Page 49 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

Just as I was about to back out of the driveway and give my guardian angel a real test, I saw the rental car coming down the road. She pulled in beside me.

I waited to see if she was going to run into the house and ignore me again. She climbed out of the car. My stomach twisted watching her clutch her laptop bag like it was some kind of shield.

She looked nervous—skittish, even. Like she was one wrong move away from darting back into her car and taking off again. When she didn’t take off running for the front door, I assumed she was ready to talk. I killed the engine and pulled off my helmet, leaning on the bike as she approached cautiously.

“Hey,” she said softly, stopping a few feet away.

“Hey.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. I wasn’t the one to run. If she had something to say, I was all ears.

“I’m sorry I left like that this morning,” she blurted out. “I freaked out.”

I crossed my arms, studying her. “Why?”

Her teeth nervously nibbled at her bottom lip. She shifted her bag to the other shoulder. “I didn’t know how to face you. Or your crew. It just… it felt weird, and I panicked. After, you know…”

“Sex, Merritt. We had sex. I don’t think we did anything wrong.”

“I know, it’s just, I don’t know. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

I exhaled. Some of the tension I’d been carrying all day eased. “That makes sense.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little. She gave me a tentative smile. “I know it probably didn’t feel great from your perspective, though. I want to make it up to you. Can I make you dinner?”

“Dinner?” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have shit in that kitchen.”

“I thought I would test the new oven,” she said with a smile.

It wasn’t like I had any real plans. And I wanted to spend time with her. “Okay.”

She walked back to the car and pulled out a bag full of groceries, holding it up with a small, sheepish grin. Another bag had what looked to be a couple of pans. “I remembered how much you used to drool when I’d invite you over on nights my dad made his chicken alfredo. I figured maybe I could recreate it. You know, cheesy carbs, food coma, the works.”

Damn her. Just hearing her talk about it had my mouth watering. “You came prepared.”

“I’m nothing if not determined.” Her grin widened, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Alright,” I said, pushing off the bike. “You’re lucky I’m hungry.”

We carried the groceries inside. She wasted no time putting me to work. “Here,” she said, handing me a knife. “Start chopping onions.”

“You only invited me in so I could do your dirty work, didn’t you?” I teased, but I grabbed the onion and got to it.

She threw a wink over her shoulder as she turned back to the stove. “Caught me.”

That wink damn near killed me. Watching her move around the kitchen was sparking a new fantasy I didn’t know was my thing. I would pay good money to see her wearing an apron and nothing else.

Her sleeves were pushed up, her hair clipped in a messy knot on top of her head, with a few loose strands framing her face. She looked so natural, so effortlessly beautiful, it made my chest ache.

She caught me staring as she stirred something in a pan, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Everything okay?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “More than okay.”

We worked together like we always had, falling into a rhythm that felt easy and familiar. Once everything was in the oven, she unclipped her hair, letting it tumble down around her shoulders, and poured us each a glass of wine.

“We’ve got about half an hour while that cooks,” she said, handing me a glass. “I was hoping we could sit and talk.”

“Talk?” I raised an eyebrow, following her into the living room. Sheets covered the sofa she just bought, giving the place a half-finished feel. “What do you want to talk about? Last night?” I gave her a teasing wink.