So when he texted me later that week, it was with shaky fingers that I pondered what to write back.
Braydon: Hey gorgeous. How’s your day?
Me: Hey. It’s fine. It’s been a long day and I could use a massage.
Braydon: Let me come over tonight and I’ll give you a gentle massage from the inside out. ;)
This was how it started. Naughty texts. Flirty comments. My heart squeezed tightly in my chest. There was no denying I wanted to see him tonight. To see his big smile light up his face and watch his playful eyes dance on mine. I wanted to poke fun at him and hear him chuckle. I just liked being near him.
I still hadn’t responded when he sent another text.
Braydon: Shall I bring dinner again?
Me: Sure. I’m craving Italian.
Braydon: One extra-large Italian sausage cumming right up. See you at 7.
I laughed out loud and stuffed my phone back in my purse. Tonight should be interesting.
• • •
When Braydon arrived promptly at seven, I was wrestling a cork from a bottle of wine in the kitchen. I needed some liquid courage tonight. When the buzzer sounded from the intercom on my wall, I abandoned the wine to buzz him in. A few moments later, I pulled open the front door to discover a deliciously polished Braydon. Gone were his beat-up Converse sneakers and his vintage tees. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and dark gray slacks, his hair neatly combed and ready to be tugged on. I held my breath as I drank him in and his lips smirked.
“Hiya, kitten.”
“Come in.” I pushed open the door and he followed me inside. I headed back to the kitchen to finish fighting with the wine bottle. Braydon chuckled at me and promptly removed it from my hands, easily finishing the job and pouring each of us a glass.
We sipped our wine while Braydon unloaded the cartons of food he’d brought. Fettuccine Alfredo with chicken, rosemary Parmesan breadsticks, spaghetti carbonara, and antipasto salad. Once again he’d brought more than enough food for just us. I could get used to eating delicious leftovers from our takeout dinners. I had just finished the Thai.
The aroma was heavenly as he dished up hearty servings into the bowls I provided. “This smells great. Where’d you get it?”
“Giovanni’s. It’s a hole in the wall, but the food is fantastic.” He twirled a forkful of pasta and held it up, intending to feed me the bite. “Open,” he commanded.
I obeyed, accepting a mouthful of spaghetti. My eyes slipped closed, savoring the subtle flavors of homemade pasta, black pepper, and crisp bacon. It was delicious. And I liked that he fed me. I accepted another bite while Braydon’s eyes watched my mouth. The temperature in my apartment seemed to ratchet up in an instant. I licked my bottom lip and chewed slowly, swallowing the bite of food while his breathing grew shallow.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice low and commanding.
I nodded slowly. It was as if he could tell when I was retreating into my head to overthink everything and knew when to distract me to keep me from questioning things between us.
“Good. Let’s eat.” We sat down at the table that I used so rarely, though we’d used it two times together this week already. We even had our own spots at the table. A little routine was developing.
“You’re dressed up,” I noticed, taking him in.
“I had casting calls today. Dress to impress.”
I nodded. Made sense.
“How was your day?” he asked, taking a bite of his dinner.
“Good, actually. I’ve been giving our arrangement more thought, too.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, you want to be penis pals . . .”
His brow creased as he squinted at me. “Not exactly. I hope you don’t have a penis, kitten.”
I frowned at him. “Fine then. You want to be best friends with my vagina.”
His head cocked to the side and a slow smile overtook his mouth. “I thought I already was.”
I rolled my eyes. “Unfortunately, you do seem to be.” My eyes dropped to my plate and I twirled strands of pasta onto my fork. I didn’t know how to ask about our arrangement and stared down at my food, poking at the lump of pasta, hoping he’d pick up the conversation where I’d dropped it. Only he didn’t.
“Eat up.” Braydon grinned, his dimple peeking at me. “You’ll need your energy.”
Yes, sir. “So bossy.” I shook my head.
We kept up a casual conversation through dinner, enjoying good food, pleasant company, and the easy conversation that flowed so well between us. But I didn’t find the courage to bring up our arrangement again. And Braydon didn’t push it. This was all so new to me. I was hoping he’d take the lead, but so far he seemed content to discuss my job, local sports teams—anything but why he was here.