AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Tyler
Marisa was back on the mend.
She took another day off without me having to coax her into it. It could have been Davis’ text telling her to stay away until she was sure she was one hundred percent better because he didn’t want to be contaminated by whatever it was she had.
Either way, I was happy.
I was ecstatic she didn’t shoo me off when I offered to come back again Friday night.
When I arrived that night, she was out of bed and in the kitchen. She popped up from behind the refrigerator door. “I can’t believe you stocked my fridge with all this.”
“I can’t believe how much expired food you had in there,” I countered.
She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less. “Well, thank you. That was very sweet of you.” She came to me and lifted onto her toes to give me a kiss. “And all of this”—she gestured to the fresh fruit, bread, vitamins, and everything else I had methodically arranged on her counters—“you were quite the busy bee.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“Well, thank you,” she said, grabbing the pot off the stove.
“Please, for the love of all that is holy, please tell me you’re not making more of that awful anus tea.”
Her cheeks flushed with her laughter. “No, I just noticed it’s clean. And following your lead of organizing this place, I figured I’d put it away.”
“Do you know where it goes?” I asked like the smartass I was.
She raised her eyebrow and opened the oven. “In here?”
I admired her ass in tight black pants as she put it in the cupboard where it actually did belong. “I take it by your quick wit and sarcasm that you’re feeling better?”
She walked to me, linked her arms around my waist, and said, “Much”—she kissed the corner of my mouth—“much”—the other corner—“better.” Then her lips were on my mouth.
I enjoyed the kiss, letting her lead, hoping she was, in fact, much, much better.
She pulled away, leaned her head back, and said, “I can’t thank you enough, Tyler.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Yes, I do. You went above and beyond. Seriously—”
“You’re welcome.” I cut her off, feeling a bit uncomfortable with excessive gratitude.
“I think we need to have a talk, though.”
“Uh-oh,” I joked.
When the look on her face read no-nonsense, the hairs on the back of my neck raised. The feeling I knew all too well from being out on a mission came to mind. Shit was about to hit the fan. And I didn’t know what on earth I’d done to get this reaction from her.
She crooked her finger at me.
I followed.
“Would you care to explain”—she stopped by the linen closet and whipped the door open—“this?”
I was dumbfounded. “Uh . . .”
“Tyler?” Her arms were crossed, and she was tapping her foot impatiently.
“I uh . . . organized?” The word came out as a question.
