Three
This was a prime example of why I locked my phone and my Glock in my gun safe when I was drinking. Using either as weapons promised unfavorable results if I ever got sloshed. No drunken booty calls to old exes and no shooting them.
I grabbed one of the blankets from the closet and lay down on the couch. It was better this way. He’d sleep off the alcohol and forget we’d even had that conversation come morning. But I wasn’t about to let him off the hook. Instead, I’d tease him mercilessly. I needed a few hours of sleep before all the wedding chaos started tomorrow. I set the alarm on my phone and got comfortable. Somewhere between replaying his words and two in the morning, contemplating all of the what-ifs, I dozed off.
The sweet aroma of bacon and pancakes pulled me from my slumber. The scent of my favorite childhood breakfast prompted memories of lazy Sunday mornings when my mother cooked for me and my brothers and all of our friends. It wasn’t often I indulged in the luxury of a home-cooked breakfast. Mine consisted of a prepackaged muffin on the run and sometimes not even that. I enjoyed my sleep too much to get up and cook. I grabbed my phone to check the time and groaned. I still had three hours before I’d need to hit my first snooze button.
“It’s eight a.m.” Ben’s voice was silky and smooth, nothing like the slurred mess from only hours ago when he’d professed his love. I sighed.
“It wasn’t a dream?” I asked, sitting up on my elbows and turning toward the kitchen. “I thought for sure the fruitcake was laced with something illegal, and you were one big hallucination.”
Ben had already showered and dressed. How in the world had I slept through that? He looked delectable and remarkably at home with a rag tossed over his shoulder as he moved throughout the kitchen.
“Sorry to disappoint, princess.” The twinkle in his eyes and playful smile claimed otherwise.
“The last time you called me that, I pushed you into the deep end of your mother’s pool.” I slowly sat up, mourning the hours of sleep I’d never get back. “Why are you awake?”
“I’m a morning person. Always have been.” He rounded the kitchen bar and set a plate and cup of coffee on the table in front of me before kissing my forehead. “And if you recall, I got you wet that day, too.”
Yes, he had. I remembered all of the passionate summer nights we’d shared, but it hadn’t taken long for those memories to be replaced with lonely nights in which I’d waste precious sleep waiting for his call after he’d left for college. Not that I was about to rehash my broken heart. That was years ago. I’d seen him plenty of times since, and our time together was nothing more than a faded memory.
I grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate and chewed. “Where did this food come from?”
“I made it.”
“This wasn’t in the fridge.” There was nothing much in my fridge, not even leftovers. My job kept me busy, and being home for a cooked meal was reserved for mandatory Sunday dinners with my parents. An obligatory family tradition that required an act of God to get out of, and even then I’d still need to call. Ben Michaels had made plenty of appearances there. My mother used to think that Ben always flirted with me, but I knew better. He was only there for my mother’s cooking. She was the best in the tri-state area and had awards to prove it.
“I’ve already been to my house for a couple changes of clothes and stopped by the store all before my jog on the beach,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen before re-emerging with his own plate. Of all of the furniture in my condo, he sat right next to me. His warm, muscular leg touched mine, as if he knew that small gesture would push my buttons. I wasn’t that naïve little girl anymore.
“See now. That’s why we were never a thing.” I smiled, sipping my coffee. “I don’t do mornings.”
He grimaced but didn’t deny remembering the conversation. “We’ll fix that.”
I paused with a bite of pancakes near my lips and slowly lowered it to the plate. What kind of karma had I earned to insist that I have this type of conversation before ten a.m.? “Why fix what isn’t broken?”
“Fair enough. How about I counter offer? Early during the week, and I’ll let you sleep in on weekends.” A smile toyed on his lips as he dipped his bacon in the syrup and held it to my lips. I took the whole piece without a fight. I was a sucker for sweet and salty.
“You’re assuming I’ll answer the door the next time you’re arrested.” I smiled, happy to make my point. It wasn’t often I could win an argument against a man that got paid thousands to prove a point.
“We’ll compromise. That’s what couples do.”
“Whoa, buddy.” I rose a little too quickly from my seat, almost dumping my own bacon onto the floor. That would have been the real travesty here. “We aren’t a couple. We’re never going to be a couple. You have a girlfriend…granted a stalkerish one, but besides that, sleep time isn’t something I’m willing to negotiate with anyone.”
“Not even if we have morning sex? Think about it, Lizzy. I could send you to work every day with a smile on your face. The criminals and your coworkers would thank me. Heck, they might even build a statue in my honor.”
“As interesting a prospect as that sounds, and God knows your ego needs another statue”—and I could use a good roll between the sheets—“there’s still the fact that we aren’t dating, and you have a girlfriend.”
“Hada girlfriend, and she was right. I never looked at her the way I do you.”
“So, you do remember what you said last night.”
“I remember everything, and she was right. I never looked atany of themthe way I did you.”
“That’s because you’re no longer a hormonal, horny teen,” I said, taking my plate with me to the kitchen.
“That may be true.” His eyes sparkled with hunger, making me question if I’d been wrong about everything but his age.
“I made a decision. You and I are going to date. We’ll use your brother’s wedding as a sort of a coming-out party to get everyone used to the idea that we’re a couple.”
