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I smile to ease any concern she might have. “You can have anything you want while you’re here.”Me included.
“I’m impressed with how well stocked your refrigerator is. Do you have a housekeeper who takes care of it for you?”
I laugh. “Nope. I’m a grown man who can take care of it for myself.”
“I know that, but a lot of people in your situation would hire someone to do that stuff for them.”
“I get that, but it’s so easy to get groceries without even going to the store. They deliver them now. I feel lazy if I don’t at least order them myself.” Opening the fridge, I pull out a package of hot dogs, some slices of cheese, and containers of potato salad and pasta salad. I set them all down on a tray made from weathered wood. I add condiments, salad dressing, napkins, plasticware, and paper plates. I look over all the items. What am I missing? Buns, can’t forget those.
“Will you think less of me if we use disposable forks and knives and plates?” I ask.
She blows out a tut of air. “As if. I’m not bougie at all.”
“Neither am I.”
She points the knife at me. “Says the man who lives in the ten thousand square foot beach house.”
“Seven thousand,” I correct, throwing a wink her way before I carry the loaded tray out to the patio. I flip the burgers and add the hot dogs, then shoot back inside to grab drinks. Rori is done making the salad and she’s putting the dirty knife and cutting board in the dishwasher. I like how comfortable she seems here. She had to search the cabinets for a bowl large enough for the salad.
“What do you want to drink?” I ask. “All I have is water and beer.”
She gestures at her water bottle. “I’m all set.”
“I forgot to ask you if you want cheese on your burger.”
“Yes, please.”
I hurry back outside to turn the hot dogs and add the cheese to the burgers. If there was one thing I would change about this house, it’s the distance from the kitchen to the patio. But then I’d lose the porch, and that’s my favorite part.
Rori steps onto the patio. My gaze hungrily drinks her in. Wearing my shirt with no shoes and her damp hair loose, she looks like she just came from an afternoon spent in my bed.
I fucking wish—even though I shouldn’t. Even though I know we’re at different places in our lives. She’s barely out of college, still finding her place in this world, and I’m at the tail end of my career.
And she’s ten years younger than me. A decade is almost half your life when you’re only twenty-two. But her level of maturity makes it easy to forget all of this.
She sets the salad bowl on the table and walks toward me. My mouth goes dry, along with my eyes losing their ability to look away. I’m growing more enthralled with every minute we spend together, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to stop it from happening.
Except not being around her.But I don’t think that’s possible.
She glances down at the burgers and dogs and then tips her head up toward me. “Looks delicious.”
So do you.
“They’re just about done. Can you please grab me a paper plate from the table?”
“Sure.”
I force my eyes back to the grill, as if to prove to myself that I’m not completely captivated by her. And it works until she calls my name.
My head snaps in her direction so fast, it’s painful. I think I gave myself whiplash. “Yeah?”
Her expression is thoughtful. “I hope you’re proud of everything you’ve accomplished. You should be.”
There’s an unfamiliar tugging sensation in my chest and I have to clear my throat before I can reply. “I am.”
“Good.” She nods. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I husk out and turn back to the grill before she can see how much her words are affecting me. How much her words mean to me.
