Chapter 4: Who Doesn't Like Noodles?

"Yeah." Who doesn't like noodles?

He slides a cell phone on the island separating the kitchen from the dining area and leans against the cupboard behind him. We're an entire room apart, but Ridge's presence fills the open space. Most of his form is hidden under his thick black winter coat, but I use my imagination. As if he read my mind, begging him to take off the thick coat, he tosses it next to his phone on the counter.

A white long sleeve shirt covers his torso, the material stretched at his biceps when he crosses his arms in front of his chest. I catch myself ogling him before it becomes noticeable... I hope.

"What will you do for breakfast?"

"Breakfast?" I haven't decided on dinner yet. "I don't really need breakfast. Just coffee." My large metal canister of cheap coffee took up an entire corner of one box, valuable packing real estate, but worth it. Mario insisted we drink premium blends. Six months ago I tried to revolt and bought the economy sized version of my childhood favorite. After one cup he stored it away in a cupboard never to see the light of day again.

Not liking the same coffee should have been clue number one Mario and I weren't a good match. Plus, everyone knows you store coffee in the refrigerator to preserve the freshness — a trick I learned from Gertie herself.

"There aren't any pansy coffee places around here."

"I don't drink pansy coffee. I'm a full roast girl." Because I need to prove I hold my own in the coffee arena, I pop open the box with my big blue canister and show him.

He smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkling, but it only makes him appear stronger. Apparently he approves of my coffee choice. "You got a coffee pot in there too, babe?"

Babe? The way the word oozes off his lips sounds sexist and patronizing. My face puckers, but secretively my insides love it. I've never been a babe to a hot guy before.

"I didn't bring a coffeemaker with me." We had one of those instant cup makers in Oklahoma, but there's no way I could have left Mario without a way to make his Colombian roast.

"Don't look like someone kidnapped your kitten. I'm sure there's one stashed in a cupboard somewhere."

Ridge opens and closes cabinets. When he bends down to inspect the lower ones, I lean over and check out his ass. Discreetly, of course. His jeans hug the tight curves before forming into long legs. Nice.

I'm back in my normal stance, my attention out the kitchen window by the time he stands again. "No coffee pot."

"What?" Gertie was always drinking tea by the gallon. How can she not have a way to heat water in this kitchen?

"She probably took her teapot to the rehab. Stop by the diner. They serve a nice cup, but not until six."

"Six?" There's sheer horror in my words. "In the morning?"

"Not a morning person?" Ridge asks holding back a laugh.

"Not a six a.m. one."

There's a knock on the door, but I'm still confused over not having a way to make coffee. This could be a real problem. Ridge slips past me and I tuck the large can of coffee grounds on the counter. Tomorrow's plan: drive somewhere with 4G signal and figure out where to buy a coffee pot in this county.

The front door opens and closes, a few murmured words on Ridge's end. I hope it's a welcoming committee with a fruit basket. One I'll be able to eat for dinner and breakfast. A sweet smell follows Ridge into the kitchen as a white plastic bag with a red dragon printed on the front swings from his hand.

Food.

My stomach picks this moment to protest, the loud growl filling the quiet room. "I thought you said nothing was open this late?" I ask with a heavy dose of accusation. Who is this guy who walked in my house and started bossing me around like he lives here? I'd be super annoyed if I wasn't so hungry and he had food.

"Get plates from the cupboard behind you." He laughs at my narrowed eyes and places the bag on the counter. Somehow my body finds the strength not to jump on the bag and rip it open. "I said Pelican Bay had nothing open. There isn't unless you're friends with the right people."

"Yeah? Who do you know?" I ask handing over two plates to his waiting hands and going back for silverware.

"One of my guys lives close to Chen's. He dropped it off."

One of his guys? "What do you do?"

Ridge dishes out the various containers, but he's so slow. If he doesn't move faster, he'll end up doing whatever he does with one less hand. A pile of noodles with chunks of meat covered in brown sauce grows on my plate before he switches to the other container and dumps various veggies on top. I reach out ready to eat this food as fast as possible, but Ridge pulls out a small white bag, the top folded over. I'm intrigued. There's only one addition which could make this meal more perfect.

"You like crab rangoons?" he asks pulling one from the bag's opening but not putting it on my plate. He likes to live dangerously.

"Oh my god. You're like my dream man." I wave my hand frantically toward my plate so he'll fill it up with crabby goodness.

"That's a yes on the rangoons, then?"

"What? Yes, load me up. There's duck sauce, right? You must have duck sauce." Rather than wait for him, I dig through the bag finding a small little see-through container of my favorite red colored sauce. Definitely not enough. It's gonna cover like one rangoon. One of my crab rangoons.

