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“Cook with me?” I asked.
“I…what?”
“I’m stressed,” I explained, offering him the sweater. “And when I’m stressed, I cook. So if you want to talk about this, cook with me.”
He removed his glasses, gratefully shrugging into my hoodie. “What do you want to cook?”
“I have no idea.”
Ryan climbed out of bed, moving in close and flattening his hands on my waist. I knew he was about to do it. I saw it coming and still, I stiffened.
“I can’t tell if you really like this, or you really hate it,” he laughed.
“G-g-good,” was all I could manage. “It’s good.”
Seeing Ryan in my room, in my bed, wearing my clothes was doing things to me that I couldn’t comprehend. I needed to lose myself in something that wasn’t Ryan Walker, and I needed to do it before I lost my mind.
“Do you have a good gluten-free dough recipe?” Ryan asked.
“It’s just a matter of switching out the flour, but I don’t do it often.”
“That’s where I come in. I have an idea, but it’s going to be a lot of work.”
“Good.” I let out the breath that got stuck in my chest. “Whole Foods is about an hour away. Do you want to come with me?”
Ryan perked up at that. “There’s one here?”
“Well, not here, it’s in Savannah, but it’s the only way to guarantee I can get what I need.”
“You can bet your sweet ass I’m going to Whole Foods! Let me grab my shoes.”
“You remembered,” I called, halting him in the doorway.
He spun to face me, and the way he drowned in my hoodie amused me. “Remembered what?”
“That I have Celiac.”
“Why wouldn’t I remember something like that?”
I shrugged. “Grace never did. Or she claimed not to.”
Ryan bit his lip, seeming to mull over his response. “Well, if this is going to turn into what I want it to, then I have an obligation to not like your ex. You didn’t deserve that. Now hurry up! Whole Foods is waiting!”
“What’s got you so excited about a grocery store?”
“The prospect of seeing more than grits and pork rinds on the shelf.”
With that, he vanished down the hallway.
When Ryan reappeared, he’d traded the hoodie for a clean T-shirt and his sweats for a pair of jeans. “Why aren’t you dressed yet?”
Truthfully, I’d been sitting on the edge of the bed, wondering when I’d be able to kiss him again. But I held up my bandaged hand as an excuse.
It was a weak one, but Ryan smirked anyway, eyes darkening in the way they did right before he kissed me. “You want some help?”
I could have managed myself, but—and I couldn’t stress this point enough—I didn’t want to. What I craved was Ryan’s hands on me again. “You just want to see me naked.”
“Can you blame me?”
