Chapter Eight Madison #2
I peek up at him, aware that I’m glowing like a lightbulb. “Is it customary for the restaurant owner’s mom to buy the new chef a bed set?”
“Fine.” He huffs against a grin. “I guess it does have its perks to be friends with the owner.”
“I knew it.” I let my eyelids fall shut, feeling as close to ecstasy as I’ve been in a while. “You have no idea how good it is to be free of Bryce. And Sammy is going to sleep so good without hearing all the noisy sex every night.”
“I’m glad for Sammy.”
My palms drift over the soft fabric, realizing I have never had my own place before.
I went from sharing a house with my sisters to living with the roommate from hell.
There are a million things I can do alone at home!
Walk around naked. Sing as loud as I want at midnight.
Use up all the hot water in the shower. Arrange the fridge exactly how I want.
“Look away for a second,” I tell James, who is watching me with a bemused smile.
“Why?”
“So I can kick my feet and squeal like a child without you judging me.”
“I won’t judge you.”
“You might. Turn around.”
He complies with a dramatic sigh, and after doing exactly what I promised, I sit up and collect myself.
“All right.” He turns back. “Get up. We’re on to the next.”
“No.” I hug the ruffle pillow to my chest. “I want to stay here forever. I’m never leaving. You can’t make me.”
He tilts his head, watching me closely. “Okay then. As long as we’re just sitting around, we can talk about what happened back there in the meeting.”
My arms slacken, pillow falling to my lap. “You noticed?”
He gives me a look that says it all. “You were pretty obvious.”
“Really? I thought you didn’t see me.”
“I saw you.”
Oh god. Now what? Deny it all and make everything weird, or confess and also make it weird? Since it’s going to be uncomfortable either way, I decide the truth is better. I already have too many lies weighing on me.
“Okay, look. It just confused me for a minute. I didn’t know you’d be getting out of the shower when I came upstairs.
And then I guess I was acting weird downstairs because .
. . well, I . . . I didn’t expect you to look so damn hot in a towel.
” His brows pull together. “But can you really blame me? Look at you! Have you always had these muscles? Good lord, you’re a sex pistol, James.
But don’t worry, it doesn’t have to be weird.
I was just . . .” My head teeters back and forth.
“Okay, I was a little nervous that I haven’t had sex in a very long time because of my celibacy and that I might feel tempted to take things too far with you when we’re alone.
But I swear, I’m good now! I won’t let my weird moment of attraction—”
“Madison . . .” James butts in, shifting on his feet, a tight smile pulling his full lips. “I should tell you I was referring to you lying to Tommy about liking the direction of the restaurant so far.”
“Oh.” And then, “Oh. Oh shit. I’m so sorry.
” A wave of crimson rushes over my face, and suddenly I can’t stay seated any longer.
I shoot up and splay my hands over my heated cheeks.
“Please forget I said any of that, okay? Because I promise . . . that attraction meant nothing. You are and will always be just James to me. This will not get in the way of our working relationship. Besides, it’s gone now. It was only a silly little moment.”
He stares at me a beat, looking uncomfortable and on edge before he exhales. “Okay. Great.”
“Yeah?”
He nods silently, looking like he’s shoving down nausea now. Is that really his reaction to me thinking he’s hot? Well, that’s one way to cure my crush.
“Yeah.” Another big sigh. “We’re adults, Madison. Attraction here and there is a part of life. We don’t have to make too much out of it.”
“Exactly! And I think I just got confused because I’m . . . well, I’m not used to having guy friends. Platonically. But as you heard me tell Tommy back there, I’m sort of in a different season.”
“A season of celibacy—I heard.”
“Yes. And so after our phone call, and then our pinky promise . . .” I shake my head, wishing it would Etch A Sketch this moment away. “This is unfamiliar territory for me. But I like it a lot. I’m glad we’re friend-friends now.”
He gives a half grin and most of the tension in the room dissolves. “Is that our official title?”
“Yes. And I’m going to overuse it but you’re going to have to be okay with it because we’re . . .”
“Friend-friends?”
“Bingo!”
He scoffs. “You’re dreaming if you think being friends with me absolves you from any roasting or complaining.” He turns and waves for me to follow him to the door.
Once out of his view, my shoulders sag with relief before I shuffle along behind him. I feel like I just outran a train. “Okay, but like eighty/twenty, right?”
“Which is which?”
“Eighty percent lavishing me with compliments and kindness. Twenty percent complaining and/or roasting.”
“Oof. You’re in for a shock.”
“No,” I breathe out. “The reverse?”
He winces. “Afraid so.”
“Is it too late to rescind my friend-friends offer?”
He clicks out the side of his mouth in an aw shucks way. “Sorry, yes. We pinky promised.”
“Damn.”
And then I almost run into his expansive back as he suddenly hits the brakes and turns to face me again. “You know the drill. Close ’em.”