Ridge hands me the plate and I sit at the table, the duck sauce placed between us, but a little more on my side. I struggle to share, but the man provided me with dinner, so he's allowed a dip.

One dip.

I've already cracked open the container and dunked my first rangoon by the time he's taken a seat across from me.

He lifts one of his rangoons and moves like he's going to dip it in my sauce and I try not to tense. Or snatch it away from him and hide it on my side.

"You like the red sauce, huh?" he asks.

"Yeah." I push the little container across the space.

He laughs and pushes it back with the edge of his rangoon. "Don't worry about it. Next time I'll order two."

"Hmm. Three. It's a small container," I answer before I realize what I've said. He's implied there'll be a next time... and we'll order more sauce. Does he plan to boss me around again soon? I like the thought way too much.

We both fall into a comfortable pattern of chewing. Well, I chew and check him out when he isn't looking.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I ask, wary of his answer.

Ridge chews his food slowly, taking his time. "I have no idea."

"Oh."

He laughs. "You remind me of a cousin, I guess. You looked so sad and scared. How could I not help?"

Wonderful. The cute guy next door is nice because he thinks I'm pitiful.

I have a few more bites of noodles and other various MSG loaded food in my stomach before I'm ready to engage in conversation again. "You never said what you do that you have guys to bring you Chinese on Sunday night."

"Security." When I widen my eyes implying I'll need more than that he continues. "A lot of alarm systems, standard security measures."

"There's a big need for alarm systems in Pelican Bay?" I'm not even sure we locked the doors when I used to visit.

He laughs, unperturbed by my question. "You'd be surprised what goes on around here."

"Yeah I'm sure Pearl and Roland are a real threat. International jewel thieves hiding out from the law," I answer sarcastically.

"There are quite a few expensive homes up and down the coast. They make for good clients."

"But why Pelican Bay? I'm sure you'd have more clients if you based somewhere in Bangor or even Bay Harbor." I mention two larger towns in the area.

Ridge sighs. "Mom died a few years ago. My older brother and I took it hard, but the youngest Jefferson, acted out. Bar fights, dropped out of college. I left the SEALs at the end of my tour and came back here to help Dad."

Well the military background certainly explains some things. "I'm sorry. Did your brother turn it around?"

"Mostly. He's still too quick to throw a punch, but he works for me now and stays out of trouble. What about you?"

He asks the question I'm prepared for everyone in town to ask and I try out my predetermined backstory.

Recently broken up — true.

Needed a change of scenery — true.

Through his hums and ahs I worry Ridge sees through the parts I leave out, but he doesn't call me on anything. I'd love to sit at the table and grill him for more information on his family, but I don't plan to share more about mine. It's better to not know his than to delve into my history.

...

The dishes clatter in the sink as I toss in the silverware on top of them. I add "wash dishes" to my mental to-do list. I'd forgotten Gertie didn't believe in dishwashers. "Nothing in that box will scrub plates," she'd always say while filling up the white country sink with sudsy water.

Ridge has his coat back on, hiding the big broad chest I'd gotten to admire during dinner. He lingers by the back door.

"Don't forget to eat your cookie before you leave." I toss him one of the plastic wrapped fortune cookies.

I break apart my cookie and reveal the fortune. My face puckers as I read the nonsense. Come on, cookie, can't you give me words of encouragement? Crap about new beginnings or shit.

"What'd yours say?" he asks, cracking open his own.

"Behind an able man. There are always." I shrug. "Who the hell knows what that means. You get anything better?"

He laughs and sticks a piece of cookie in his mouth while unfolding the paper and flipping it over. His eyes narrow as he reads, his head shaking when his eyes meet mine. "Nope. More nonsense." Ridge stuffs the fortune and wrapper in his pocket before I can offer to throw them out for him.

"Chen's needs to work on their cookies." I toss my papers in the trash.

"I'll tell them the next time I stop by." He laughs, a deep chuckle.

"Hey," I call out before he leaves. "Can I have my key?"

He pulls his heavy key ring from his pocket and after a moment of finagling with it drops the silver key on the counter. "Sure."

"How'd you get a key, anyway?" I'd like to know how mine was wrong.

He shrugs. "Gertie trusted me. And she locked herself out at least once a week but refused to let me install one of our systems. Said she wouldn't let someone use cameras and technology to spy on her."

Sounds exactly like Gertie.

"Night, Tabitha. I'll see you tomorrow," Ridge says and then he's out the door with barely a sound behind him.

I don't remember a time I've ever been more excited for a tomorrow.