8. Penelope
8
PENELOPE
I flop onto the couch after cleaning up the kitchen. I can’t shake the feeling that Nick went outside because he wanted to get away from me. Have I been too much of a burden on him?
I blow a raspberry as I stare up at the ceiling and the wooden beams connecting the walls. I don’t know what else I could have done to piss him off. I was trying to be nice to him. Is he mad that I keep bringing up his dad? I just really want to know what is going through his mind. But I don’t think I am ever going to get anything. That man keeps everything behind a stone fortress around his heart.
He seems so different than the Nick I knew growing up. This one seems harder, darker, like he lost the light somewhere along the way in the last few years. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s home. I only know he’s here for his dad, but that’s it. I never knew his relationship with his family in the past. I wasn’t privy to that information. I just knew that he spent all his free time hanging out at our house when he was younger. I never thought too much about it, but maybe there is something there.
I still can’t believe that he is the one who found me on the side of the road. I mean I am glad it was him and not some creepy old man or serial killer. But seems like such a strange coincidence. And the fact that Wesley doesn’t even know he’s here. I’m tempted to tell him. Because I think he would be happy as hell to know his best friend only lives a few hours away. But I would feel guilty if I told him. Not that Nick is more important than my brother. It’s just that he gave me that knowledge freely last night, and that’s not something you just share with the world.
My phone rings, and it scares the shit out of me. I forgot that Nick gave me the Wi-Fi yesterday, so my phone actually works now.
I grab it off the coffee table and see Dad calling me.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Penny Pie, how are you?”
“Hi, Dad. I’m okay. Just kinda bored sitting around here.”
“Nick isn’t keeping you company?”
“He is,” I say. “But he’s outside right now plowing. It’s kinda weird just sitting in his house alone.”
“Maybe you should be out there helping him.”
I laugh. “Come on, really Dad? You know how useful I am with a shovel.”
He chuckles in the background. “I was only kidding. Maybe you should make him some lunch or volunteer to make dinner.”
“Dad, this is me we are talking about. You know the extent of my cooking is putting chicken nuggets in the air fryer. There is no way I am burning down Nick’s house in an attempt to make him dinner.”
“Just giving you some ideas, sweetheart.”
“Terrible ones!”
“Well, I just wanted to reach out and see how you were doing. I see your phone is working. I meant to call you on the number you called from yesterday, and it slipped my mind.”
“The Wi-Fi is working here.”
“Good! Maybe you should watch a movie then.”
I shrug. “I suppose I could.”
“I doubt you’ve been keeping up with the weather, but it looks like this storm should pass overnight. You should be able to come home tomorrow, if the state clears the roads.”
“Oh good,” I try to say without disappointment. I wish I could spend more time with Nick, not that I am going to tell my parents that.
“I can come pick you up if the roads are cleared, you just let me know.”
“Sounds good, Dad.”
“You sure you’re doing okay?”
“Oh yeah, totally fine,” I lie.
“Okay good, sweetheart. Well find something nice to do for Nick since he was able to take care of you.”
I nod. “Yeah, I will.”
“All right, well I’ll call you tomorrow with a road and weather update. Love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.” I hang up the phone and toss it back onto the coffee table. I do want to spend more time with Nick but for all the wrong reasons.
I can also think of plenty of nice things I can do for him. Most of them involve me naked, and I am one hundred percent sure that is not what my dad meant.
I stand up and stretch and head to the window to look at the progress Nick’s made on the driveway. There seems to be about three feet of snow already, and it’s supposed to snow for almost another twenty-four hours. I’m sure we’ll get at least six feet if not more.
I watch as he rides the ATV he has with a plow attached to it. He makes his way down the long driveway clearing up sections of snow at a time.
Those damn butterflies return to my stomach, and I hate the feeling not because I don’t like having this high school crush on the guy but because I know nothing will ever come of it. Nick doesn’t see me the way I see him, and he surely does not have any desire to sleep with me.
I let out a sigh mixed with a groan and start to pace around the house.
What the hell am I supposed to even be doing?
I could make some muffins for Nick, but I don’t even know if he likes muffins. Although, who doesn’t like muffins? But I doubt he has a muffin tin, and I am sure I’ll fuck it up somehow.
