Page 20 of Pretend You're Mine
As I eased myself to my feet, I pulled on the first shirt I could find and staggered out into the kitchen.
Why couldn’t I have just listened to my instincts and not slept with him again? Now, I felt crappier than ever and … Was that bacon?
Sure enough, Xander was poised over the stove, tending to some bacon and eggs. Not gone at all. Somehow, my half deaf ears hadn’t heard that he was actually still here – and cooking me breakfast to boot.
As I stood there staring at him, Xander turned to take me in with a smile. “What?”
“Just I….” There were about five different things I wanted to say, and I had words for none of them. “Breakfast?”
“Yeah, normally at home I have my personal chef deliver it to me on a gold-plated tray in bed, but I thought I’d slum it this time.” He winked.
“That’s top-grade bacon, I’ll have you know.” I gestured at the slabs of bacon he had sizzling on one frying pan, then to the other. “And those eggs are from a golden organic chicken.” We both cracked up at that.
“Whatever it is,” he said, “Smells damn good. This is nice, too. Normally, I’m in such a rush, I just grab a doughnut from whatever place is open and on the way.”
“Me too,” I said, checking my phone.
“Have to run?” Xander said.
“I’ve got an hour,” I said. Luckily, I’d had the foresight not to book any clients at eight A.M., knowing how much I despised mornings.
“What about you?” I asked.
Xander shook his head. “Decided to take a half day today.”
“Oh,” I said. Don’t you even think about it, I told myself. Don’t you dare even think about why he did that. “Any reason?”
He shrugged. “Got a family dinner planned for tonight. Turns out they decided to come early, and I need to clean my place.”
“Oh.” I sat down at the kitchen table, fiddling with a fork I’d left there yesterday. “Were you going to….”
“I know it’s super last-minute,” he said. “So, if you can’t go, that’s completely fine.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“The dinner’s at eight-thirty.” He rolled his eyes. “My parents always love to say that later dinner is classier. No matter the fact that I get hungry enough to eat a couch cushion waiting.”
I laughed. “Sounds awful.”
“It is.” Now Xander was rifling through the cupboards for plates.
“Not that one,” I told him, “Two doors down.”
Soon, we were sitting down at my circular kitchen table with our plates of bacon and eggs in front of us, Xander right smack beside me. My face and chest flushed with a feeling I didn’t want to name. I picked up the glass of orange juice he’d poured for me and took a sip, trying to cool myself off.
Calm down girl, I told myself. Don’t get any ideas.
We were silent for a minute. Xander picked his bacon before setting his fork down. “Listen Naomi.”
“I got it,” I said, holding up a hand to stop him. “This is just casual. Last night was great. There’s no point in making it more than it is. Neither of us is in a place settle down anytime soon.”
Although I had gone into saying the words with the intention of sounding like a strong, independent woman, after I said them, I was left feeling empty and paper-thin; like a papier-mâché figurine whose creator had just left her to start on a new piece.
Xander nodded hastily, not looking as pleased as I would’ve thought. “You look good in my shirt.”
I glanced down and smiled. “I really do, don’t I?” I teased.
Xander’s fingers smoothed down the collar, and I could’ve sworn there was real affection in those eyes. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can keep it. Looks better on you.”
“What, are you going to walk out of here and drive home shirtless?” I was busy unbuttoning it, when I remembered I had nothing on underneath.
Xander raised his eyebrows and a devilish smile came over his face. “Right here? Right now?”
For half a beat, I actually considered it, letting him kiss me straight on the lips, letting his hand go between the two lapels of the shirt that was now half unbuttoned. But at the last minute, I turned my cheek and got up.
“Be right back,” I said.
I quickly threw on some sweats and rejoined him in the dining room. When I came out, Xander made a distinctly displeased face.
“You don’t like my best sweats?” I said innocently.
Xander’s gaze roved to my ass. “Now that you mention it, your butt looks.…”
“Let us focus on breakfast,” I cut him off.
“Got it, Captain,” he said with a grin.
As we got eating, I couldn’t even take my own advice. My gaze kept flitting to him irresistibly, taking in his big-pupiled eyes and upturned mouth corners. Xander really was different when you got to know him better. Less closed off, more relaxed. Even a bit silly.
