable urge to back up, to hold him at arm’s length and ensure he didn’t get any closer…but then I realized that though it felt like it, he couldn’t read my mind. He couldn’t know how much he affected me, so I eased the tension in my shoulders and answered him on my terms.

“My mom is great. She gave up a lot so I could compete when I was younger.”

“And your dad?”

My instincts told me he knew more, but then I reminded myself it was a simple question. Most people have two parents.

“I never knew him.”

I didn’t need to elaborate. There really wasn’t more to say; I didn’t miss someone I’d never met.

“What about friends?” he asked, sensing my desire to move on from the subject.

I tilted my head toward the guesthouse and offered a small smile. “You’re already familiar with them.”

He nodded and tossed his fork in the sink. It rattled against the shiny stainless steel.

“And boyfriends?” His voice was rough, like sandpaper against my nerves. “What about them?”

I laughed, thinking he was making a joke, but when I met his gaze over the island, my breath caught in my throat. He was serious. Dead serious. He had his hands propped up on the granite counter, and he was leaning closer, studying me. It felt like a game even then. He was baiting me, daring me.

I blushed and glanced away. “I’ve had a few.”

I could see his faint smile out of the corner of my eyes.

“Yeah? Did they last long?”

“A few months. Nothing serious.”

I was answering like a suspect in a cross-examination, as if my attorneys had counseled me to offer no more information than was necessary.

His expression told me he thought I was bluffing.

“I know it must shock you,” I continued, glaring back at him. “But some men actually find me attractive.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” he replied, no hint of sarcasm in his tone. “So why don’t those men last?”