“I’m done inside. You just have to unload the dishwasher when the cycle finishes. All the leftovers are packed up. Labeled and in the fridge or freezer—”
“Is there pie left?” He’d missed out when she’d served it earlier.
She smiled at him. “I saved you a piece earlier. It’s in the back of the fridge, hiding behind that huge jar of pickles.”
“Thanks.”
Rylan tried to come up with a reason to keep her here. They hadn’t talked about this morning. Hadn’t had a chance because no sooner had they gotten their breath back than the doorbell had rung. It was a mad scramble to get themselves presentable, and he was pretty sure they’d pulled it off. Although Alyssa’s parting comment not to hurt Mazey indicated maybe not.
“Why don’t we sit for a bit and have a drink. I know you didn’t really relax today, you always seemed to be carrying around a plate of food, offering it like a waitress. You should pop your feet up for a bit before you go.” He lifted the lid on the closest cooler. “Beer? Wine? Water?”
“Water. I’ve had enough wine for one day, and I still have to walk home yet.”
“I’ll drive you home later.”
“No, that’s fine, it’s only around the block.”
“I know, but you helped out so much with today. It’s the least I can do.”
“You don’t—”
“Maz.” He thrust a bottle of water in front of her. “Stop arguing and say,thanks, that would be nice, Ry.”
“Thank you, Ry.” She snatched the bottle out of his hand. “That is completely unnecessary but nice of you,” she added with a smug quirk to her mouth.
“Smartass,” he muttered, cracking open his own water bottle. He waited until they were both seated to speak again. “So. We should talk about this morning.” As grenades went, it was a doozy. Well, except for the lack of noise. Instead of the loud boom, he got dead silence.
23
Mazey blinked. She didn’t think either of them would bring up their encounter in the kitchen. They hadn’t mentioned their previous one, so she thought they were going to ignore this morning’s too.
Except now, Rylan had thrown it out there.
Licking her lips, she sucked in a breath and asked, “What about it?” before bringing her bottle to her mouth for a gulp of water to try and ease the constriction in her throat.
“I think we should keep doing it.”
The water going down her throat reversed direction and surged into the back of her nose. Spluttering and coughing, she attempted to swallow.
“Okay. Not the reaction I’d hoped for.” Rylan leaned back in his chair.
“Sorry.” She coughed again. “Give me a second.”
What could she say? She couldn’t—wouldn’t—lie to him. She definitely wanted to do that again. And more. But she wasn’t interested in getting tangled up in a relationship.
“I’m not looking—”
He held up a hand. “I know you don’t want a relationship. Believe me when I say I don’t want that now either. I’m suggesting we continue as we have. Work colleagues. Friends. And occasionally we hook up. No strings.”
She eyed him. Hadn’t she thought about that herself? Could she do it? She’d never had a friends-with-benefits relationship. She’d known plenty of people who had, but circumstances had never given her the opportunity or the inclination.
Before now.
“So, you’re saying we could keep having sex but not be dating?”
“Exactly.”
“And you don’t think it would affect our working relationship? Our friendship?”
