“I just never imagined that you were so domestic. Washing dishes, cooking dinner, doing yard work. Any other hidden talents I should know about?” He opened his mouth, a devilish glint in his eyes. She realized what he was going to say so she cut him off, “And don’t say your amazing sex skills. We’ve already covered that one.”
He blew out a breath and raised an eyebrow suggestively, “Good massages?”
“So I’ve heard,” she murmured in response.
He smiled, moving away from her to dry the pan he had just washed. “Anything in particular you want for breakfast?”
Olivia shrugged, “What do you normally have?”
“Pancakes.”
She raised a brow in surprise, “You have pancakes? I imagined you eating a can of spinach or cottage cheese and turkey bacon. Or a glass of raw eggs at the very least.”
He laughed but admitted, “I do eat egg whites a lot during the week. But on weekends, I go for pancakes or waffles.”
Her lips quirked up, “Count me in then. What can I help you with?” But then she suddenly remembered his ‘territorial kitchen people’ remark at her bakery. “Or are you afraid I’ll misplace the dried oregano?”
He shot her a playful look and remarked, “I don’t know if I’d let you help if you think dried oregano and pancakes have any relation with each other.”
It was hard not to laugh around him. Olivia realized now that she did it quite a lot. She probably laughed more in the past week with him than she had in the past couple of months combined. It warmed but sobered her at the same time. She didn’t know where they stood after all. She didn’t even know how long he wanted this little arrangement to last.
“You can grab the milk and eggs out of the fridge. I’ll get the dry stuff,” he said, already walking towards his pantry.
She nodded and walked over to the fridge. She stopped short though as she reached for the handle, her heart leaping in excitement. Finally, she thought. There were two pictures tacked on his fridge. Personal pictures. Probably the only two she would find on display in his entire home.
Extremely curious, she peered up at them closely. One was a photo of a beautiful older woman. She was dressed in a simple black dress that accentuated her hourglass figure, her hands clasped demurely in front of her. Her dark hair was loose in waves around her shoulders and she had the most mesmerizing bright green eyes.
“My mother,” came Alex’s deep voice behind her.
“She’s beautiful,” Olivia replied quietly, only slightly startled that she hadn’t heard him creep up on her.
She could see the resemblance, but Olivia assumed that he probably looked more like his father. Alex had his mother’s hair but beyond the almond shape of his mother’s eyes, there weren’t that many similarities. Alex’s face was too masculine with his sharp jaw line and strong nose. His mother, on the other hand, looked downright delicate, as though she were made of glass.
But as her eyes shifted to the other picture, she immediately knew what side of the family Beth was on.
The second picture was of a group of girls—Beth and the infamous three sisters Alex had told her about—with a handsome couple. She realized immediately the woman must be his mother’s sister. They looked so much alike; it was hard to believe they weren’t twins. But there was no doubt that Beth and her sisters inherited their mother’s beauty.
“I don’t think I need to tell you who they are,” Alex said, sounding amused. Olivia relaxed a bit, glancing up at him. She wondered if he was uncomfortable with her snooping and whether he would freeze up on her again. But he seemed calm, even though he stood like a statue behind her.
“No, I guessed that for myself,” she said smiling as she tugged open the fridge. She was happy he didn’t turn cold on her again, but she didn’t want to risk anything by pestering him about his family.
One step at a time, she thought.
She wasn’t surprised to see an organized fridge and she easily located the eggs and milk, pulling them out and setting them on the counter.
Alex was uncharacteristically quiet as he measured out the dry ingredients. Olivia touched his arm softly, suddenly worried she misjudged his reaction. But when he glanced at her, he smiled apologetically and leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry, darling,” he murmured. He seemed to shake off whatever was bothering him and returned to measuring out another cup of flour. “Do you have anything going on this weekend?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“I usually pop in my shop for a couple hours to make sure everything’s fine. But other than that, no,” she replied, wondering what he was thinking.