Finding Mayhem

by Layla Frost

“What were you doing up there?” His words were softer and gentler than his original question, though I got the feeling he wanted to bark it again. “I was looking for you.” That made him freeze. “Why?” “To say hi. Be neighborly.” He didn’t believe my bullshit for a single second. An arrogant smile spread across his face. “You want to know what I’m grilling.” “No,” I lied. “I smelled the food and figured you were out here, so I came to say hi.” “That’s it?” “That’s it.” “Okay.” Phew. He watched me for a long moment. “I gotta go pull the steaks off the grill.” Not phew. Un-phew. Opposite of phew. I salivated so much, I could’ve reversed a drought. “Real steak,” he added, teasing me with the food and the disdain in his voice. “None of that cauliflower shit.” “Sounds delicious,” I forced out. “Should be.” Another cocky smirk. “Steaks are my specialty.” He turned to leave, heading for the fence door instead of Olympic hurdling back over. My manners—fine, mostly my pride—wanted to let him go, but I couldn’t. “Ward.” He stopped and turned around, his brow raised expectantly. I inhaled deeply. “If you have leftovers…” “Made this for both of us.” My stomach warmed and swirled, and not just because of the upcoming meal. Now that he knows about my shortcomings, he feels obligated to feed me. He pities me. But the thoughts had no barbs to cut with. No fire to burn with. I couldn’t twist his considerate gesture into something ugly. That didn’t mean I wasn’t surprised by it. “You did?” I...