Page 21 of Offside Rules

"Yes."

"For decorating and boxing. I can keep the batter and the mixer over there, closer to the oven." She points to the stretch of counter on the other side of the kitchen. "That leaves the sink and everything on this side clear for you. I’ll need a refrigerator shelf too. Maybe two, depending on the orders."

"You can have those counters." I open the fridge with my good arm. There are meal containers, eggs, beer, and a bottle of something one of the guys left here that I’m not drinking. I move the beer into the door and put the containers together on the bottom shelf. "Those two."

She comes closer to look, the marker still in her hand. "You don’t have to move everything around tonight."

"It took ten seconds. Do you need freezer space?"

She nods and steps back while I close the fridge and open the freezer. I slide a bag of frozen vegetables beside the others to clear the bottom drawer. They’re all unopened. Our team nutritionist would have something to say about that.

"Bottom drawer," I tell her.

"Thank you." She looks inside, then steps back so I can close it. There’s a faint smear of pink frosting on her wrist.

"You’ve got frosting on your wrist."

"I know." She pulls her sleeve over it and turns back to the board, adding Island and oven counter beneath the fourth rule.

A few rose-gold strands have fallen out of her bun. I’d like to tuck them back, but she told me not to touch her last night. Clearing a freezer drawer probably hasn’t changed her mind.

"Last one. Ask before eating anything."

I glance at the box. "You said those were mine."

"They are."

"All six?"

"If you want." She sets the marker on the island and faces me. "If it’s in a box with a name on it, leave it alone. If it’s on a tray cooling, leave it alone. Sometimes I make extras, and you can have those. Ask first. I’m serious. If someone orders two dozen, they need to get two dozen. I can’t show up with twenty-three and explain that you were hungry."

"You underestimate how much this city loves me," I tell her. I’m kidding… sort of.

She glares at me.

"I’ll ask," I say. I’m not stealing food she needs to sell. Remembering a shirt before I walk out of my bedroom half asleep might take more effort.

She caps the marker, then looks around the kitchen. "What about your rules?"

"My rules?"

"It’s your apartment. What are your rules for me?"

I look around. The living room is clean again, and the guest bathroom is closed off. The bra one of the women abandoned on my couch is in a bag of clothes by the door. Rooks can figure out who owns what before I donate the whole thing.

"Lock the door when you leave. And leave me a clear path to the coffee maker. I’m not coordinated in the early morning until I’ve had caffeine."

Her fingers pause on the cap. "That’s it?"

I glance at her sweatshirt. "No Blue Devils gear in my apartment."

"We’ve been over this. My brother plays for them."

"Then wear it in his apartment. It’s blasphemous in here."

I can see that she wants to roll her eyes, but she does a good job resisting it.

"You let people flood your bathroom, but this is where you draw the line?"