Page 34 of Lucky Mother Pucker

I kick my shoes off and walk inside. When I turn around, she’s still standing at the entryway, glancing around.

“Wow. This is really big,” she says.

“It feels a lot smaller when all my roommates are home.”

She looks at the stone fireplace. “That’s really nice.”

“Thanks. My grandpa built it.”

“Really?”

I nod. “This was his house. I inherited it when he died.”

She gazes around the living room. “You must make a lot of money charging rent for this place.”

“I don’t charge my teammates rent.”

“Oh.” She hesitates for a second. She looks down at her feet like she’s nervous.

I think of a way to set her at ease. “Are you hungry?”

She looks at me. “What?”

“Have you eaten?”

She shakes her head. I motion for her to follow me. We walk through the living room and dining room, then into the kitchen.

“My roommate made a big sheet pan of mac and cheese. Does that sound okay?”

She bites her bottom lip, like she’s hesitating. “Yeah, that sounds yummy,” she says softly.

I grab a plate from the cabinet, then grab the leftovers from the fridge.

She drops her bag on the kitchen counter. “Can I help?”

I shake my head. “I’ve got it. You can sit down. Get comfortable.”

She takes a seat on the barstool at the other side of the counter. While I reheat the mac and cheese in the microwave, I pour her a glass of water.

“What else do you want to drink? We’ve got water, soda, orange juice, milk,” I ask.

She looks at me. “You don’t have to wait on me.”

“Why not? You waited on me.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up like she’s trying not to smile.

I open up the fridge and look inside. “Looks like we’ve got some beer too.”

“No beer,” she says, her tone verging on hard. “I’m fine with water. Thanks.”

I set the plate of food in front of her and head upstairs to change the bedsheets on my bed and grab her some towels for the bathroom.

When I walk back downstairs, her plate is empty.

She blushes. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

“Here, have more.”