* * *
Casey pilesthe plates on the counter, next to the sink. “Weird,” she says, looking around her.
“What?”
“You said you cooked all this.”
“Y-yeah.”
“Mmm… How come the kitchen’s so spotless? It’s like no one has cooked in here for weeks; or like they’ve never cooked here at all.”
“What? No, I don’t know what you’re on about. I cleaned up before you came.”
Casey leans her hip against the counter, as I pull the dessert out from the fridge and put it down next to her.
“Is that why that plate hasRed Cherrywritten across it?” she says, pointing to the cheesecake.
Fucking Ryan. I’m going to shove this plate down his throat. Or maybe up his…
“Nick.”
I scoff. “Fine, I had a little help.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“Ian cooked. He brought everything over before I came to pick you up. And the dessert’s from Chris’ café.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to do something nice for you. But, as usual, I’ve just ended up proving to you how much of a dickhead I am.”
Casey steps closer, taking my chin in her fingers and lifting my gaze from the floor.
“Were you trying to impress me?”
“Maybe a little…”
“That’s really sweet, Nick.”
I shrug.
“It’s sexy, too.”
Just the sound of her voice sends a jolt of electricity running through me.
“Oh, yeah?” I push her against the counter. I place my hands either side of her body and breathe onto her lips.
“You know what’s really sexy?”
She shakes her head.
“Spending all this time imagining what’s under that dress of yours. And since you got in my car, I haven’t taken my eyes off your dress, wondering what colour your underwear is.”
“Maybe I’m not wearing any.”
“Maybe,” I say, exhaling deeply.
She laughs, totally at ease with the idea of the dickhead that I really am.
