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My stomach flips at the sight of Brody cooking shirtless in my kitchen. Of course, he stayed. And of course, my body doesn’t understand that it shouldn’t get excited about backstabbers like Brody, no matter how hot they are.
“You know how to cook?” I ask, surprised.
He turns his head as he continues to stand in front of my stove. “I have many talents. Cooking isn’t one of them, but I can make a basic meal.”
I want to yell at him to get out, but I really want the pancakes. My stomach is aching for some carbs to soak up the alcohol still causing havoc in my stomach.
“Sit down,” he commands.
I walk over to my two-seater kitchen table and take a seat. I don’t have the strength to argue with him.
He brings me a large glass of water and Advil.
I take the water and drink until the glass is completely empty.
“I made you a Bloody Mary, too. Not sure if you want it though, but it might help to fight the hangover with a little more alcohol.”
I stare at the glass; there is no way I can drink it.
“Nope, I’m good,” I say, scrunching my nose up at the sight.
He grins, and my heart melts a little at the sight of his dimples.
“The pancakes should help,” he says, placing a large plate of pancakes drenched in syrup in front of me.
I dig in without a thank-you. He’s the reason I drank too much last night anyway. He provided the alcohol. He amplified my emotions by coming here.
He watches me as I eat while he does dishes at the sink. I continue to eat while discreetly looking around at my house. It’s clean. Like really, really clean. The dog and cat hair has been swept off the floor. The counters and end tables are dusted and clean. The clutter of mail I usually leave scattered on the counter is now sitting in an organized pile. The dog toys have been picked up and placed in a basket. And he’s not only washed the dishes he created but the dishes from yesterday as well.
I put my fork down as my stomach finally starts to feel better.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Dishes.”
“No, why did you clean up my house?”
“Because, despite what you think about me, I can be a nice guy if I want to.”
“No, you’re a dick. You would only ever be a nice guy in order to get something. What do you want?”
He tosses the dish towel he was using to dry the dishes down onto the counter next to the sink.
“I would think it’s obvious.” His eyes show a desire that takes over his entire body.
I roll my eyes, trying to act like I can easily just forget about him. That nothing he does affects me. Not his stare. Not his muscular body. Not his intense grin. Nothing can touch me.
But he knows my body too well. He knows it’s all a lie.
He pulls out the chair across from me and casually sits down, his legs spread and his body leaning back in the chair like he owns it.
Grumpy walks over to Brody and licks him on his arm. Brody gently pets his head.
I frown, staring at my dog that hates everybody. He hates Alicia and everyone else from work. He hates Gabe. He hates strangers. He won’t go near them, except to bark. Not Brody, though. Apparently, he’s decided, the one person he should hate the most, he actually likes. I’ll have to talk to Grumpy later.
“I have a proposition for you,” he says.
I take a bite of my pancake so that I can answer him with my mouth full. Maybe, if I’m as disgusting as possible, he won’t want anything to do with me. “Let’s hear it then.”
