T H I R T Y S I X
T H I R T YS I X
- Oliver -
A very licked the lemon butter off her lips and leaned back. “Torturing you isn’t my intention.”
“Bullshit.”
She scoffed. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”
“And you know exactly where they all are.”
Her lips fell apart, but she didn’t deny it.
“Just admit you love pushing my buttons.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” she said. “It’s a fair question.”
I sighed. Hadn’t we been through this? “Yes, I had to get a restraining order.”
She nodded slowly, letting the information sink in. “And since then?”
“I presume she found someone else to stalk.”
“That must be scary,” she said. “Being in the public eye, knowing your stalker’s out there.”
“Scary is not knowing whether the woman of your dreams is going to give you a second chance.”
“Wow, you really don’t let up.”
I shrugged. “I’ve missed you.”
She searched my eyes.
“What’s it going to take to make you mine?”
Her smile pulled to one side. “The lobster was a good start.”
I laughed, grateful for her well-timed levity. “Good.”
Her gaze softened, and my mind flashed back to the moment I first slid inside her. Every cell of my body remembered how good she felt. How she stretched for me. How heavy her eyelids got. How her slow exhale sounded like a wave returning to the sea.
She squinted at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I can’t keep apologizing and telling you I like you,” I admitted. “I won’t chase someone who doesn’t want to be chased.”
She put her poker face back on.
God, I was so over this charade. Could she not see that I wanted to do so much more than chase her? I wanted to wake her up with oral. Introduce her to my parents. Fly her first class to Florence for truffle risotto and buy her jewelry for dessert. Probably in that order. Was I delusional to think she’d be up for that? Crazy to think she’d ever trust me again? I had no idea where I stood with her. Then again, she had come to dinner. And enjoyed every second of it from the look of her plate.
“What were you thinking opening my mail?”
“Have you listened to a word I’ve said? Enough with the unproductive questions.”
“How can I be certain you won’t disappoint me again?”
The “D” word hit my chest like a cannonball. Fuck. That’s Florence on the back burner.
Her eyes looked sad for the first time all night.
“I can’t promise I’ll never disappoint you again, Avery. Just like you can’t promise you’ll fall in love with me if you give me another chance.”
She took a deep breath.
“All I want is an opportunity to earn your attention.”
“Clearly, you have my attention, Oliver.”
“I know. That’s why I’ve already moved onto step two.”
Her brows lifted.
“Earning your affection.”
She draped her fingers around the bottom of her wine glass and looked at them for a moment before lifting her eyes back to mine.
“Would you prefer I play games instead of being transparent?”
She shook her head.
This is the part where you tell me what you’re thinking.
“Dinner was sensational,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Torturous, but welcome . “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“Almost as much as the company,” she said, scooting her chair back. “Can I help you clear the table?”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “You’re my guest. You can help by finding room for dessert.”
“If dessert is shots of lemon butter sauce, I’m in.”
I brought our plates over to the sink. “In that case, I went to far too much trouble.”
“What did you make?”
“Chocolate tart,” I said, making my way over to the fridge.
She narrowed her eyes at me.
“I got the recipe from Grace.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“I asked her nicely,” I said, pulling the dark tart from the fridge. Multiple times . Baking wasn’t my forte, but I was happy with how it set.
“She didn’t exactly make things easy for you. That’s one of her trickiest recipes.”
I suspected as much, but I wasn’t about to admit my first attempt was a disaster. “It wasn’t so bad. Crushing the cookies for the crust was fun. Plus, it looks so striking.”
Avery’s eyes doubled in size when I set it down in front of her, and I watched them travel along the trail of thinly sliced strawberries to the generous dollop of cream in the center.
“Your powers of seduction are commendable.”
I laughed and went to grab two dessert plates. “And some people say it’s just a bean that grows on a tree.”
“Nonsense.”
Her cheeks looked flushed when I returned, and I wondered if it was the wine or the warm kitchen or if she’d simply tired of pretending she wasn’t having a good time.
“Dig in,” I said, offering her the first slice before cutting one for myself.
She sank one side of her fork into the edge of her piece, and I slid back into my chair, so I’d have a front row seat for her verdict.
Her pretty lips dragged across the back of her fork, removing every bit of chocolate off the silver tines before a satisfied smile stretched across her face.
“Well, what do you think?” I quirked a brow. “Because as the sixth-place finisher in the confectionary category, your opinion means a lot.”
“I think it’s derivative and self-indulgent.”
I bit back a smile. “You’ve been reading my articles.”
“I might’ve come across one or two.”
“Your Google search history flatters me.”
She feigned a scowl.
“What prompted your prying?”
“Honestly? I thought if I went down a rabbit hole of rude things you’ve written, I might find you more resistible.”
Ouch .
“Unfortunately, it didn’t work because I actually find your writing really…”
My chest tightened in a way I didn’t recognize. Was this what if felt like to actually care about someone’s feedback?
“Funny.”
I tried not to let my relief show in my face.
“I mean, I get why you have the reputation you do, but how offended you can pretend to be by something like watery pea soup is…”
I turned an ear towards her.
“Surprisingly entertaining.”
Her comment felt like a confession. Did she feel guilty that she enjoyed my writing? It wasn’t like I was writing smut. And I wasn’t pretending to be offended by that pea soup. It was diabolical. A veritable insult to peas to everywhere. “You do realize the places I write about know I’m coming beforehand, right? I don’t just rock up when the pea soup guy’s having a bad day and try to make it worse.”
“I know.” She scooped some whipped cream onto a slice of strawberry and slipped it between her lips.
“So you don’t have to feel bad about liking my work.”
“I don’t.”
“Or foolish for liking me. Despite what my producers want people to believe, I’m not actually an irredeemable asshole.”
“I don’t feel foolish for liking you,” she said. “I feel foolish for wanting to trust myself with you when that’s led to so many messes.”
“That’s exactly why we should stick together. If we’d each had a place to go for a second opinion from the start, we wouldn’t need a clean slate now.”
She cocked her head at me.
“You could’ve just asked me if you should leave a bitchy note on your new neighbor’s doorstep, and I could’ve helped you blow off steam in a healthier way.”
“It wasn’t bitchy.”
“You imposed quiet hours and even made Simba feel unwelcome.” I followed her eyes to where Simba was watching her from beside his food bowl, his tail swatting slowly like he was as frustrated as I was.
“Yet he never retaliated,” she said, shooting a sideways glance my way.
“The cactus was kind of a nice gift, at least.”
“Yeah, pricks from a prick. It’s practically poetry.”
I groaned.
“What?” She threw her hands in the air. “I’m a monster, too. Is that what you want me to say? That we deserve each other.”
A slow smile lifted my cheeks. “That’s exactly what I wanted you to say.”