Maybe I can make cookies. Surely, I can’t mess those up, right?
I decide I may as well try. I dig around in the kitchen looking for anything that I could use to make cookies.
Bingo! A bag of chocolate chips. This can’t be that hard, right? I do work in a bakery. And I see the pastry chef making cookies all the time. I can easily do this. I think.
I read the back of the bag of chocolate chips because who knew there was a cookie recipe on the back and start to gather the ingredients. I’m happy that Nick seems to have all the ingredients except for baking powder, but it only needs half a teaspoon so I don’t think it will matter if I leave that out, seems pointless.
I start to mix the wet ingredients together and feel like I am on the Great British Baking Show. I got this, I am a champion.
I put all the dry ingredients together and then dump them into the bowl with the wet ingredients. I turn on the hand mixer, and an explosion of flour happens. It’s all over my face and in my eyes. I can’t even see. I spit out flour and try to wipe some of the mess from my face when I notice that it didn’t just get all over me but all over the damn kitchen. It’s on the counters and the cabinets and the floor.
Clearly there is something wrong with the mixer, how the hell else would this happen?
Maybe I just need to turn the speed down on it?
I do that but still flour gets everywhere. I have no idea what I am doing wrong but decide to just keep going because what other choice do I have.
I somehow manage to get the dough fully mixed, although I don’t think it’s right. It seems lumpy and just not the right texture at all compared to the dough I’ve seen in the bakery. I just shrug it off and add the chocolate chips into the mixture, using my hands to mix it all together.
The easiest part is putting them on the baking sheet. I am just about over this whole baking thing. A complete reminder of why I don’t do this.
I roll each cookie into a ball and place them on the cookie sheet. At least I know to keep them a few inches apart, I do remember something from what my mom taught me as a kid whenever we used to make Christmas cookies.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I jump and nearly drop the tray of cookies. I slide them into the oven and then turn around to face Nick.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
He snorts and then looks around the kitchen. “Making a goddamn mess.”
I grimace as I take in the kitchen. “It’s not that bad.”
Nick walks up to me and laughs as he brushes what I can only guess is flour off my cheeks. “You look like you’ve been outside in the snow for a few hours. You are covered in flour.”
“Well, I put the blame on that thing.” I point to the mixer.
“What did the mixer do to you?”
“This!” I shout.
He throws his head back laughing. “I think this was all you, Penny. Let me guess, you turned the mixer on high with a bowl full of flour.”
I lift my hands into a shrug.
“Well, I know why you don’t have a job as a baker at the bakery.”
“I take offense to that. These might be the best cookies you’ve ever tasted.”
He shakes his head at me as he walks away. “I’m going to change into some warm clothes, and then I’ll help you clean this mess up.”
“It’s not that big of a mess.”
He points to the cabinets and then the ceiling. I look up and notice there is flour and maybe some egg on the ceiling.
“I still blame the mixer.”
He smirks and nods his head. “Absolutely, all the mixer’s fault.”
I watch him as he walks away and sigh. Ugh, I was hoping he would still be outside for twenty more minutes so I could have cleaned this mess up first.
I set the bowl of dough to the side and realize I didn’t set a timer for the cookies in the oven since I was distracted by Nick.
I open the oven and check the cookies. They barely look like anything has happened yet, so I start the timer for twelve minutes. That should be good.
I get to work on wiping the flour off all the cabinets and counter when Nick walks back in. I try not to stare at him in a new pair of sweats that I swear are tighter than the ones he was wearing yesterday. These showcase every single inch of his thick thighs, and if he wasn’t wearing boxers, I’m sure there would be a perfect outline of his dick. Goddamn gray sweatpants. They should be illegal!
He grabs a broom out of the closet and starts sweeping the floor up. But stops abruptly, staring at me.
“What?”
He points at my feet.
“What about them?”
“Pen, you are tracking flour everywhere. I’m glad you haven’t left this kitchen. Or else it would be all over the house.”
I look down and sure enough see footprint-shaped flour spots all over the floor.
“Why are you not wearing socks?”
