My chest feels like an overfilled balloon. “Okay, well, if you want to shower, I can make us something to eat. Wait, you’re not a vegan are you?” I definitely should’ve asked that question on the way over.
He gives me a quizzical look. “No, why?”
I blow out a relieved breath. “Good. That could’ve been really bad.”
“Because?”
“Oh. Because I would never.”
He laughs out loud. “That’s your red flag?”
“Are you kidding? We could never have nachos late at night? Or DoorDash greasy tacos? Order Thai basil pork?”
Calder stills, adjusting the bag on his shoulder.
“What?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. That all sounds good.” He sniffs and clears his throat. “Shower is . . .”
“Oh right, just down the hall. Bedroom is on the right. I have another bathroom that way,” I point to the room behind the table, “but mine’s better.”
He nods and heads toward my room.
“Towels are in the cabinet, top shelf.” I try not to sound flustered, but I’m already imagining him in my shower. I briefly consider joining him, but I tried that once and it wasn’t nearly as sexy as advertised. I was freezing, and there were no good angles.
When he disappears down the hallway, I press both hands to my face and exhale. Then I busy myself in the kitchen, pulling out pasta, tomatoes, basil. Something I can make on autopilot since my rational brain is completely offline.
Calder is in my house. He kissed me twice and now he’s naked in my house.
The shower starts. I focus on chopping tomatoes, humming under my breath. The scent of garlic and olive oil fills the air by the time he reappears in joggers and a clean T-shirt, his hair damp and messy.
He watches me stir the pan, amused. “You cook.”
“I do. Rarely. I’m trying to impress you.”
“Mission accomplished.” He leans against the counter.
“It just has to simmer for a sec. If I go rinse off, can you drain the pasta when the timer goes off?”
He nods. “Yeah, of course.”Green flags, A.I dry my hands on the dish towel and round the counter, planting a kiss on his cheek before taking my bag to my room.
I’ve never taken a faster shower. Turns out I did have time to wash my hair last night, because I accomplish it now in less than three minutes. I rush to towel off and wrap my hair so it can dry for a few seconds while I moisturize. I comb it out and put on my nicest sweats and a tank top, then hit the light and leave the lamp on next to the bed.
I step into the living room barefoot and stop short. Calder’s sitting at my table, one arm draped casually over the back of the chair. The food is plated, and he’s filled water cups with slices of lemon.
“I found them in the fridge. Hope that’s okay.”
I smile. “Definitely.” I walk over and sit next to him. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He leans over and kisses me.
I smile against his lips. “You smell like my soap.”
He kisses me again, twisting my damp hair around his fingers, then pulls back and looks at me. I’m lost in those glacier pools when he says, “The food will get cold.” He doesn’t have to say the rest. I’m thinking the same thing.
“I have a microwave.”
He pulls me up off the chair so fast, I gasp. “Calder!” His laugh is rough as he moves me back and scoops me into his arms. I curl into him since the hall is narrow, and he has to adjust our angle twice to make it through the bedroom door.
