“You wouldn’t be here if I thought for a second you did. So, what about you? Other than cooking, what else is there to know about Freya Price?” I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s only going to result in her turning the questions around on me, and I’d rather pull my own tooth out than dive into my backstory.
“Honestly, there isn’t anything else worthy of knowing.”
“I don’t believe that. You went to college, right? What did you study?”
“English. I know, boring, right?”
“Not at all. What did you do after?” I do know what she did after college—Casey briefly brushed on it—but I’d prefer to hear it from the woman herself.
A laugh bursts from her. “I decided it would be fun to move to Las Vegas.”
I can’t lie; when Casey told me, I was surprised. I’d only met Freya a handful of times, but she didn’t seem like a Las Vegas girl to me. And now, hearing her say it, I’m even more confused.
“I wanted to break free, live, you know? I’d never really left LA, and I wanted to experience something different before I embarked on a nine-to-five career like what was expected of me.
“My parents are fantastic. I couldn’t ask for better. But they’re very traditional in their views. They expected me to get a job, find a man, get married, and have babies.”
“You don’t want that?” I ask.
She blows out a long breath.
“Yeah, no. Maybe. Honestly, right now, I don’t know what I want. Vegas opened my eyes to what else is out there, you know? It isn’t just about working and raising a family. There’s so much more to experience.”
“Yeah, there is,” I agree, sipping my coffee.
“And what about you? Or is that a silly question?”
I frown. “Why would that be a silly question?”
Heat rises to her cheeks, and she averts her gaze. “Because from what I’ve read, you’ve never had a relationship.”
“Ah, been back on Google?”
“Honestly, Cole. Type your name in, and the only thing that comes up is you with an array of beautiful women on your arm.”
“That’s not true. What about the endorsement campaigns?”
“I saw them as well.”
“Not as memorable though, huh?” I laugh.
“So, do you want it? The picture-perfect life with a house, wife, and two point five kids?”
“No,” I state flatly.
Freya pauses for a moment, obviously not expecting such a firm answer. “Fair enough.”
As she spins away from me and places a frying pan on the stove, I question whether I should have been so blunt. But I’ve already let her into my home. She’s going to get closer to me than almost every other person I know. I need to draw the line somewhere.
She continues working, filling my apartment with the mouthwatering scents of her cooking, before a plate heaped with avocado toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon appears before me, a bowl of fresh fruit sliding next to it.
Unable to wait a second longer, I pick up the slice of toast and take a huge bite.
“Oh my god,” I mumble as the mixture of flavors explodes in my mouth.
“Good?” Freya asks as she takes her seat beside me with her own, smaller portion of breakfast before her.
“So good,” I tell her once I’ve swallowed. “Try it and find out.”
