Chapter 8 #3
“Hi.” Her tone is peppy as she slides out a chair and takes a seat across from Cole. Her dark brown eyes are bright, and her smile remains as they shift to me.
“Hey, Carly. This is Ryder. She’s—”
“We’re living together,” I blurt, jumping in like I bust through doors.
In my peripheral vision, Cole has turned into a sloth. His attention shifts to me, so slowly, but I can’t look at him. I sense the subtle curl of his lips, which I have no doubt turns into a grin that would make any other woman’s stomach do a flying somersault.
Carly’s eyes grow wide before her mouth lifts into an uncomfortable smile.
Is it my awkward bluntness or that she doesn’t like the idea of me living with him?
Cole clears his throat, recovering quickly, and gets down to business. “So, you have next month’s menu and wanted to discuss some new options?”
Carly dips her freckled nose, fumbling around in her bag, and pulls out several folders. She lays them in front of Cole and walks him through some kind of package details. I don’t miss the way she watches him as he reads over the material.
I sip my coffee and divide my attention between the room, the door, and her, but I sense her inspecting me when she doesn’t think I’m paying attention.
“Here’s the new menu I’ve put together.” Carly hands over an iPad. “As always, it includes all of your specifications. I already selected your favorites, but we can add some variety if you’d like.”
Cole takes the tablet and scrolls. He leans into my space, oblivious or ignoring Carly’s eagle eyes. “Are you going to let me buy your meals?” He looks at me, that smirk reappearing.
Carly’s gaze bounces between us.
“Every meal is delivered to your set preferences?” I peek at the menu on the iPad, and it’s stuff I can’t even pronounce. It’s all healthy, and I’m certain it’s ridiculously expensive and probably tastes like shit.
“I have a particular diet, and this helps with my schedule.” He tips the tablet toward me. “You can pick whatever you want.”
I stare at him. Is he serious?
By the look on his face, he is. “You. . .never cook?”
His long fingers scratch the dark stubble covering his jaw. “I don’t really have time to cook, at least not the way I eat.”
I stare again, not giving a single crap if I’m being weird.
I don’t eat a lot of junk food. My body is often my defense, and like any weapon, it only works as well as it’s been maintained.
But to never make your own food. What if you want chicken instead of steak, or you’ve had a shit day and need a pan full of mac and cheese?
“Umm. . .I’ll just order groceries and pick them up. Your kitchen is probably longing for a workout.”
Cole’s eyes wander over my face, making me feel a tad self-conscious. I almost tell him to knock it off, but he slides the iPad across the table.
“You know what? You can cancel this month. You’re paid through the year, so save these selections, and I’ll be in touch about next month.” His eyes bounce to mine again.
Carly holds the iPad, her thick eyebrows tipped inward like she, too, isn’t quite sure what’s happening here.
Cole taps the table. “Anything else you need from me?”
Carly shifts in her seat. “Uh. . .no.” She grabs her purse, drops her folders inside, then pauses. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get the total, balanced nutrition necessary?” Her cheeks turn just the tiniest bit pink, and she tries to force a smile.
“I think we can manage,” Cole says confidently, and I’m glad one of us is because I have no idea what is happening.
He grabs his phone and his empty cup, signaling we’re done here.
We stand, and Cole thanks Carly as she reminds him she’ll be available if needed.
I hit the fresh air first, checking up and down the street. We walk to the car with Cole tucked between me and the buildings.
“See, she’s innocent,” Cole says, his long legs matching my stride.
“Maybe. I need a background check first.”
He huffs a laugh. “Really? I just gave her the month off.”
At the car, he waits for me to inspect it before climbing in.
“So, who’s cooking dinner first?” he asks, pulling away from the curb.
I check the mirrors. “Cooking for you is not part of my job description. You should’ve kept up with your personally prepared fancy-ass meals.”
“Fine. I’ll cook first, but we have to set some ground rules. I only eat whole foods, and I hate pork and anything with mushrooms.”
“Clean eating and picky. You’re sounding a bit high-maintenance, Matthews.”
He ignores my sarcasm. “Are you allergic to anything?”
I side-eye him. He’s serious about this cooking thing. “Just to sleeping across the hall from strange men.”
Cole stops at a red light; those damn almost purple-blue eyes linger on me. I meant it as a joke, but his face tells me he sees straight through to the truth.
My stomach tucks itself in tightly.
He focuses back on the road. “Then it’s a good thing after the game tomorrow, you and I will be a whole lot more than strangers.”
He said the teenage girls in the window were only the beginning. Tomorrow, it will be a stadium full of his fans.
This is my job. I can do this.
The corners of his mouth lift, and somehow, it’s as if it has some magical power that makes the idea a little more tolerable.