The curiosity that killed cats

I couldn’t face Curtis—not directly, anyway.

It was already hard to look at him and not think about my dream from the night before but did he have to walk around shirtless too?

I caught myself staring at his back for the third time and I had only been in the kitchen for five minutes. He was resting his elbows on the kitchen counter, humming gently as he waited for the timer to go off on the waffle maker.

On the other hand, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing here. I would lie and say I was hungry and waiting to prey on some of his waffles but I would be deceiving myself. I didn’t know he had stopped humming until he spoke.

“Enjoying the view?”

My cheeks flushed. Where were snarky comments when I needed them? Instead of saying something smart, I said the stupidest thing ever. “What’s there to enjoy?”

I could imagine the smirk on his face without having to see it. “Sweetheart, my back would have a pair of holes through it if eyes could burn.”

As if it was not enough that he wa