Page 5 of Trashed to Treasured
He chuckled and situated me in the corner so I was partially upright. “I’m a friend of Harris and Jesse. Jesse asked me to sell or donate your stuff but—”
“Oh my god.” I grabbed a pillow and pressed it over my face. “You looked in my backpack, didn’t you?”
He sighed and kneeled down in front of me. I couldn’t see him, but I could sense exactly where he was. “I found your passport and a wad of cash that I figured you might want back.”
My head popped up, and I looked him in the eye for the first time. “My passport was in there?”
He nodded. “And some other things that I thought might be important to you.”
Dammit. He did see everything. Why didn’t I have a pillow big enough to crawl inside and die in? I lowered my forehead to the pillow, willing my stomach to settle down. “Thanks for bringing back the money. The other stuff can be tossed. I don’t need them anymore.”
His wide hand slid across my back in a gentle motion. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Is there anything I can do to help?”
I shook my head and then remembered my delivery. “Was there a bag of groceries on the porch?”
His hand stopped, and I feared I’d broken the spell of him touching me. “There was a bag of booze out there, if that’s what you’re calling groceries.”
I couldn’t help a grin as I tilted my head to look at him. “I’m giving myself twenty-four more hours of mourning before I sober up.” I thought about cracking open a new bottle of vodka, and my stomach roiled. “Although, I might be done with the liquor for now. Did you see a Gatorade in there?”
“Lemme check.” He patted my back twice before heading to the front door. I realized it was still wide open, but he shut it behind him when he brought the bag to my coffee table. He pulled out two bottles of vodka and gave me a questioning look.
I shuddered and put my hand over my belly. “No, thanks.”
“Good boy.” His words were almost whispered under his breath, but I heard them and a different kind of shudder passed through me. One that started at the top of my spine and traveled straight down to my balls.
“How about this?” He pulled out a bottle of electrolytes and twisted off the cap, not waiting for my answer.
“Thanks.” I took a long drink, finishing half the bottle. “Not sure that’ll stay down, but it tastes better than…” I shrugged. “Well, you know.”
He placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me a gentle squeeze. “I know, sweetheart. What about this?” He held up a blue tube of cookie dough. “You want cookies?”
I smiled wistfully. “I always want cookies, but I’m not up for baking them. But if you don’t mind cutting open the end, I’ll eat it out of the tube.”
His eyebrows furrowed as he read the package. When he found what he was looking for, his shoulders relaxed. “It looks like these are safe to eat raw, so you can have a few bites. But it might be a little heavy on your stomach. Maybe soup would be better.”
I didn’t understand why he was still here and taking care of me, but it felt too good to deny. Even if he was just here as a favor to Jesse, I’d take the few moments of attention I could get.
I wasn’t proud. I was pathetic and desperate and just wanted to pretend someone could love me. “Soup sounds good.”
He pulled a knife from his pocket and notched the edge of the plastic tube so he could tear it open. Squeezing out a thick pipe of dough, he held it up for me. “Want it straight from the tube or should I get a bowl?”
I swallowed hard, shamelessly taking whatever I could from this kind and sexy man who was just being kind to a stranger. “From the tube is fine.”
I tilted my head up and opened my mouth so he could squeeze a bit of cookie dough directly onto my tongue. My eyes drifted shut as I bit into it and savored the sweetness. “Mmm, that tastes good.”
When I opened my eyes, the man was staring at me like he’d just witnessed me in the throes of passion. Then again, it was some pretty good cookie dough. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” His big hand cupped the side of my face, and he wiped a bit of dough off the corner of my mouth. “Drink the rest of this, and I’ll see what kind of soup you have.”
I nodded as he stepped away. Was this actually happening or was I in some kind of alcohol-induced hallucination?I’ll do anything for you, Daddy.That’s what I wanted to say, but of course, I didn’t. “Um, what should I call you?”
He stopped at the doorway to my kitchen and inhaled a quick breath. “Call me… My name is Aaron.”
“Thank you, Aaron.”
4
AARON
