10
PHOEBE
Ollie helpsme carry the plates of eggs, bacon, and waffles to the table, where I already put out butter and syrup.He pours us each a mug of coffee and grabs the carton of orange juice from the fridge too.
“Do you want a glass?”he asks as he opens the cabinet to get one for himself.
“No, thanks,” I say.
“This looks delicious, Phoebe, thank you.”He takes his seat adjacent to me.It makes more sense for us to sit at a corner of the six-seat table than across from each other with the expanse of the tabletop between us.And if our knees bump occasionally or I feel the heat radiating off his body, so much the better.
“Thanks.We won’t get to do this often between my work and your travel schedule, so it’s nice to have the chance to do it now.”
He looks up from pouring syrup on his waffle.“How long will you be out from work?”
I’m using the pizza cutter to cut up my waffle since it’s easier than a knife and fork.“I need to talk to my boss Jack.It will take about a week for my wrist to heal, but I could work the register if they need me.”
“Will you get paid for your time off?”
I shrug.“Maybe?I don’t know.I need to talk to him.I was injured at work, but a rogue turkey outside isn’t something he could control.Since I’m only out a week or two at the most, I don’t know what I qualify for.I don’t really need the pay, so I’m not stressing.It’ll work out.”
I have a trust fund from my parents and grandparents, so money isn’t really a concern.I live within my means and own my condo, so I don’t have rent to worry about.Ollie knows I come from a wealthy-ish background.
“If you need anything, you’ll tell me, right?”His concerned brown eyes meet mine.
I do my best imitation of the shrugging woman emoji.
He sighs.“You won’t.What am I going to do with you, Phoebe?”
An easy question to answer.I’ve started a list based on scenes from my favorite steamy romance novels.I wonder if he wants it presented alphabetically or in order of preference?
Rather than answer, I take a bite of waffle and smile as coyly as I can with syrup dripping off my chin.Phoebe, you have zero game.
Ollie chuckles and grabs a napkin to gently wipe my chin.He could have kissed it off, but we’ll save fun with maple syrup for another morning—if I have my way.
His eyes widen when he takes a bite of his eggs.“Holy hell, Phoebs, what did you do to these eggs?”
I glance down at my plate in concern.“I cooked them like I always do.Being left-handed shouldn’t make a difference.”
“They’re incredible!Seriously, they’re the best I’ve ever had.Did you do something special?”
“How do you make scrambled eggs?”
“I don’t know.Crack some eggs, stir ’em up, dump ’em in a pan, and shuffle them around.The usual.”
He’s cute.Clueless.But cute.
“Okay, I’ll teach you how to cook the best scrambled eggs.The main points are to whisk the eggs with a bit of milk with a real whisk until they’re uniform in color and foamy.You want to add air to them.Melt some butter in your pan, and pour your egg mixture in, then reduce the heat.Use your rubber spatula to scoot them around the pan.Add the cheese toward the end.You can do it.You already know how to cook scrambled eggs.We’re just tweaking it.”
“Yeah.Can you cook omelets?They’re my favorite.Ham and cheese with onions and peppers.”
“Of course!What else do you like?”I’ll make this man anything he wants.They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.I normally take another route, but I’m up to try anything.
“For breakfast?These waffles.Anytime.Pancakes and French toast too.For food in general, I like almost everything except seafood.Always happy with steak and potatoes.Lasagna.”He grins.“I can cook too, Phoebe.Not as well as you, of course, but well enough to keep myself alive and reasonably happy.No way do I expect you to handle everything.We can share cooking.Cleaning.Bills.Everything.We’re roomies and friends.Partners.”
My heart flips when he sayspartners.I wish he meant it like “lovers,” not “buddies.”
“We’ll work it out,” I say as I take a sip of coffee.Yeah, I needed that.
