Read Online Bodychecking by Jami Davenport - Free Book Online Page B

lavender overstuffed sofas and chairs in a flower print. His chrome-and-glass table had been exchanged for a round oak table. One of his walls had been painted some weird shade of light green and his favorite recliner had been replaced by a rocking chair. His abstract paintings were now pastoral scenes. At least his big flat-screen still existed.
    What the fuck?
    He’d never be able to invite the boys over again.
    Bella hurried down the hall, a nervous smile on her face. Instead of a hug, she hung back. “Welcome home.” She wrung her hands together. Her nervousness made him forget the state of his home.
    “Uh, yeah, thanks. I see you’ve been—uh—busy.” He wanted to hug her, wrap her in his arms and erase the worry from her face. Yet something in her expression warned him to proceed with caution. He approached her carefully, glad to see she held her ground and didn’t shrink away from him.
    “Do you like it?” She gazed up at him with an uncertain smile, which ripped his heart out. He couldn’t hurt her feelings.
    “I love it.” He faked his enthusiasm, calling on every last bit of charm and acting talent he possessed. “It’s so, uh, homey.”
    “You do?” Her face lit up, making him grin. She could paint his entire house pink if it made her smile like that. This was all good and proof she’d moved in for the long term, which had been what he’d wanted.
    Bella needed to feel safe; if nesting in his house made her feel more secure, who was he to question her methods? So what if it made him a little uncomfortable to see his neat, predominantly beige house turned into a messy pastel haven with less-than-manly colors? So what if he had to live in girlie hell? It was a small price to pay.
    “Is this the only room?” He bit his lower lip and silently prayed she hadn’t bought one of those stupid canopy beds for the master bedroom.
    “Yes, but I’m working on the others.”
    “That’s—that’s great.” He tried not to sound too relieved and quickly changed the subject. “What smells so good?”
    “I’m making a pot roast. Let me check on it. I know how hungry you are after games.”
    He hated this awkwardness between them. Before the attack, he’d have picked her up, swung her around, kissed the hell out of her, and carried her to the bedroom. Now he didn’t know how to react and neither did she. He moved forward and carefully put his arms around her in a quick hug. She stiffly hugged him back. Extracting herself from his hold, she hurried into the kitchen.
    Damn .
    “I’ll put my stuff away.” Cedric grabbed his bag and paused long enough to appreciate her fine ass, visible even through the baggy sweats she wore. He licked his lips and bit back a sigh.
    Bending down, he picked up a bra and one sock from the floor, carried them to the guest bathroom, and placed them in a wicker hamper. He made the mistake of glancing in his bedroom and wished he hadn’t. She’d taken over the master bedroom too. Instead of a perfectly made bed, the covers lay in a heap on top of the sheets. Pillows and discarded clothing littered the floor. He ventured into the master bath, fearing the worst.
    He wasn’t disappointed and gritted his teeth as he gazed at the once gleaming granite counters. Brightly colored makeup containers, lotions, and mounds of towels occupied every available inch of counter space.
    God help him. He hoped she cooked better than she kept house.
    A few minutes later and one bite into the pot roast, he realized she didn’t.
    * * * *
    Bella stared at herself in the mirror. The maid-of-honor dress showed too much cleavage, and she tried to adjust it with little success. People shouldn’t be staring at her tits instead of staring at the bride.
    Izzy getting married was a big deal, and Bella would do her part to make sure it was the wedding of all weddings. She’d been doing so before the incident, and she’d do so tonight.
    Bella called the attack an incident, as if the generic term would