Three Sweet Nothings (Blindfold Club 5)

et the bag on the floor, propped up against the wall. “After I finished the macarons, I was supposed to go out for drinks with my friends.”

“That was a real reason. You didn’t have to blow them off for me.” But inside, I was thrilled. Did she want to see me as badly as I wanted to see her?

Ruby snorted. “I didn’t blow them off. When I told my friend you were coming over, he bailed.”

I hesitated. “He?”

“Yes.” Her expression was plain. “He.”

A timer beeped in the kitchen and she pivoted on her heel, leaving me to follow. I ignored the wall of pictures to my left, not wanting to see all the people good enough to earn a place there, and the reminder I wasn’t one of them.

This was no small cookie-making project.

Every available surface was occupied with something baking related. The eat-in kitchen table had two trays on it with yellow circles. There were bowls, a mixer, various other things I didn’t know but assumed were tools, and sacks of flour and sugar.

She touched her finger to one of the yellow circles on the tray and seemed satisfied with the results. I watched her pick up the cookie sheet, march it over to the oven, and slide it inside. Only she wedged a wooden spoon in the door when she closed it.

“You know, the heat is supposed to stay in the oven.”

“Oh my God, is that how it works?”

I ignored her attempt to play dumb. “Can I ask why you’re making enough cookies to feed a small army?”

“My sister’s a high school vice principal. Monday they have a teachers’ in-service day, and she wanted to reward her staff.”

“And she demanded you make her cookies?”

Ruby shrugged as she set the timer. “I like making macarons. It’s kind of my thing.”

It hadn’t been her thing in law school; this was something she’d gotten into after. I disliked not being in the know about her new hobby. I stood in the center of the kitchen, in her way, as she unwrapped a stick of butter, dropped it into the bowl beneath the mixer, and set the machine running.

She washed bowls in the sink, paying no attention to me as I surveyed the room. Her fridge had two tickets stuck to it under a magnet, and I stepped closer to read the small print. Huh.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an orchestra lover,” I said loudly over the hum of the mixer and the running faucet.

“My friend Grant plays cello. It’s their season finale.” She shut off the water and stacked the bowl in the drying rack. “They’re just a community orchestra, but they’re good.”

There was an abrupt knock on her front door, drawing both of our attention.

“Oh, crap, I forgot about that.” She dug some cash out of her pocket and went to the door, revealing a scrawny guy holding a flat, white box.

“You ordered pizza?” I asked when she returned to the kitchen and set it on the table.

“Grant did, before you hijacked our plans.”

I frowned. “I didn’t know I was hijacking. You didn’t tell me.”

She waved my statement away and gave a smile. “I know, I’m just teasing. It’s fine.” She lifted the lid and the delicious scent slapped me in the face. “Are you hungry?”

I’d barely eaten today. I’d worked out way too long this morning in a desperate attempt not to call her. I’d skipped lunch to meet Joseph, scarfing down a protein bar on the drive out to the suburbs.

My scheme of showing up at her place, getting her to the brink of orgasm, and then begging she let me take her out to dinner, fell by the wayside. She’d said no dates, but fuck that. Even if we didn’t leave her apartment, I could still make it feel that way. I could be romantic, plus I had backup plans B and C in my bag.

“Yeah,” I said, dropping my voice low at the same moment I moved in on her. “I’m hungry.” I suppressed her quiet gasp with my kiss, and she melted beneath me.

I had to hold myself back. Our final kiss last night had unleashed so much longing, and I was determined not to let that happen again. The kiss had been a collision. My head had twisted, choked with thoughts and emotions I wasn’t ready for. Maybe after a few more ‘not dates’ we would be.

“Okay.” She eased me back, her expression dazed. “Plates are in the cabinet next to the fridge.”