“On second thought, he was a fan. You can bring him. It’s always nice having cheerleaders there.” I shove his shoulder. Which was a mistake because he catches my hand before I’m able to withdraw it. His hand lightly wraps around my wrist and I can feel his thumb pause over my pulse point. And I know that my heart is giving away that being close to him is affecting me. I watch his bare chest rise and fall before he speaks softly, “I’m going to go shower. There’s cherry coke in the fridge.” He releases my hand and passes by to go upstairs.
There isn’t just cherry coke in the fridge. The entire fridge is stocked. With real groceries. I know he doesn’t get that from his dad becauseAJ complains about Eddie surviving on girl dinners and how he would probably die without her. I personally think Eddie’s girl dinners are cute.
I keep snooping. It’s only fair for me to know what I’m working with since the kitchen is where we’re starting. I open the freezer and start laughing when I find three pints of butter pecan ice cream. I guess Oliver has a sweet tooth. I start checking drawers looking for the catch all drawer. I feel like that exposes so much about a person. And I’m desperate for any loose knowledge to unearth about this man. I open drawer after drawer and only find spices and silverware and Ziploc bags.
“I don’t have one.” I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Oliver’s voice.
“Don’t have a what?” I rush the words out to try and hide how badly he scared me.
“A drawer with all the random things.” Lies.
“Everyone has one.” I narrow my eyes on him. He’s standing across the island in new sweatpants and a tattered shirt. His hair is in disarray, clearly from where he towel dried it. But he looks refreshed and calm.
He shrugs his shoulders before saying, “I don’t.” He walks out around the island and starts pulling out ingredients from the fridge and lining them up.
“What are you doing?”
“I just had an hour-long workout.” He looks at me like I should understand how that answers my question. “I’m starving.” He turns and reaches behind me for a knife. “I know you live off tacos, but how do you feel about breakfast tacos?”
“I’ve never had a breakfast taco.” I try to look over his shoulder which is pointless because he is so much taller than me.
“You can sit if you want. I just need to eat and then we can get to work.” He motions with the knife to the table.
“I don’t want to sit. I want to watch.”
He picks me up and plops me down on the counter next to him. “I don’t think it’s sanitary for me to sit on the counter while you prepare food.”
“My mouth has been on nearly every inch of your body, Mia.” He looks up at me. “I don’t care that you sit next to my food.” He continues moving freely as if he didn’t just rob me of the ability to speak.
I watch him make protein pancakes and put bacon in the oven. And move around the kitchen with the type of familiarity that makes me wonder who all he has cooked for in this kitchen. He mixes up some kind of yogurt mixture and starts chopping up fruit next to me. He pops a piece of strawberry into his mouth and notices me staring at him. “What?” He wraps the words around the strawberry he hasn’t chewed yet.
“You’re cooking for me in a house that you own and you're freshly showered and smell amazing.” I take a piece of strawberry and pop a shoulder. “It’s a hot look for you, Ol.” His cheeks tint pink as he dips his head and starts plating the pancake taco and stuffing it with bacon and egg and sprinkles cheese on top.
“Breakfast is my favorite food.” He hands me a plate. “Hope you enjoy your first breakfast taco.” He points to the beautiful plate of food now sitting in my lap. “Eat. And then we get to work.” I shouldn’t be so turned on by a man telling me to eat. But my body reacts to the simple words and I know that today is going to be a challenge in more ways than one.
MIA
Ialmost didn’t come tonight because I’m so exhausted. I’ve been pulling a few extra shifts at the coffee shop because the owners are on vacation and they only wanted me to have the keys to open up and do the order for the week. I’ve been training with AJ for an hour each day and teaching the women’s class on Thursdays. I’ve also been revamping the socials for West Haven since we launched the extra classes with the memberships from the sponsorships. Our websites have heavy traffic since Rory won his title fight. Oliver and AJ have been training this week. She also trains with Rory every day, sometimes twice a day. We both decided to do margarita Monday at her apartment this week because we wanted to couch rot. Rory was sweet about it though. He went and got our tacos and delivered them himself.
Oliver and I haven’t crossed paths much this week. He’s been locked in preparing for his fight tonight and I’ve been pushing myself too hard with all the projects I have allowed myself to take on. But AJ knocked on my door earlier with my favorite snacks and told me that I could pick out her outfit. My favorite activity.
“This whole transformation is insane, Mia. I still can’t believe he’s letting you do work with him on the house.” Nobody can. When I came into the gym on Monday, Maxwell cornered me with questions about how Oliver acted Saturday.
“He was weirdly calm the whole day.” I’m going through my closest while she lays on my bed. “Did you know he can cook?” Dumb question. Of course she does. They know everything about each other.
“He cooked for you?” Her voice is more serious than before. I peek my head out of the door frame just in time to see AJ shoot up from laying down. Her eyes squinted in confusion.
“....Yeah?” I wait for her expression to change or for her to say something else but when she doesn’t I ask, “is that not okay?”
“He pretends he can’t cook.” She says suspiciously.
“Well, he can. He made breakfast tacos.”
“He made you tacos.” She repeats what I just told her like she’s still in shock and trying to figure out what I’m saying.
“Yes, Avery. He made me tacos. We stripped and sanded his cabinets and stained them. I put backsplash up. We barely talked while we worked, it was nice.” I go over the events of Saturday with Oliver. I find the skirt I have been looking for and toss it at her. “You’re wearing this and this new corset top I got you. It has a snake charm that hangs between your boobs! It’s clearly made for you.” I find the top from a chair that has my recent shopping haul on it. It’s a dark green and sheer corset top that will look incredible on her.
She shakes her head, “I’m cornering his fight tonight. This skirt is too short.”
