AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She presses her fingers to my lips. “This is not a buddy cop movie, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
I shut my eyes briefly. “I was being an ass. I’m not going to torment you anymore.”
Her face falls slightly.
“What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you miss being abused by me?”
She scrunches her face up and pushes at my chest. I tighten my arms in response.
“Um, yes?”
“What?” The word comes out strangled. I finally let her go and move to the espresso machine. One touch on the silver panel starts the brewing process.
She leans against the counter across from me, and my eyes arrow to her bare legs. I want them wrapped around my waist. I steel myself to be nice and normal.
“I like going toe-to-toe with you. You treat me like an equal. Even when you’re demanding that I do things for you.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “I respect you, Cal. You’re smart as hell. I wouldn’t have an incompetent person working with me.”
“But you’re not going to torment me anymore? Because I really could help with your work.”
“I know you can. I do need your help. But not today.” I take a deep breath. “Today, I want you to show me what you love about New York. Since I’m just a clueless boy from New Jersey.”
“Stop.” Callie laughs. “I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it.”
“I like giving you shit.” Too much, I think.
“So you want to be a tourist, eh?”
I pass her a coffee and grimace. “Don’t make me do anything embarrassing, please. I’m already regretting this.” But I’m not, not really. I want to spend time with Callie. I don’t know what normal people do on weekend mornings in New York City, and suddenly I’m desperate to find out.
“I was thinking maybe a ride in one of those rickshaws with the music blaring. Perhaps New York, New York? And then we can go to the top of the Rock. Oh, there’s usually a really long line there. You’ll love that.”
“I don’t do lines,” I say coolly. “If you want to do that, then I’ll have a private tour arranged.” More like George can arrange one, but whatever.
“No.” Callie shakes her head, her eyes flashing. “Sometimes you just have to get down and dirty with the masses.” She steps into my space, looking stubborn and sexy in my sweatshirt. I keep myself from reaching for her, but barely. “You forget, I think, what it’s like in the real world. You’ve shut yourself in that glass tower and this townhouse. You need to live.” Her voice is fierce.
“And living means waiting in line?” I arch both brows.
“Living means walking because the subway isn’t working, even if it’s raining. It means dealing with inconveniences and successes being all the sweeter for them.”
Her eyes are earnest. She really means this. Her way. A normal man would wait in line. A regular guy. “I trust you.” I sigh. Trusting her might be the death of me, but I’ll give it a shot. “I guess I can start by trying to make you breakfast. I’m a bad cook, though, I warn you. And you’re giving up, let’s see—” I open the massive fridge. “Ah, steelcut oats with berries and maple syrup. Oh, and turkey bacon.” Suddenly, I feel embarrassed, awkward even. I hate it. “I can make eggs. And toast.”
She gives me a brilliant smile, like I just offered her champagne and caviar. “Eggs and toast it is.”
* * *
“So how are you learning to cook?” Callie perches on a barstool while I carefully crack eggs into a bowl. I’m all thumbs when I do this. I’m terrified to drop the damn eggs. I’ve only successfully scrambled them once.
“Mark, my chef, is teaching me. An hour a week. So far, I can make breakfast and pasta. That’s it.” The words are absent while I hunt for a whisk.
“Not bad.” She watches me over the lip of her coffee mug. Her presence in the kitchen I barely use is unsettling me more than normal. I want to impress her, and somehow I think the chauffeured car and the fancy townhouse aren’t doing it. But maybe breakfast will. “Do you not know where anything is?”
“Ah. No. What do I look like to you, Thompson? A chef?” My words don’t have any bite to them, and she huffs a laugh.
“I can help. If you want.”
I look up at her and point the infernal whisk in her direction. “Sit. I’m cooking. Though I don’t know why anyone needs four whisks.”
