“Since always.”He settles back into my cushions like he owns the place.“This chef’s brilliant.Watch this technique.”
I want to stay huffy, to maintain my anger, but despite myself, I find my body relaxing beside him.This is getting weirder and weirder.Caleb Wilder is sitting shirtless on my couch, watching my favorite cooking show while eating my pizza, and I’m in a silk robe letting it happen.
What the hell is my life becoming?
We fill up our glasses again, the wine bottle already half empty.The show plays on, some intense pressure test where contestants are racing against the clock, but I find myself getting distracted by the warmth spreading through my limbs.The wine is good—really good—and I’m starting to feel pleasantly loose.
Somewhere during the second episode, I realize I’m leaning into Caleb’s side.His arm has somehow found its way around my shoulders, and I don’t remember either of us moving.The wine’s warmth mingles with his, making his steady presence beside me feel like the most natural thing.
“This guy’s going to burn his sauce,” Caleb says, nodding at the screen.
“No way.He’s got this.”I take another sip of wine, feeling bold.“Twenty bucks says he pulls through.”
“You’re on.”He clinks his glass against mine.
The contestant does indeed burn his sauce, and I groan dramatically while Caleb laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where I’m pressed against him.“Pay up, Princess.”
“That was a fluke,” I mutter, but I’m smiling despite myself.
By the time we’ve finished the pizza and are halfway through our second bottle of wine, which I managed to find in the pantry, I’m definitely tipsy.The apartment feels cozier, and Caleb’s presence beside me has shifted from annoying to...comfortable.Which should terrify me, but the wine has muted my panic response.
“My brother was really pissed at me today,” Caleb says during a commercial break, his voice slightly slurred.
“Which one?”I ask, though I’m not sure why I care.
“Ethan.Got a full lecture about professional conduct.”He takes a long drink.“Didn’t rat you out, by the way.”
I snicker, the sound bubbling up before I can stop it.“You shouldn’t have messed with me in the first place.”
“Yeah?And why’s that?”
“Because I grew up with five brothers and one sister.I know how to get even.”I turn to look at him, and he’s closer than I expected, his blue eyes amused.
“Five brothers?Jesus.No wonder you’re so vicious.”
“I prefer the term ‘strategically vindictive.’”
He laughs, and the sound does something fluttery to my stomach.“Okay, I have a proposition for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“Truce.You agree not to mess with me anymore, and I’ll do the same.”He shifts to face me better, his arm tightening around my shoulders.“We call it even.”
I consider this, twirling my wine glass between my fingers.“I want my parking spot back.”
“It’s my spot now.”
“It was mine first.”I lean forward, the wine making me bold.“I want it back.”
His eyes drop to my lips for just a second before meeting mine again.“I’ll give it back to you if you kiss me.”
The words hang between us, charged with electricity.I should say no.I should laugh it off or tell him to go to hell.Instead, I hear myself saying, “Fine.”
I lean in and press my lips to his, intending it to be quick, perfunctory.Just a means to an end.But the moment our mouths touch, something ignites.
His eyes grow heated, and his hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer.The kiss deepens, and I can taste the wine and want on his tongue.
He pulls back, breathing hard.“You drive me crazy.”
