Grabbing the doorknob, I walk out to find Drew. Her bedroom door is closed, so I knock on it, feeling another tinge of guilt for having broken her privacy earlier. I hear her padding toward me. She opens the door with raised eyebrows, blue eyes guarded.
“Yes?”
“You hungry?”
She pauses. “Actually, yes. Very.”
“Let’s make some dinner. Watch a movie. Just friends.”
She stares at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m tricking her. “Okaaaaay.”
I hit the nearest wall and flip around, calling over my shoulder, “Great.”
DREW
Breakfast for dinner is one of my favorites. When I suggested it he told me he feels that way, too. Then he tore off his shirt and tossed it onto the floor, telling me he prefers to be shirtless when he’s home.
“I noticed,” I smiled.
Now we’re easily moving around each other while he sautés spinach, ham and onions for the omelets, and I fry up red potatoes with garlic, basil, salt and pepper.
“Bummer we don’t have any bacon,” I tell him as I add a little more salt.
“Mmmm. Bacon,” he mutters. “Did you go to college?”
“This is not something I’m proud of, but no.”
Jake flips the sizzling contents of his pan as he says, “I didn’t either. But I knew I was staying in construction. Everything I learned was on the job. Been working with Uncle Don since I was fifteen.”
Reaching around him, I slide open the utensil drawer and grab a spatula. My arm brushes his naked lower back and electricity sparks. Jake glances at me as I retract my arm and turn over the potatoes. “Ten years at your job and you’re only twenty-five? Do you still love it?”
He makes a face like that’s a crazy question. “Fuck yeah! That’s what men are meant to do. It charges up my battery!” His eyes drop to my pan. “You’re turning over every single one of those?”
I nod, carefully poking each potato wedge until it rolls onto its soft side. “I like them to be evenly crisp.”
I sneak a look at Jake and catch him smirking at me. A flush fills my cheeks and he laughs, shakes his head and places his pan on a dead burner. Cracking eggs into a fresh one, he hums to himself. We cook the rest of the meal in an easy silence. Without asking what the other wants to do in terms of duties, I set the table while he pours the orange juice. I turn on some music. He piles the food onto our plates. I butter the toast. He takes them from me and places them next to the omelets, says, “I’ve got it,” and carries both of our plates to the dining table.
“Delicious,” I say after a few devoured bites. I didn’t realize I was so hungry, but he definitely worked up my appetite earlier. It’s hard to keep the images of him groaning in ecstasy away as he sits across from me just hours later. Friends. How am I going to be friends with this stunning man?
“When was the last time you talked to your husband?”
I wince, because after what I did today, it’s hard to hear that word. “He called a couple nights ago.”
Jake’s fork freezes and his eyes meet mine rather violently. “He did? What’d he want?”
I shrug it off. “Wanted to ask if I’d just give him the house outright since he earned the money to pay for it.”
“Fucking prick.”
I stare at him, because he literally growled that. I pick at my food and tell him, “Yeah. Edward wasn’t always that way, though.”
“Yeah he was.”
“What do you mean?” I squirm in my seat. Jake’s clearly angry, but this subject is still too near to my heart. Way too painful. He must sense that, because he goes back to eating, taking a couple slower bites before he changes the subject. “You ever been to the Botanical Gardens?”
Stabbing a couple potato wedges on my fork, I say, “I parked there today to go to Piedmont Park.”
“Yeah, that’s what made me think of it. Ever been?” I shake my head. “Let’s go tomorrow after work. I think you’d like it, Drew.”
He goes back to eating like the invitation was nothing. It sounds like a date.
What’s he playing at?
I watch him eat as if nothing is amiss. After a couple bites myself, I softly say, “Okay.”
“You want to carpool to work?” He glances up as he’s about to drink some orange juice. “It’s not a hard question.”
I smile, “Sure. Yeah. That’d be great.”
He nods, takes a sip, then asks like it’s nothing, “Was your husband the only other guy you’ve been with?”
I drop my fork, and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Why would you think that?”