"Sure," he said easily.
They stepped out of the car.
"Nice house," he remarked casually.
"Thank you," Eva replied, trying to sound nonchalant as she paused to unlock the door. "But you'll have to excuse the dusty smell. I'll have professionals in this weekend to clean up. It's… been a while." A flicker of vulnerability crossed her face.
"Don't worry," Alex said smoothly, stepping past her into the foyer. "You should see my house. It's an accident waiting to happen."
"Oh?" she asked, raising a brow, letting a playful smirk curl her lips as she slipped off her coat. "Why?"
"I have a son who doesn't understand the concept of organization," he said, following her into the airy entryway. "I've got Legos on the stove, superhero capes in the fridge, and toy cars that lie in wait in the bathroom to ambush me. Honestly, I'm just trying to survive daily without spraining an ankle."
Eva laughed. It startled even her.
"It is a war zone," he said, scanning the living room as they passed, his grin easy and effortless. "There are mornings I step on a tiny sword and go straight from sleep to trauma."
"Sounds like parenting in a nutshell," Eva replied. Her hands moved, filling the kettle. She stole a glance at him; he leaned casually against the counter, the faint curl of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watched her.
A few minutes later, Eva slid a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, setting it gently on the breakfast table. The surface was scarred with faint scratches, remnants of past breakfasts, hurried mornings, and careless elbows.
She fought the instinct to trace them with her fingers, letting the memory remain untouched, and slid into the chair beside him.
"So… how is your wife?" she asked.
Alex's gaze lifted from the mug, catching hers over the rim. A knowing, slow smile curled on his lips. "I like that," he said. "Sly." His eyes held hers.
Eva arched a brow. "What? I'm just trying to make conversation. You mentioned a kid, and I'm trying to be… hospitable."
He took a slow sip of coffee, eyes flicking to hers over the rim of the mug, clearly savoring their verbal sparring as much as the warmth of the drink. "Are you sure that's it? Or is this just a subtle way to figure out if there's a woman in the picture?"
"Why would that matter to me?" Eva replied smoothly, curling her fingers loosely around her mug as if it were an anchor. Still, her pulse ticked faster, betraying her calm.
"Why shouldn't it?" he asked, setting his cup down.
Eva scoffed softly, lifting the mug to her lips, feigning nonchalance even as the tiniest spark of awareness ran through her. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. It's a perfectly legit question. You mentioned a son, I asked for a wife. That's basic human curiosity, not romantic scheming."
"Uh-huh… keep telling yourself that," Alex murmured, leaning back slightly.
Eva shook her head, a half-smile tugging at her lips as she let her gaze wander to the scratches on the wooden table, imagining a thousand mornings of spilled coffee and quiet tension. "You sound like a man who has women falling at his feet," she said.
"I try not to trip over them," he quipped.
"If you must know," she said, setting her mug down, "I'm not that kind of woman. Men have to work hard for me."
"Then tell me," he murmured, "how many times have you been fucked since your divorce?"
Eva froze, the audacity of the question shocking her. Her stomach twisted because his boldness tapped into a raw, vulnerable corner she hadn't dared visit in a long time.
"I beg your pardon?" Her hands gripped the mug tighter.
Alex met her eyes fully. "I'm just saying… you walk like someone who's used to being touched. But then your body language tells a different story. It's like you forgot what it feels like to be seen."
"None… the answer is none. Since the divorce."
Across the table, Alex leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. Before he could offer a response, a shift in his gaze brought sudden alertness to his features.
"I don't want you to panic," he said, "but… you have a spider in your hair."
A shrill yelp tore from her throat—and her coffee mug slipped from her trembling fingers. Hot liquid splashed across her blouse and chest with a hiss. She sprang to her feet, hands flying into her hair, fingers clawing and patting, swearing under her breath in a flurry of panic.
"Shit! Fuck! Get it off! Oh my God, is it still there?!"
Alex moved. "Careful! It's just a spider! Seriously—what is it with you women and bugs? Dammit!"
"It's gone. You survived. Relax, warrior princess," he said.
But when he turned back to her, hand still clutching the napkin, his gaze dipped—and Eva followed it. That's when the gravity of the situation hit.
The coffee had completely soaked through her blouse, leaving the pale fabric clinging damply to her skin. Her bra was visible beneath, dark against the light, hugging her curves in a way that made her stomach twist. Worse—or more pressing—Alex's hand was still pressed against her chest, dabbing frantically at the spill.
His palm inadvertently cupped the slope of her breast as he wiped.
Time froze. Her breath caught in her throat, uneven, shallow, almost trembling.
Alex slowly lifted his eyes to meet hers. His brows were raised in gentle concern rather than mischief.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly. His thumb brushed accidentally against hers as he adjusted the napkin, a touch so brief it might have been accidental… but it lingered in her mind.
"Yes… thank you," she murmured.
They stood frozen, mere inches apart, close enough to feel each other's breath mingle. Her pulse pounded, nerves firing along every exposed inch of her skin where his hand had grazed her chest. It had been so long since someone had touched her—her body remembered what her mind had been trying to forget.