He waved me off quickly, walking away from the counter. “Nothing. Just… glad you know what you’re doing.”
Once the pasta was done, I mixed everything together. There weren’t many ingredients, but the smell that floated on the air around us was divine. The cheese and pepper melded together into a creamy sauce that somehow felt both fancy and soul-hugging. I swirled the mixture into bowls, topping both spirals with a poached egg.
Done.
Setting our dinner down on the table, I couldn’t help but notice how out-of-place the meal looked inside the mismatched ceramics. Yet, somehow… it fit us.
We chatted casually over the meal, swapping stories and jabs between bites, and by the time the food was gone, we’d already made plans to run it back on the basketball court soon, just to ‘settle the score’ as Colton dramatically put it.
It was easy. Comfortable.
And as we rinsed our dishes and moved through the kitchen as if we’d done it a hundred times, I realized this didn’t feel like playing house.
It just felt like home.
CHAPTER 6
Colton
Derekand I fell into a rhythm quicker than I expected. Each morning, I shuffled out of my room barely awake and groggy, just as he’d be heading out the door in his work clothes, all neat and serious. We’d exchanged the usual ‘Good morning’ and ‘Have a good day’ before he’d leave.
And in the evenings, if I was off early, he’d cook for us. Every dish had been restaurant-quality. But, he kept buying these stupidly fancy cheeses that only came in blocks, which made me think he’d caught onto my cheese goblin ways.
We talked over dinner about our days. He was adjusting to the firm as a full-fledged attorney. Someone in HR thought he was an intern again. He had been accosted by the Stitches Club when they’d just ‘dropped by’ one day to welcome him to town. I nodded along, offering my condolences on being sucked into a thirty minute cross-examination of his life, accomplishments, and plans for the future. Internally though, I was wincing knowing the part I played in condemning him to his unwilling introduction with these women. It sounded like Derek had been very gracious with them, winning over the elderly mafia with ease, and I breathed a sigh of relief that he found them charming, if a bitlong winded. We’d see how long that lasted, though. Donald, one the few reporters at theDaily Westwendian, had come by shortly after Derek had started at the firm to interview him, which had shocked the hell out of him till I explained that new hires and retirements were a whole section in the paper.
I told him about the wacky tourists we got, and the one espresso machine that threw a tantrum if we used certain beans. Only those beans. One night he let me talk the entire time about this tourist couple who got into a huge argument in the middle of the cafe only for the guy to drop down on one knee and propose. And of course, who showed up half-way through looking red-faced and like he’d run ten miles to get there?
Donald.
I’d been pretty sure I was in the background of one of Donald’s photo-op with the couple making a stupid face, so I’d mentioned I was excited to see the paper the next day. Derek had just laughed and suggested framing it if I made the final cut. Spoiler alert: I didn’t.
It was all very…domestic.
I kept waiting for the weirdness to set in, for the moment where things got awkward or tense or too close.
But, it didn’t happen. Not really.
Two weeks into our accidental domestic bliss, I burst out of my room and into the shared space on a Saturday morning, practically vibrating with excitement. “We should go to Darby’s Wish!” I blurted.
Derek was sitting at the table with his coffee, reading a book. He blinked up at me. “What’s Darby’s Make-A-Wish?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s Darby’sWish. Go get dressed and I’ll explain on the way. You’llloveit.”
He made a skeptical face over his mug. “Define ‘love’.”
“Comeoooon, Derek.” I whined. “It’s super cool, and I’ve been wanting to show it to you.”
He stared at me for a beat before sighing, long and dramatic. “What kind of outfit should I wear?”
“It’s in the national forest, so wear something you don’t mind sweating in.”
Derek kept watching me for a moment, amusement tugging at his lips. Then he shook his head, muttering something about triple-digit heat and personal vendettas.
I jabbed a finger at him, wide-eyed. “You agreed!”
He started to protest, but I was already halfway down the hall.
Legally binding agreement: secured.
