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He walks over to me, boxing me in between him and the counter.
With his finger tugging on a strand of my hair that I’ve only just realized I haven’t combed, he says, “What would you think about renegotiating our deal?”
“What do you have in mind?” I’m hoping he’s wanting to continue our friends-with-benefits thing.
“Let me feed you, and I will outline my idea.”
I think about saying, “If it involves getting naked, I’m in.” But on the off-chance I’m misunderstanding him, I smile and nod.
I take my coffee and go sit out at the dining table, as Oliver serves a plate and brings it to me.
“I hope you like pancakes and bacon,” he says.
“I’m happy to have bacon with anything.”
He goes back to the kitchen, serving his own plate, and then comes back and sits across from me. For a moment we eat in silence, and while it might not be awkward, it is a little bit unsettling. What are his intentions?
“How is it?” he asks after I take a sip of my coffee.
“It's very good. Where did you learn to cook?”
“A man's gotta eat. Besides, women love it when a man can cook,” he says with a wink.
I roll my eyes. “It’s all about winning over women, huh?” I say, even though there’s a part of me that is hoping he’s using food to win me over.
“Do you cook?” he asks, ignoring my comment.
“I can cook. It’s not a passion of mine, but like you said, I’ve got to eat.”
He nods. “Poor Madeline can’t cook at all. Thank God Theo’s a better cook than even I am.”
I cock my head. “Really?”
“Which? That Madeline can’t cook or that Theo can?”
“Both.”
“They’re both true. I came home one day and found Madeline nearly in tears over a crispy burnt pork tenderloin. I tried to convince her that perhaps she should learn to bake, because Theo can’t bake.”
I remember Madeline saying something about Oliver being a support in the kitchen. “Was that when you made cupcakes?”
He nods.
I study him for a moment, thinking how lovely his gesture to his future sister-in-law was. How could a man who would do that have something awful hanging over him?
When I finish my breakfast, I put my utensils on my plate, getting ready to take it to the kitchen, when Oliver stands, picking up his chair and bringing it around to sit next to me.
"Before you go, I wanted to talk to you.”
He is sitting so close to me that I can inhale the scent of him, now mixed with syrup and bacon. It makes my mouth water. “Okay.”
His eyes are intense as they study me for a moment, and he looks like he’s trying to get the nerve to say what he wants to say. He laughs sheepishly and looks down as he shakes his head.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
He lifts his head to look at me again. “I never used to have trouble talking to a woman before.”
I’m not quite sure if that’s a compliment. “I didn’t realize I was so intimidating.”
