Operation Foreplay (13 page)

I think he could tell I wasn’t going to back down. Shaking his head, he said, “You really are something.”

“So you keep telling me.”

Bags in hand, we walked back to the apartment.

“You go shower, I’ll put everything away.” He unpacked the bags and began filling the fridge. I watched him move easily through my kitchen before turning on music and heading to the shower.

“Leave me some hot water!” I heard him yell through the closed door.

“Can’t guarantee that. You might have to hop in here with me.” I laughed.

Silence.

“Jared?”

“Yeah?” He replied softly.

“I was kidding.”

“I know. Tease.”

He laughed and I continued to shampoo the sweat out of my hair. Of course, whenever I smelled the floral scent, I thought of him and the first day he was in my apartment. Freshly cleaned from a shower. Smelling of lavender. Naked and amazing.

The familiar tingle of want spread between my thighs. With nothing better to do, I decided to take my orgasm into my own hands.

I had no idea how long I was in there until I heard banging on the bathroom door, effectively pulling me away from the cliff I was so close to falling off.

“You know,” Jared yelled, “ten minutes is a shower. Any longer than that and you’re playing with yourself.”

Struck dumb by his words, I couldn’t think of a snappy retort. So I slipped on the bar of soap I dropped instead. And screamed as my elbow met the side of the tub with a loud thump.

“Mel! You okay?” I could hear him fiddling with the door lock.

“I fell. It hurts.” Tears stung my eyes and I bit back a yelp.

“Hold on.”

“No, don’t come in! I’m naked!” As I said it, he shouldered the door open and rushed to the tub, pulling the shower curtain open.

“You okay?”

“Fine. It just hurts.” I winced and tried to stand up. “What?”

“Nothing. Just lookin’ atcha naked is all.” His wiggling eyebrows ticked me off.

“Seriously? Get out. I can do this by myself.” I attempted, again, to get out of the tub.

He leaned down and placed his hands under my arms and lifted me up and out before wrapping a towel around me and sitting me on the toilet seat.

“Don’t move.”

He walked out of the bathroom before returning with the frozen bag of peas. Kneeling down in front of me he said, “Put this on it.”

“Thanks.” I mumbled.

“What was that?” He brought his hand to his ear.

“Thanks.”

“Wow. You’re welcome.”

“Did you really see me naked?” I don’t know why it mattered, but I’d rather him not have seen me naked for the first time crumpled in a heap at the bottom of my bathtub.

“Eh, didn’t see much. You were kind of curled into a ball. But I saw enough to imagine.” He winked.

“So you can close your eyes any time you want and imagine me naked?”

“Yep.” He closed his eyes. “Doin’ it right now.”

I leaned in and brushed my lips on his. He tasted sweaty from the gym. It was delicious.

His eyes snapped open. “What was that for?”

I stood, handing him the bag of peas. “Whatever you were just imagining, it’s wrong. I’m much hotter.”

With that, I walked to my bedroom, dropped the towel just inside the door, and tossed it into the hallway.

“Not fair! Now I’m going to have to take a long, cold shower.”

“You’re a big boy,” I yelled through my door. “I’m sure you can
hand
le yourself.”

“Such a tease,” I heard him say under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Get dressed!” He yelled back.

*  *  *

He met me in the kitchen thirty minutes later.

“Want a sandwich?”

“Sure.” He leaned against the counter and watched me.

I handed him his plate and a bottle of water before grabbing my own and sitting down next to him at the table.

“So, you’re gonna cook for us tonight?”

“Yep.” He took a large bite of his sandwich. “You really don’t cook?”

“Not really. Unless you count cereal, sandwiches, takeout, and the random microwaveable thing.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“Teach me, huh? So this isn’t a one-time thing?”

“I wish it were an all-the-time thing,” he said and I choked on my water.

“Huh?”

“I wish I could cook all the time. I love being in the kitchen. I love making all kinds of food. Crab cakes? They’re easy.”

So he
wasn’t
professing his desire to be my personal chef. “Then why don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” He took a sip of water. “Finance is the thing I majored in, the thing that will pay the bills. I’ve never had any formal chef training, so it’s not like I could get a job anywhere other than as a fry cook. It’s just a dream.”

“Tell me about this dream.”

He laughed easily. “Tell you, huh? You really want to know? My desire to spend time in the kitchen doesn’t make you want me any less, does it?”

“Depends on what you think less actually is,” I retorted, smiling.

“Yeah, well. I don’t know. I’d love to one day open my own place. Something small. Like a bistro or something and serve just a few items, have a changing menu, just so, you know, I could experiment.”

“And you’re good with experimentation?” I raised my eyebrows and saw immediately he latched on to the innuendo.

“Very good.” His eyes locked with mine and I had to look away.

“So why don’t you do it? Open a place, I mean?”

“Money, mostly. I don’t have the funds to open a place on my own.”

“What about a partner?” I took his plate and placed it with mine in the sink.

“Who do I know that would front the money for something like that? Take a chance on me? No, maybe one day, but now I’ll run numbers and put myself to sleep with spreadsheets until I can retire and do something with it.” As he leaned back and stretched, his shirt lifted slightly and I peeked at the hint of a happy trail. I closed my eyes for a minute, remembering where that trail led.

“You won’t know until you try. You know, Berk does real estate. He could help you find a place. And I’m in finance. I am sure I could find someone to back you.”

“Thanks, but it’s really not a thing. It will happen when it happens. Right now, I’ll stick to a nine-to-five and figure it out later.” He stood and grabbed his wallet.

“Where are you going?”

