Read Online Beneath the Surface by Melynda Price - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melynda Price
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grin over his shoulder as he set the pan on the stove. “Or maybe not . . .”
“Okaaay . . . enough of the underwear jokes, huh?”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll take you into town this afternoon so you can get some more clothes and whatever else it is that women need.” He stepped over to the sink and washed his hands. “Hand me that bread over there, will ya?”
Quinn got up and lifted the slider door. “Jeez, you’ve got a gun in here too?” Grabbing the loaf, she carried it over to him as he finished drying his hands.
“You never know when a man’s going to have to protect his twelve grain.”
Okay, that was funny. Quinn laughed. She couldn’t help herself. If she wasn’t careful, she might start to find this man charming. “Or . . . when some crazy woman will show up on your doorstep begging you to help her.”
He fixed her with that multihued stare. This man really was too handsome for his own good. It didn’t help matters that he was standing here half-naked. Though admittedly, her experience with men was limited—she’d never seen one in the flesh before with this hard of a body. The thought crossed her mind for the briefest moment—what would it feel like to be taken by a man like Asher Tate?—possessed by him?—dominated by him?
All right, she must be suffering from PTSD or something, because she should definitely not be thinking about him like that.
“You’re not crazy, Quinn. A little odd, maybe . . .” His lips curled in a teasing grin, giving her a flash of straight white teeth. “But definitely not crazy.”
She gasped in mock outrage and playfully punched him in the shoulder. It was like hitting a brick.
“My culinary skills leave something to be desired,” he warned, taking the twist tie off the bag and pulling out a stack of bread. “I’ve lived on MREs for years and I hate cooking, so if you want anything fancier than a grilled cheese, you’re going to have to make it yourself.”
He gave her his back and began buttering the slices, then slapped them down on the pan.
“Grilled cheese is fine. Thank you. Do you have any fruit I can cut up?”
“It’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”
She pulled the door open and was surprised to find the refrigerator reasonably well stocked, and with healthy options. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have a body like that living on junk food—no Twinkies and Ho Hos for this guy. She pulled a few peaches out of the produce drawer and set them on the counter. He handed her a plate from the cupboard above him as she retrieved a knife from the block. “Thanks. I didn’t know you had horses.”
“Yeah, two. I grew up on a horse farm. My parents live about a half hour into the mountains. Horses come in handy around here. You ride?”
“Me?” She looked up from the peach she was peeling. “No. There’s not much of an opportunity to go horseback riding in Manhattan.”
“You like it there? In Manhattan?”
“Not especially. But then I haven’t really thought of it as home since—” She caught herself before Spencer’s name left her lips. “Well, in a long time, anyway. I’ve been traveling for the last two years so I haven’t been there a lot. That’s why I got a roommate.”
Her chest tightened at the thought of Emily, a sharp ache reminding her that although she may be far from the city, the memories were just a moment away. She didn’t finish what she was saying. It didn’t matter and she wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore. If Asher noticed her discomfort, he ignored it. She returned to her task, focusing intently on cutting the peaches.
They settled into companionable silence after that and she helped him finish making lunch. It was nice—surprisingly amiable. She should have known it wouldn’t last.
CHAPTER
7
A sher studied the woman sitting across from him, eating her grilled cheese and peaches in contemplative silence. He suspected she was thinking about her roommate and wanted to
“Okaaay . . . enough of the underwear jokes, huh?”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll take you into town this afternoon so you can get some more clothes and whatever else it is that women need.” He stepped over to the sink and washed his hands. “Hand me that bread over there, will ya?”
Quinn got up and lifted the slider door. “Jeez, you’ve got a gun in here too?” Grabbing the loaf, she carried it over to him as he finished drying his hands.
“You never know when a man’s going to have to protect his twelve grain.”
Okay, that was funny. Quinn laughed. She couldn’t help herself. If she wasn’t careful, she might start to find this man charming. “Or . . . when some crazy woman will show up on your doorstep begging you to help her.”
He fixed her with that multihued stare. This man really was too handsome for his own good. It didn’t help matters that he was standing here half-naked. Though admittedly, her experience with men was limited—she’d never seen one in the flesh before with this hard of a body. The thought crossed her mind for the briefest moment—what would it feel like to be taken by a man like Asher Tate?—possessed by him?—dominated by him?
All right, she must be suffering from PTSD or something, because she should definitely not be thinking about him like that.
“You’re not crazy, Quinn. A little odd, maybe . . .” His lips curled in a teasing grin, giving her a flash of straight white teeth. “But definitely not crazy.”
She gasped in mock outrage and playfully punched him in the shoulder. It was like hitting a brick.
“My culinary skills leave something to be desired,” he warned, taking the twist tie off the bag and pulling out a stack of bread. “I’ve lived on MREs for years and I hate cooking, so if you want anything fancier than a grilled cheese, you’re going to have to make it yourself.”
He gave her his back and began buttering the slices, then slapped them down on the pan.
“Grilled cheese is fine. Thank you. Do you have any fruit I can cut up?”
“It’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”
She pulled the door open and was surprised to find the refrigerator reasonably well stocked, and with healthy options. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have a body like that living on junk food—no Twinkies and Ho Hos for this guy. She pulled a few peaches out of the produce drawer and set them on the counter. He handed her a plate from the cupboard above him as she retrieved a knife from the block. “Thanks. I didn’t know you had horses.”
“Yeah, two. I grew up on a horse farm. My parents live about a half hour into the mountains. Horses come in handy around here. You ride?”
“Me?” She looked up from the peach she was peeling. “No. There’s not much of an opportunity to go horseback riding in Manhattan.”
“You like it there? In Manhattan?”
“Not especially. But then I haven’t really thought of it as home since—” She caught herself before Spencer’s name left her lips. “Well, in a long time, anyway. I’ve been traveling for the last two years so I haven’t been there a lot. That’s why I got a roommate.”
Her chest tightened at the thought of Emily, a sharp ache reminding her that although she may be far from the city, the memories were just a moment away. She didn’t finish what she was saying. It didn’t matter and she wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore. If Asher noticed her discomfort, he ignored it. She returned to her task, focusing intently on cutting the peaches.
They settled into companionable silence after that and she helped him finish making lunch. It was nice—surprisingly amiable. She should have known it wouldn’t last.
CHAPTER
7
A sher studied the woman sitting across from him, eating her grilled cheese and peaches in contemplative silence. He suspected she was thinking about her roommate and wanted to
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