“Much to the dismay of your group of secret admirers.”
He smirks, but keeps working. I ground myself in the sounds of whatever he’s working on. The thud of a knife against a cutting board. The splatter of juice in a cup. The clinking of ice in a glass.
“But I feel guilty feeling that way,” I continue.
He hesitates for a moment. “Why?”
“Because I should be grateful I have my family. I have siblings and parents and people who . . .” I trail off. People who what? Care? About themselves maybe, but not so much about me. Not that the world revolves around me, but them remembering where I work and thinking to include me once in a while would be nice. I shake my head. “I just think about Lola. She’d kill to have her parents back, and here I am sending my mom’s calls to voicemail to avoid backhanded compliments and bickering with my sisters at brunch.”
“You know it’s okay to have feelings, right? How Lola or anyone else processes them is their business.”
“Yeah I guess so.” I dice the last piece of tomato and slide the board back to him just as he pushes a rocks glass to me. I barely even eye the pale green liquid and the bright-red rim before I take a sip. When the flavors burst on my tongue I pause. It’s spicy and sweet and citrusy and I’m already going in for a second sip when I realize he made me a spicy margarita.
How did he know I like those?
I pause, the glass halfway to my mouth, a warm feeling that has nothing to do with the tequila spreading through my belly to my chest. Reid stops his work and looks up from the bowl he’s stirring. He almost looks nervous as he asks, “Is it okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
He visibly relaxes and the hint of a proud smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he resumes his stirring. I take another sip, then set the glass down. Absolutely phenomenal. Exactly what I needed today. But still. “How did you know this is my comfort drink?”
His fingers move quickly, the knife flying at inhuman speed as he dices a red onion in small pieces. Then he finally sets the knife down and wipes his hands on the towel again before looking up at me. “You said so at the engagement party,” he says nonchalantly, as if remembering that fact would be so obvious.
My sister doesn’t even remember where I work or what my middle name is, but he remembers my favorite drink that I mentioned in passing two months ago?
“And you filed that away?”
He nods. “I did.”
“But you didn’t like me then.”
“Still not entirely sure I like you now,” he says, the words teasing and not at all serious despite how we started this relationship.
I roll my eyes. “I’m a delight to be around and you know it.” He smirks and plops the cerulean bowl between us. My stomach immediately grumbles. “And you made guacamole?”
“Seems fitting for spicy margaritas, no?” He pops a piece of tomato in his mouth and my eyes zero in on his lips and the way they move. When they pull up in the corner and his dimple reappears, I clear my throat, break my stare, and lift the glass back to my mouth in the hopes that the icy drink will cool me down.
It doesn’t.
When I set the glass back down, I open my mouth to comment on the lack of chips just ashe slides a bag next to the bowl. “A true gentleman.” I watch—absolutely thrilled to see Reid in action—as he pulls out a pan and more ingredients. Crunching on chips and guacamole, I finally ask, “What are you doing now?”
“Making tacos.”
“Why?”
“So you can eat,” he says.
He spins the pan in his hand and sets it on the stove. An absolute showoff. Sexy, but a show off.
“Why are you feeding me?”
He comes back to the counter in front of me and picks the knife back up, preparing to finely chop up lettuce.“Because you need to eat something. You haven’t eaten all day.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “How did you know I didn’t eat anything?”
He sighs and turns to me again. We’re so close I can see the dark blue ring around the pale blue of his irises. I’ve never noticed that before. His eyes almost look like an eclipse—a dark center with a bright silver middle fanning out into a blue. It’s mesmerizing.
“Because,” he begins, refocusing my attention on his words, “I was watching to see what your reaction would be when you finally tasted some of the food I prepared. Imagine my immense disappointment when you didn’t put a single bite of it in that pretty little mouth.”
