“Watching me, huh?”
“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m stuck sitting on my ass with nothing to do right now but watch.”
He smirks, then says, “I ordered you a CAM boot.”
My brows raise. “You what?”
“Ordered you a medical boot. You’ll be able to bear weight. It’ll be here tomorrow.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. It’s called being prepared.”
“It’s called being overbearing. I never asked?—”
“You never ask for anything.” He closes the refrigerator door, then opens another cabinet, revealing salt, pepper, a few spices, and a jar of honey.
“Jesus. I can’t believe you ordered me that.”
He opens the refrigerator door again and grabs two bottles of water. Then he slams the door harder than necessary.
“You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re muttering at an empty refrigerator like it personally failed you.”
A reluctant smirk tugs at his mouth before he shakes his head and opens a drawer near the island. “Fine. We’ll order food.”
He tosses a stack of takeout menus onto the small table beside me before grabbing his phone. “Tell me where you want to order.”
I blink.
“You keep menus?”
“I live thirty minutes from town.”
“Fair.”
He returns with a bottle of water for me, then heads back to the kitchen, his fingers moving over his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a list of things I need from the grocery store tomorrow.”
“You use your Notes app for that?”
“Of course.” He glances up at me, then resumes typing.
“Me, too.” I grab the menus, trying to hide my smile.
We have something in common.
I flip through them while he leans against the opposite side of the island, arms folded across his chest, his phone in his hand. Like he’s waiting for me to figure out what I want. The warm kitchen lighting catches the sharp lines of his jaw and the dark stubble there.
Stupidly attractive.
“This Italian place looks like a winner,” I finally say.
