He Followed Me Home

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Francine unlocked the door and stepped into the apartment at a few minutes after six that night. She was tired, her article had done well but her boss, Percy Henderson, had informed everyone that the company bigwigs were making cut backs and her job was one of the positions in jeopardy.

Francine didn't know what she would do if she lost her job. Though Janice helped with the rent most of the other bills fell on Francine since her job was higher paying. She had been working for the paper for four years and it was the best job she could possibly hope to have. She loved her job.

She tossed her bag onto the couch and kicked off her shoes roughly, enjoying watching them fly across the room and bounce off the wall.

Wyatt walked out of the kitchen just in time to see her pull the pencil and tie from her hair and all her curls sprang loose as she sighed, closed her eyes and leaned against the wall.

"Rough day?" he asked softly.

Francine's eyes flew open and she covered her pounding heart with her hand, "You scared me!" she exclaimed. She had thought she was alone since she knew that Janice had already left for her shift.

Wyatt smiled, "I'm sorry, Franny."

Francine laughed and raised her brow at him, "Franny?"

"You said not to call you ma'am anymore and I don't think Francine suits you so I'm going to call you Franny."

"You can't just change my name because you don't like it, Wyatt." Francine took a deep breath and smelled garlic.

"I cooked dinner for you," Wyatt told her.

Francine didn't know what to say. This man was taking care of her better than even her own parents had. Why couldn't he be real? He was perfect except for the minor detail of being dead.

"In that case you can call me whatever you want," Francine joked.

Wyatt smiled and led her into the kitchen where he had a plate of spaghetti waiting on her. He pulled her chair out and she sat down, "You didn't have to do this for me," Francine assured him.

Wyatt just shrugged as he got a beer from the refrigerator and sat it on the table in front of her, "I didn't have anything else to do," he replied. "I found a book with recipes in it and there was one for spaghetti. Thankfully you had everything here to make the sauce because I'm sure floating tomatoes at the market would have caused a commotion."

"You made homemade sauce? I had cans...."

"My knife was too dull to cut them open," he replied with a shrug.

"You use a can opener," Francine informed him.

"A what?" Wyatt asked with a frown.

Francine shook her head, "Never mind."

Wyatt shrugged and sat down in the chair across from her, "How did the article go over?" he asked as Francine took a bite of the spaghetti and quickly chewed and swallowed to make room for another bite. It was easily the most delicious thing she had ever tasted.

"The article went good. My boss still wants a few more things done with it but for a rough draft it was okay," she replied and then she pointed down at her plate with her fork, "This is delicious, Wyatt. You could be the next Emeril. Where did you learn to cook?"

"I'm glad you like it but I don't know who or what an Emeril is," Wyatt replied as he watched her eat.

She shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare and he quickly looked down at his hands. He had gotten so used to being able to stare all he wanted and not be seen that it would take a while to get used to the fact that Francine could see him when he looked at her. "I used to help my mama with the cooking back home in Kansas. I had four little sisters that were all a lot younger than me so I'd help mama to take some load off of her."