I hold the phone in my hands and watch the screen as it bounces up and down against my knee. He texts back right away.
Lol. I’m getting you food, bossy pants. Be there in twenty.
Lol? What the hell does that mean? Lots of love? Oh, God, that better not be it. He’ll be out the door faster than Matty-boy. But really, what the hell does it mean?
I stop thinking about it and focus on the last word. Twenty. Twenty minutes. Oh, shit, that suddenly seems way too soon. I run to the bathroom and check my hair, my clothes, my breath. I make a quick run through the house, cleaning it for the second time today. When the doorbell finally rings, I actually know what to do this time. Open it.
He’s standing with two armfuls of groceries, looking very domesticated. I eye the groceries suspiciously. He holds the sacks up and shrugs. “One of us has to be the hospitable one.” He eases past me and walks straight to the kitchen and sets the sacks on the counter. “I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs, because that’s what you’re getting.” He begins removing items from the sacks and pulling cookware out of cabinets.
I shut the front door and walk to the bar. “You’re cooking dinner for me?”
“Actually, I’m cooking for me, but you’re welcome to eat some if you want.” He glances at me over his shoulder and smiles.
“Are you always so sarcastic?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Are you?”
“Do you always answer questions with questions?”
“Do you?”
I pick up a hand towel off the bar and throw it at him. He dodges it, then walks to the refrigerator. “You want something to drink?” he asks.
I put my elbows on the bar and rest my chin in my hands, watching him. “You’re offering to make me something to drink in my own house?”
He searches through the refrigerator shelves. “Do you want milk that tastes like ass or do you want soda?”
“Do we even have soda?” I’m almost positive I already drank up the stash I bought yesterday.
He leans back out of the refrigerator and arches an eyebrow. “Can either of us say anything that isn’t a question?”
I laugh. “I don’t know, can we?”
“How long do you think we can keep this up?” He finds a soda and grabs two glasses. “You want ice?”
“Are you having ice?” I’m not stopping with the questions until he does. I’m highly competitive.
He walks closer to me and places our glasses on the counter. “Do you think I should have ice?” he says with a challenging grin.
“Do you like ice?” I challenge back.
He nods his head, impressed that I’ve kept up to speed with him. “Is your ice any good?”
“Well, do you prefer crushed ice or cubed ice?”
He narrows his eyes at me, aware that I just trapped him. He can’t answer that one with a question. He pops the lid open and begins pouring the soda into my cup. “No ice for you.”
“Ha!” I say. “I win.”
He laughs and walks back to the stove. “I let you win because I feel sorry for you. Anyone that snores as bad as you do deserves a break every now and then.”
I smirk at him. “You know, the insults are really only funny when they’re in text form.” I pick my glass up and take a drink. It definitely needs ice. I walk to the freezer and pull out a few ice cubes and drop them into my cup.
When I turn around, he’s standing right in front of me, staring down at me. The look in his eyes is slightly mischievous, but just serious enough that it causes my heart to palpitate. He takes a step forward until my back meets the refrigerator behind me. He casually lifts his arm and places his hand on the refrigerator beside my head.
I don’t know how I’m not sinking to the floor right now. My knees feel like they’re about to give out.
“You know I’m kidding, right?” he says softly. His eyes are scrolling over my face and he’s smiling just enough that his dimples are showing.
I nod and hope he backs the hell away from me, because I’m about to have an asthma attack and I don’t even have asthma.
“Good,” he says, moving in just a couple more inches. “Because you don’t snore. In fact, you’re pretty damn adorable when you sleep.”
He really shouldn’t say things like that. Especially when he’s leaning in this close to me. His arm bends at the elbow and he’s suddenly a whole lot closer. He leans in toward my ear and I inhale sharply.
“Sky,” he whispers seductively into my ear. “I need you…to move. I need in the fridge.” He slowly pulls back and keeps his eyes trained on mine, watching for my reaction. A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth and he tries to hold it in, but he breaks out in laughter.
I push against his chest and duck under his arm. “You’re such an ass!”
He opens the refrigerator, still laughing. “I’m sorry, but damn. You’re so blatantly attracted to me, it’s hard not to tease you.”
I know he’s joking, but it still embarrasses the hell out of me. I sit back down at the bar and drop my head into my hands. I’m beginning to hate the girl he’s turning me into. It wouldn’t be near as hard to be around him if I wouldn’t have slipped and told him I was attracted to him. It also wouldn’t be as hard if he weren’t so funny. And sweet, when he wants to be. And hot. I guess that’s what makes lust so bittersweet. The feeling is beautiful, but the effort it takes to deny it is way too hard.
“Want to know something?” he asks. I look up at him and he’s looking down at the pan in front of him, stirring.
“Probably not.”
He glances at me for a few seconds, then looks back down at the pan. “It might make you feel better.”
“I doubt it.”