“I was sliding around as I was trying to bake, so I took them off.”
He shakes his head and leans the broom against the counter. “What am I going to do with you?”
“I was trying to do something…what are you doing?” I shriek as I am suddenly upside down, my body thrown over Nick’s shoulder.
“You are going to make a bigger mess cleaning up than the one you made trying to bake.”
I bang against his very hard back. He is literally a stone wall. How much does he work out?
“This isn’t funny. Put me down.”
“I’ll put you down once you’re in the shower, and you are no longer trashing my house.”
“I didn’t mean to. It just kind of happened.”
He scoffs.
“Well, you aren’t getting any of the cookies.”
“Try me.”
I groan in frustration as he walks me into his en suite bathroom and sets me down in the shower.
“You clean yourself up. I’ll take care of the kitchen.”
“But what about the other batch?”
“I’ll handle it.”
I frown at him, but he just rolls his eyes at me and walks away.
As I strip out of the clothes I changed into this morning, a poof of flour goes into the air.
Okay, maybe I am covered in more flour than I thought I was.
I turn on the water and bask in the heat. There is nothing I love more than a hot shower, and this shower feels amazing. I don’t know why, it’s nothing special. Maybe it’s because it’s Nick’s, and I’m a freak and just like being in his shower.
I uncap the bottles lining the wall. The shampoo and conditioner both have the same fresh scent with a touch of mint. I open the body wash next and nearly melt into the wall. This is what I’ve been smelling on him, in the sheets, on his clothes. It’s woodsy and musky and smells like the outdoors but also just smells like a hot sexy man. Like how I imagine that guy on TikTok smells who chops wood. Except I have my own wood chopper now. I think he chops wood at least. But he’s also not mine.
I sigh in disappointment. My crush is getting the better of me today. I wish Nick was mine but know that he never will be.
When I return to the kitchen, it’s immaculate. Like I never even attempted to make cookies at all. There is also a pile of flat, burned cookies sitting on a plate.
“What happened to my cookies?” I ask Nick who’s sitting at the kitchen table twirling a pen in his fingers while looking at what looks like a crossword puzzle book.
“I don’t know. I saw the timer on your phone on the counter and waited for it to go off.”
I really didn’t think the cookies had been in the oven that long before I turned the timer on, but I guess I was wrong.
I pick up one of the cookies from the plate, and it’s as hard as a rock. “Ugh, these are no good.”
Nick smirks at me. “Oh, I know. Just thought you wanted to see what the result from the fruits of your labor were.”
“This isn’t funny. I tried really hard.”
“I’m sure you did. But maybe the next batch will be better.”
I shrug. “Hopefully.”
Nick looks back down at his book and must figure out a clue as he writes down a word. “To be honest, I didn’t think that I had the ingredients to make cookies. I don’t even know when I bought those chocolate chips. Must have been on a whim when I moved here.”
I have no idea how long chocolate chips are good for. But let’s be honest, I ate a few of them before tossing them in the batter. “They tasted fine to me.”
“Well then maybe this next batch will turn out okay.”
“Thanks for cleaning up my mess, by the way.”
“You cleaned up mine this morning.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t destroy your kitchen.”
“True.” He sets his pen down and turns in his chair to face me. “I see you found new clothes.”
I look down at the pair of sweats and the T-shirt I found in Nick’s drawer. “Well, I couldn’t go walking around in flour-covered clothes. You’d probably carry me outside next and throw me in the snow.”
He contemplates that idea. “Maybe I should.”
“Jerk,” I mutter just as a timer goes off on his phone.
“Cookies are done.”
I skip over to the oven hoping this next batch is better than the first—a.k.a. not burned. But when I pull out the cookie sheet, they look flat as hell. Defeat shoots through me. Is there really nothing that I can do?
Nick looks over at the cookie sheet. “At least they aren’t burned.”
I pick up an overly hot cookie and hold it up. “Yeah, but they are flatter than my chest was when I was in middle school.”
Nick bites back a laugh. “Did you skip any ingredients?”
“You didn’t have any baking powder, and it said it needed like half a teaspoon. Didn’t sound important.”
