Twice.
A long honk yanked him out of his thoughts. Nick tossed the phone, gunned the engine, and the Tahoe charged satisfyingly ahead.
It wasn’t long before he pulled into the garage at The Platinum. He grimaced. Another evening returning alone to an empty condo. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. That happened all too often these days, and he knew it wasn’t good. Reverting to being skinny was the last thing he wanted; he’d worked too hard for this physique.
A vision of Jannie’s face when she saw him in the lobby of the Lark flashed through his mind.
She liked what she saw, and he …
Shit.
He had to get her out of his head. This was ridiculous. He needed to move on and stop wishing for the unattainable.
•
Nick shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, quickly towel-drying and pulling on comfortable clothes.
It was good to be home after a weeklong trip to Toronto, where he had frozen his ass off. God, how he hated snow. But the visit to the local maple farm was enjoyable, and the family-run restaurant next door, serving the syrup they produced over the best pancakes he’d ever tasted, made it worth the trip.
The doorbell rang.
“Be right there!” Nick tossed the damp towel into the hamper and strode to the door, adjusting his sweatpants as he went. Swiping his wallet from the side table, he yanked open the door, ready to tip the delivery person.
Oh.
Olivia stood there, the bag from Lemongrass in her hand, an unreadable expression on her face. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
Well, this was a surprise. He hadn’t heard from her after last week’s demo fiasco.
She ran her gaze over him, pausing at the crotch of his gray sweats. “I hijacked the DoorDash girl. May I come in?”
Nick hesitated for a second before stepping aside. His stomach clenched, and it had little to do with the smell of ribeye steak with tamarind sauce from his favorite Thai place.
Spiked heels clicking on the tile floor, Olivia breezed past him, leaving behind a whiff of sweat and sex.
His mouth twisted. Unbelievable. Why hadn’t she showered in the locker room?
Olivia took the few steps to the kitchen and set the bag on the countertop. She opened it to peek inside and pouted. “No mango sticky rice?”
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
Nick watched her extract the single food container and rip open the paper chopsticks sheath. He could count on his right hand the times she’d come here, and when she had, she hadn’t spent the night, claiming she only slept well in her own bed. He knew better: she didn’t like his small apartment. She’d hated it the moment she followed the Realtor inside, criticizing everything from the small kitchen to the builder-grade features.
Why was she here?
“Does Quinton know you’re here?” he asked.
“No.”
Hmm. Interesting.
He eyed the cabinet where he kept the dishes. “I’ll get some plates.”
“I already ate at the club.”
I’ll bet you did.