“To the liquor store. Need anything?”

“Wine.”

“What kind?”

“Surprise me.”

“I will.” He winked and headed out the door.

*  *  *

By nine o’clock that night, we were all sufficiently stuffed from the homemade crab cakes and roasted asparagus dinner. I was quite impressed. When he said he was making dinner, I originally thought he meant what I usually mean—ordering takeout. But he demanded I help him prepare dinner and it was kind of nice. A definite step away from my normal Friday night of either trolling the bar scene or curling up with a pint of Chinese and my television.

I’d been directed to pick through the crab for any rogue shells and I’d whisked lemon juice and olive oil for the asparagus.

It was nice to catch up with everyone and the fact that Jared was flirting with me all night didn’t escape me. Of course, it didn’t escape Sarah either, and when I went to grab another bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge, she cornered me in my small kitchen.

“What’s up with you and my brother?”

“Nothing, why?”

“I see the way he looks at you. You look at him the same way.”

“It’s true.” Caroline hopped up on the counter. “I think you’d make a cute couple.”

“Cute couple?” Sarah looked at Caroline like she had lost her marbles before returning her focus to me. “Did you bang my brother?” Sarah wasn’t angry, she was nosy, and I felt Caroline lean in, waiting for my answer.

I looked between the two of them and laughed. “Look at you two. A lady never talks.”

“Then tell me where I can find one.” Sarah laughed. “Spill.”

“Look, I haven’t banged your brother.” I looked toward Caroline. “I am not looking to be part of the cute couple club. He’s just staying here until he can move back to your apartment.”

“Look, I’m just saying, you could do worse.”

“And you have,” Caroline piped in.

“Oh, so now you want me involved with your brother? The other day you were shooting daggers at me.”

“I’ve had some time to think about it and I think the two of you would be good for each other. It’s almost as if you and he are the same, you know?”

“Well, for your information, I am not looking to get involved with your brother. Have I checked out the goods? Yes. Am I impressed with said goods? Immensely. But that’s not where I am right now.”

“Zac again? You know that won’t end well,” Caroline whispered.

“You know I am a grown woman and can decide for myself what will and what won’t end well, right?” I pulled out the cork and filled my glass.

“Of course we know that. But you can’t keep doing this, you know. It isn’t right.”

“Not everyone can live the dream above a bar with a boyfriend and a dog,” I said to Caroline with a bit too much snark.

“Ouch,” Sarah interjected before I could continue. “We’re just saying. You’re going to be thirty. Not saying you need to be in a relationship, but one with a married man isn’t the best option.”

“How can I forget that when I have the both of you yapping about morals in my ear every damn day? Did you forget how Caroline actually met Brian? Pretty sure she threw away her morals for a bit before she landed him.”

“No need to be a bitch.” Caroline hopped down from the counter.

“I’m sorry. Look. I’m not saying you two are wrong. I’m just not there yet. I get what you’re saying, I really do. Maybe Zac
isn’t
right for me.”

“Finally.” Sarah threw up her hands.

“I’m not making any promises. But I will think more about what you’re saying. Deal?”

“Deal.” Caroline and I hugged it out. Sarah jumped in.

“Hey!” Drew called out. “Don’t keep that shit under wraps. We wanna see.”

“Speak for yourself,” Berk offered.

Laughing, I grabbed Caroline’s boob as Sarah squeezed my ass.

The girls and I were clearing the table and loading up the dishwasher when the buzzer sounded. Jared hopped up. “Yeah?” he spoke into the intercom.

“Um, I’m looking for Melody. Melody Ashford.”

I stiffened. I knew exactly who it was. The voice sent shivers through me.

“Who’s this?”

“Zachary Waterman.”

Everyone in the apartment turned and stared. The silence was uncomfortable.

“What is he doing here?” Berk asked.

“No idea,” I whispered. “Let him up.”

“Come on up.” Jared stiffened and pressed the button to unlock the door. No one moved for what seemed like an eternity. The knock at the door startled me.

Smoothing down my pants and fluffing my hair, I walked through the sea of eyes and felt every single one of them. I opened the door to find Zac, disheveled and drunk, a far cry from the boxer shorts of earlier that morning.

“What are you doing here?”

“Melody, I need to speak to you.” He rushed in before noticing everyone looking at him. “Can we talk in private?” His words slurred and he gripped my arm a little too tightly. Jared stepped forward and I waved him off. Zac’s other hand gripped a paper bag with contents that would have burst into flames if someone lit a match.

“Yeah, sure.” I ushered him into the hallway. “Be right back.” I closed the door behind us. “What’s going on?”

“Ah, Melody.” He leaned into me.

I crinkled my nose when he breathed out. “You’ve been drinking. A lot. This isn’t like you. What’s wrong?”

He slouched against the wall, his wrinkled shirt untucked, unusual for the well-put-together man who told me he loved me for the first time only days ago.

“I don’t know how to say this.”

My stomach dropped. “Say what, Zac?”

“I love you. You know that, right?” He placed his hand on my cheek.

“I do know that. What’s going on? You’re scaring me. This isn’t like you.”

“Tell me you love me back.”

“You’re drunk. I will not say it back to someone who is drunk.”

“Then I’ll just say it—”

“Say what?”

“Rita is pregnant.” The words punched me in the chest and I thought my heart would stop.

“What?”

“I told her I was going to leave her. I told her I was in love with someone else. She told me she was pregnant. I thought she was lying, trying to get me to stay. But she took a test. We went to the doctor’s. She is pregnant. Eight weeks to be exact.”