I take a few steps toward her, but stop when she glances in my direction, and I stop. “I tried going to the guest bedroom, but you asked me to stay.” Shrugging my shoulders, I slip my hands into my pockets, unsure of what to do with them. “So, I did.”
“Oh.” Her eyes move away from me, and I wish I knew what she was thinking.
“Are you hungry?”
“What?” The way her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion is adorable.
“You probably need food after the drinks last night,” I pause for a second, “unless you don’t think your stomach can handle it. Then I can take you back to Lisa’s to get your car.”
She pushes the blanket back and slides off the bed. Her hands brush over her clothes to straighten them out before turning to me. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I wink and head toward the door. I hope like hell she follows me. My steps are slow as I open the door and wait for the sound of her feet along the hardwood to let me know she’s coming. Little does she know Patrick teaches me how to cook before shifts, and after staff meetings. It’s one way I can impress women. Mom worked too much to really teach me how to do more than the basics.
Please let there be enough eggs to cook for both of us. Since Lisa moved out, I only have to cook for myself and the fridge isn’t as well stocked as it used to be. Joan follows me through the hall, then into the kitchen. A chair slides across the floor as I continue toward the fridge.
“Do you know where my phone is?” Her voice startles me and I almost drop the carton of eggs in my hand.
“It may have fallen out of your pocket in the bed.” I honestly don’t remember seeing her phone last night when we left. There’s a good chance she left it at Lisa’s house.
She leaves the room to look for it, and I pull out everything I’ll need for breakfast. I set the temperature on the oven and set two skillets on the stovetop. One for the bacon and the other for eggs. It feels nice having someone else to cook for. I’ll do dinner at my mom’s occasionally, but my brother is so freaking picky it’s hard for me to come up with things we all like.
“It’s not in there,” Joan is standing in front of the counter, chewing on a nail. “I guess I left it at Lisa’s.” Another glance around the room to see if maybe it’s in here somewhere. “Can I use your phone? I’m sure my dad has been calling nonstop.”
Pulling it out of my back pocket, I unlock the screen before handing it over and turn my focus back on the food. “There isn’t a ton of battery left, but it should be enough.”
“Thanks.” I expect her to go back into the room for some privacy, but she doesn’t. She’s back at the table and sitting in the chair she vacated minutes before. Even more surprising, she has the phone on speaker. Maybe she’s more comfortable around me than I realized.
I look over my shoulder to see what she’s doing as she’s waiting for whoever she’s calling to pick up. Her eyes are moving over the house, taking in everything, or lack of things, I have on display. Lisa’s right, I need to add more decor in here. I try taking it in from a visitor’s perspective and it looks like it’s not lived in. Yeah, that needs to change.
“Hello,” a gruff voice finally answers.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Bug? Is that you? What phone are you calling from?”
“A, uh, friend’s.”
I tune out the rest of the conversation and fry the bacon while adding biscuits to a sheet pan. I didn’t miss the pause before she said friend and I can only hope that means she’s willing to give me a chance. That’s the way I’m taking it, anyway. And what kind of a nickname is bug?
The grease pops and hits my arm, pulling me out of my thoughts. Absent-mindedly, I run on the spot and flip it. Rule one of cooking bacon, according to Patrick, don’t take your eyes off the bacon. It will attack unwarranted and hurt like hell. This is why I usually cook one thing then the other, ending up in one item always being cooler than the rest.
“Do you need any help?”
I didn’t even register that she was off the phone. I really need to start paying more attention to my surroundings, especially when she’s around. “No, I think I have it.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
She’s not wrong. The bacon is kicking my ass. It’s not the brand I usually buy, and seems to want to torture me.
“Fine.” I point to the block of biscuits still sitting on the pan. “Can you finish putting those on the pan?”
“Sure thing.”
“So…Bug?” I need to know why he called her that.
“I really hoped you weren’t listening in.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t have been on speaker.” I bump into her with my shoulder. It’s the most contact we’ve had since she woke up. I won’t mention the way she curled around me as she fell asleep last night. It might freak her out.
