I can smell my favorite chicken parmigiana, and my stomach rumbles.“Peace offering for what?”
“To let me hang out at your place.I heard you telling Flora about Nonna’s.”He shoots me a quick grin.“Thought you’d have a hard time turning down food from your favorite restaurant.”
I open a bottle of white wine and pour two glasses.“Clever.”
“I certainly thought so,” he chuckles.“And I was right.”The thought that he drove an hour to get food I like makes something warm unfurl in my chest.
“Let’s watch a movie,” he says, plating the food.
“You came over to watch a movie and eat food?”I ask dubiously as he carries the plates to the living room.
“Yeah,” he replies casually.
“That’s it?”
He settles down on the couch.“Is that a crime?”I watch him reach for the remote, not sure how to answer his question.He doesn’t seem to have any ulterior motives.
I bring the wine glasses over and settle beside him, keeping a careful distance between us.We eat in comfortable silence, the movie providing background noise.It’s surprisingly normal—domestic, even.Not something I ever imagined doing with Caleb Wilder.
It’s hard to pay attention to him when my mind is swirling with thoughts about the man sitting on the opposite end of the couch.The more I intended to stay away from Caleb, the more he’s weaved himself into my life.Now we’re friends with benefits, and he’s hanging out on my couch because he wants to for some reason.I glance around the room.Is this some alternate reality?
“Stop thinking too hard, Lopez.You’re giving me a headache.”
I blink, looking over at him.Nope.
I never took him for the considerate type, though, so I don’t know how to handle this.I’ve never been with somebody who drove across the city to get me food I liked simply so that he could hang out with me.On purpose.I’m well aware of my sharp tongue.It does a fine job of acting like man-repellent.But on Caleb, it seems to just make him more determined.
I wonder what’s going on in his head.
When we finish eating, I set our empty containers on the coffee table.Only then do I let myself relax completely, stretching my legs out along the couch.Being short has its disadvantages—my feet barely reach the other end where he’s sitting.
Before I can settle properly, he moves closer to me, and his hand wraps around my ankle and yanks, pulling my feet directly into his lap.
“Hey!”I protest, but he’s already settled his hands on my ankles, warm and solid, his thumb starting to trace lazy circles against my skin.I nearly choke on my wine.The touch is so casual, so intimate, that it catches me completely off guard.
“What?”He glances at me, his hand stilling.
“Nothing.”I take another sip, trying to ignore the way his touch is sending little sparks up my leg.“Just surprised you’re not trying to get me naked.”
“Would you rather I was?”His voice drops to that low rumble, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes that makes my toes curl.
“I didn’t say that.”
His hand resumes its gentle massage, fingers working the tension from my feet.“We had a long day.Figured we could just...hang out.”
The words sound foreign coming from him.Caleb doesn’t ‘hang out.’He seduces, he antagonizes, and he drives me to the edge of sanity.He doesn’t do quiet domestic moments.
As the previous movie ends, I put on another—some romantic comedy I’ve seen a dozen times—and try to focus on the screen instead of the way his hands are slowly working their way up to my calves.
“Why three jobs?”he asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the movie’s dialogue.
“What?”I try to keep my voice casual, but I’m surprised he even remembers that detail.
“In college.You mentioned working three jobs to put yourself through school.Why not get help from your parents?”
I set down my wine glass, trying to appear nonchalant even though the question surprises me.“My mother didn’t want to pay for my education.”
His hands pause their massage.“What did she want you to do instead?”
