Clay
My house was clean, but not so clean it was suspicious. Same with me. I’d showered but decided to forego cologne. I did my hair but left it a little messy. I was in comfortable clothes but not so much that I looked like a slob. It was the same stupid balancing act I’d been doing for years, but I couldn’t be greedy now. Friendship was a good first step for us. Maybe a step towards disaster, but then, what wasn’t when it came to Lauren? It was a relief when she rang the doorbell, and I ran out of time to stress over how tonight might go.
She had her hair up in a messy bun and a snarky T-shirt on that saidHang On, Let Me Overthink This.
Couldn’t have said it better myself. She looked perfect. The exact sort of trouble I liked from head to toe, and it always amazed me that no amount of time could go by where I wouldn’t feel a kick of excitement the moment our eyes met. She gave me a self-conscious smile before pulling it back into her usual look of indifference.
I glanced behind her to see where she parked, and she turned to follow my gaze before fixing me with a stare. “You’re afraid someone’s going to see my truck in your drive, aren’t you? Well, I beat you to it. I parked down the street.”
Neither of us said anything for several seconds. How did we talk about the need to be secret friends, for no one to find out that we liked hanging out together? Heck, we couldn’t even admit to ourselves we both wanted to be here. I didn’t give a rip about cookies. I wanted to see Lauren. But I’d still used cookies as an excuse, for both our sakes.
Lauren brushed past me and threw her bag on the couch before walking into the kitchen and inspecting my cookie-making setup. I had everything out—pans and mixing bowls, utensils, all the ingredients, and aprons.
I grinned when Lauren picked up the matching apron set and held them out. Under a big cookie-shaped heart were the words,Kiss the Cook. I’d come home with the set after a white elephant gift exchange. Lauren had been there, but I didn’t know if she remembered. I was sort of hoping she didn’t so I could freak her out.
Moving closer, I took one out of her hands and slipped it over my head. “I saw these at the store and thought they’d be perfect for tonight.”
She laughed and pushed me away. “Whatever. I remember you getting stuck with these aprons at the work Christmas party two years ago, Clay.”
“Does that mean we can wear them without any pesky assumptions?” I picked up the one she’d put back on the counter and held it out.
Lauren crossed her arms. “I’m okay with a little flour getting on me. And don’t worry about pesky assumptions. There will be no kissing of cooks going on. Don’t worry.”
“Are you sure you don’t need one? I’m a messy baker. At least, I plan to be. I haven’t really baked anything before.”
“You plan to be messy?” She took the apron out of my hands and put it on, reaching back to tie it around her waist. She was about to say something, but her phone rang and she ran to get it from her bag. When she saw who it was, she put a warning finger to her lips before answering.
“Hi, Noble.”
The dude talked for almost a minute before Lauren cut in with, “No, it’s fine. I understand. Thank you for calling me back. Yes. Everything is set for Friday.” She glanced up at me for confirmation, and I gave her a nod. “Is it okay if we meet at the restaurant?” There was a pause before she said, “Yes, I’m generally punctual.”
He wanted to know if she was punctual? Who was this guy?
“Yes, separate tabs is fine.”
I took a step towards her, but Lauren waved me off, putting a hand over her free ear as if she could block my opinion on the matter. My thoughts about Noble so far weren’t nice ones, and she knew it.
“Okay, see you Friday.” She dropped her phone back in her bag and looked up at me. “Now you can say it.”
“Say what? That Noble sounds like a real winner? I mean, his name is a virtue. And he’s a big fan of punctuality, so he has that going for him.”
Her shoulders dropped and she sank into the couch. “Go on. I know this is your favorite game.”
“Did he really tell you he wanted separate tabs? Because I’m paying for my date, and he can look like a cheapo while I pay for your dinner too.”
“Clay, you can’t.”
“Watch me.”
A thrill ran through me when she got up and stalked over to me, grabbing the front of myKiss the Cookapron in her fist.
“You’ll have your own date on Friday, and I’ll have mine. No shenanigans.”
“I like shenanigans.”
“I know you do. That’s what I’m worried about.”
My hands came up of their own accord and rested on her hips. If she didn’t step away, I was going to kiss her. And then we’d never get cookies, because she’d run. I knew it as well as I knew my own name.
