Page 91 of The Temporary Fiancée
We each take a minute to make ourselves a fajita. I overfill mine a little, and some of the extra meat spills out of the side. Her eyes are fixed on me as I take a bite.
It’s decent. She’s not the most amazing cook in the world.
But I don’t tell her that. Because it doesn’t matter. What matters is how sweet this gesture was.
With my mouth still full, I give her a thumbs up, and she beams.
“Not bad?”
“Not bad,” I say after I swallow. “Pretty damn good, actually.”
“Well, don’t give me all the credit,” she says, folding her own tortilla. “I didn’t exactly make up the recipe.”
“But you followed it to perfection.”
“Thanks,” she says, grinning. “Flatterer.”
“I mean it.”
“Sure you do.” She takes a bite, frowning pensively, then says, “You know, it’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be. I’m not much of a cook.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” I reply. “I’ve known plenty of people who can’t even operate a stove.”
She fires back immediately. “Yeah, of course you have,” she teases. “Lots of people in your social circles who just let the maids do all the cooking. You know, it’s a miracle you know how to hold a spatula.”
“Hey, I’m a pretty good cook.”
“Yeah, that’s the miracle,” she says, laughing.
As we finish our food, we chat about our days. She’s so easy to talk to; she seems comfortable in my presence, and the twoof us keep talking long after our plates are empty. She asks me about my father and about my workday.
She’s so sweet—so kind. She would be so easy to fall in love with.
The thought, when it comes, stops me in my tracks. I freeze up in the middle of describing the blueprints Shane is working on, staring at her as though she just struck me.
She frowns, tilting her head. “Reed? You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Yeah. Sorry. Just lost my train of thought.”
She smiles, though it’s a little uncertain. “If you say so. Do you wanna move to the living room? We should probably get these plates cleaned up.”
“Sure.” I get to my feet, but I’m moving like a zombie as we clear off the table.
What the hell is wrong with me? She would be easy to fall in love with? Am I losing it?
It’s such a strange thing for me to think. I’ve never been one to think about women that way. In the past, all of my flings have been just that—flings. Simple. No feelings, no issues.
Well, plenty of issues, I guess, but never because I had caughtfeelings.
I’m shocked by the thought, and unnerved, even as Olivia and I head to the living room and settle onto the couches. She keeps talking, but I can tell that she’s sensed the change in me. She seems hesitant now, and there’s a part of me that feels a pang at that.
I want to reassure her. Iwantto talk lightly with her, just like we were doing before.
But I can’t.
It occurs to me that Olivia may have been right from the beginning, when she insisted that we avoid sex while living together.
The sex is muddling things for me. Making me think things I shouldn’t. It’s never been an issue before, so I didn’t know to expect it, but now…
