Mixed Up(68)

"It's a spider."

"You're not helping." This was the worst lie ever. "I need to get rid of it, so I have to go. If I haven't heard from you by the time Parker starts work, I'll tell him to call his mom. Bye!" I hung up and threw my phone on the sofa like it was on fire.

"What the hell was that about?" Parker asked, spatula-flipper thingy in hand.

"You're still here!" It came out as more of a squeak than anything.

He stared at me for a moment. "Yeah, but I'm kind of stuck on the fact I've been both a stubbed toe and a spider this week."



       
         
       
        

I sunk my fingers into my hair. It was messy, and my fingers got caught on some small knots as they threaded through the locks. "Ryan called and woke me up." I summarized the phone call. "And I panicked when I saw you, because I didn't know you were still here."

"Why wouldn't I be here?"

"I fell asleep and thought you left!"

He shook his head, turning back to my cooker. "I fell asleep, too. I didn't wake up until your alarm went off this morning."

"Why didn't you wake me up? I'm late and I have to put orders through today."

"You didn't move," he said. "So I shut it off, took a shower, and came to make breakfast."

Now that he'd mentioned it, I could see his dark hair was wet. "Okay, well, you need to call your mom and tell her you aren't dead or anything."

"I'll text her soon. I can't do it right after Ryan's called you, can I? That won't look suspicious at all."

"Half an hour. Say I left you a voicemail to see if you were coming into work because you were MIA and you realized you forgot to tell her you weren't coming home."

"The fact I have to tell her I'm not coming home is, in itself, ridiculous."

"And that's why I live alone." I smiled and pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge. "What are you making?"

"Omelets. Yia-Yia left me omelet seasoning so I thought I'd try it."

I peered over his arm at the pan. "Where did you get the ingredients?" I knew for a fact I didn't have eggs in my fridge.

"Downstairs." He glanced at me as if the answer was obvious. Which it was, honestly. "Your fridge is both impressively empty and sadly understocked."

I shrugged and leaned against the counter. "I don't eat breakfast unless I'm forced to."

Parker slid the omelet out of the pan and onto a plate in one smooth movement. Then, he picked up the plate, and held it out to me. "Well, I'm forcing you to eat."

I might not have been a big breakfast eater, but I wasn't going to turn down food.

"I can deal with that." I smiled and reached for the plate, but before I could take it, he swung his arm out wide where I couldn't reach it. "Hey!"

He grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me toward him. I'd barely righted my footing when he dropped his mouth to mine and planted a slow, easy kiss on my lips. Releasing me like he'd done nothing out of the ordinary, he put the plate back between us and also handed me a knife and fork. "Morning."

I snatched the plate and cutlery before he could take it away again. "Thanks. I think?"

He laughed as I sat at the table. "Your good morning was screaming at me. The least you could do was kiss me." 

I rolled my eyes and stabbed my fork into the cheesy, melty, eggy goodness. "You should have announced yourself. Left your pants on the floor or something."

"I'll remember that for next time."

"Next time? This is going to happen again?" I was teasing him, because let's be honest. There were worse things in life than having sex with a hot guy, then waking up to find said hot guy making you breakfast while half-naked.

"Yep. I'll just remember to call my mom first."

I laughed, then moaned as I finally put the first forkful of breakfast into my mouth.

Parker side-eyed me. "If you want to finish your breakfast in peace, don't do that again."

I flipped him the bird. His other option was to just ignore me, but that would be too easy, of course. So, I deliberately moaned with my next mouthful. And the next. And the next.

All the while, I watched Parker. He kept glancing over his shoulder at me, his lips twitching up to one side. He knew what I was doing, and that was kind of annoying. It was less fun when it didn't bug him.

"You're annoyed that isn't annoying me, aren't you?" he asked, dumping cheese into the pan.

"Kind of." I picked up my water bottle. "I can't help but feel like my intentions were grand, but the execution of it was really not."