Nick walks over to me and grabs the cookie out of my hand. “Obviously you weren’t very good at chemistry either.”
“Why do you say that?”
He takes a bite of the cookie, and I swear he fights to chew it and swallow it down. “No reason.”
I’m assuming my lack of knowledge of baking has something to do with chemistry but just ignore his comment. “Are they any good?”
He takes another bite of the cookie. “I mean, they aren’t terrible. But they are chewy as hell. I don’t know what you did.”
I punch him in the arm and rip the cookie out of his hand. “You don’t deserve this, you dick.”
I take a large bite of the cookie, and I immediately know what he means. It’s like chewing Playdough. I have no idea what the hell I did, but obviously it wasn’t right.
I spit the cookie out into my hand. “Oh god. These are awful.”
“Thank you for trying, though,” he says with a smile.
“I just wanted to do something nice for you since, you know, you rescued me and let me stay here.”
Nick tosses the plate of burned cookies into the trash. “It was the least I could do.”
I dump the rest of the cookies into the garbage since I know there is no way either of us will eat them.
“So what do you want to do today?”
“I’m not sure.”
“We’re not playing any more stupid games.”
“That’s fair.” I shrug. Besides there are other things I would like to see Nick do besides some stupid dares.
“I don’t like that look on your face, Pen.”
I raise a brow at him. “What look?”
He frowns. “Just say it.”
I bite my lip, knowing that he’s going to turn this down, but I am going to try anyway. “You should paint.”
“And what? You’re going to just watch? No thanks.”
I shake my head. “No, I was going to say you should paint me.”
I swear his jaw drops open. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not painting you naked.”
This time it’s my jaw that drops. “That’s not what I meant.” But that does give me ideas.
His cheeks turn a shade of pink that gives me butterflies. I don’t know what it is about this man that the stupidest things make my crush hit harder than it ever did in high school. Maybe because he is finally giving me the time of day.
“Sorry, I—I just thought since you saw that one picture that—”
“No, that wasn’t what I was thinking,” I cut him off. Which is the truth. I didn’t think he only painted nudes. But does he? “You just said you were trying to paint more, and I thought you could like paint me on the couch reading a book or something. You don’t need to draw me like one of your French girls.”
“Like one of my what?”
I stare at him in disbelief. “I want you to paint me wearing this, wearing only this.’ That doesn’t ring a bell?”
“Uh, no.”
“Jack and Rose?”
He shakes his head.
“How the hell have you not seen one of the greatest cinematic films of a generation? I mean I know it came out the year you were born, but I wasn’t even alive. And I’ve seen the movie well over ten times.”
“What movie?”
“ Titanic !” I shout.
“Hmm.” He shrugs. “Never heard of it.”
I want to throttle him. “How have you never heard of—” I pause when he starts silently laughing at me. “Asshole,” I mutter. “You knew what I was talking about the entire time.”
He smiles at me. “I just wanted to hear all about your love for such an epic love story.”
“So, you agree? It’s one of the best movies of all time?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. But I’ll let you live in your little fantasy.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “So does that mean you’ll paint me?”
He runs his hands through his hair. “If that’s what you really want to do, sure. But it’s going to be boring for you, you know. You just have to sit still.”
“I’m sure I’ll survive,” I say. Because I don’t mind doing that at all if I get to watch his mind in action. I don’t know why, but for some reason seeing him think turns me on.
He sighs. “Well let me grab what I need.”
The smile I’m sporting takes up my entire face. “I’m going to change.”
“Change?”
“Yeah, I don’t want you to paint me in your oversized clothing. Besides, I finished the laundry while you were outside. So I can put my clothes back on that fit me better.”
A look of disappointment crosses his face for a split second. If I blinked, I would have missed it. That look sure made me think he prefers seeing me in his clothes. I shake the thought from my head. That is definitely not what he was thinking at all.
I head to the bedroom where I left the folded clothes both mine and Nick’s since I’m not a heathen and finished his laundry too.
I strip off his clothes reluctantly, knowing I’m going to miss smelling like him. I throw on my underwear and grab my leggings when I notice the Santa suit on the floor in his closet.
And oh boy do, I get an idea.