“Jeffrey sure is interesting.”
“You have no idea.”
I hear her chuckle and then she turns to the food again. “Do you have plates?” she asks as she pops open the lids of the boxes.
“No. I don’t own any of those,” I answer dryly.
Her eyes lift to mine. “Was that supposed to be sarcastic?”
“I don’t know. What kind of question is that? Do I have plates? What do you think I do, eat my food off the counter?”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, Damien. You’ve always seemed to be a little less refined than most to me and you’re a bachelor. For all I know, you only survive on takeout and eat cereal for dinner most nights.”
That comment has me smiling. “Actually, you’re not quite off base. Cooking is not my forte, and I feel that cereal can be eaten at all hours of the day without any repercussions.”
“Just give me a plate, please,” she says, holding her palm out. I reach up into the cupboard next to my stove, taking out two plates for us, but Charlotte’s outburst has me freezing in my movements. “Holy shit. Is that a tea kettle?”
Slowly, I turn around to face her, taking in the shit-eating grin on her mouth. “Yes…”
And then she puts her hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. “Oh my God. You have a tea kettle.”
“I told you. I don’t like coffee.”
“But this is…”
“What?” I ask, setting the plates on the counter and then crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s so funny about this?”
“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head while reining in her giggles. “I just never imagined you being the type of guy to own a tea kettle. I’m seeing you in an entirely different light right now.”
“For your information, this tea kettle is top of the line from William Sonoma and was a gift from my mom when I moved into this place,” I state proudly, hellbent on making Charlotte eat her words for giving me shit. “I can customize the temperature and brew strength on each pot, and it tells me how long it’s been since the tea has been brewed so I don’t drink bitter tea. It’s also dishwasher safe and programmable like a coffee pot.” I turn back around, grab the plates, and move to the counter to dish out the food.
“Wow. Okay, that’s actually kind of cool.” She gets closer to my tea kettle to check it out. I keep my back to her as I scoop out the food onto the plates, but her words catch me off-guard “I’m sorry. It’s just…” She takes a deep breath and then lets it out. “This is something I was not anticipating about you.”
“Well, even more reason why we should actually get to know each other better. The last time we saw each other, we were self-centered teenagers and our hatred for one another overruled any common sense. We’re adults now, and I don’t know about you, but I am not the same person I was back then.”
I feel her hand connect with my forearm, the heat of her touch zinging across my skin. My body slips into a frenzy, remembering how it felt touching her on that massage table, the way the electricity that coursed through my hands and into her body was a surprising reaction I was not anticipating. And my question is, does she feel that too when we touch?
“You’re right. I’ll try to keep an open mind.”
“Thank you,” I relent. “And if you’re on your best behavior, maybe I’ll make you a pot of tea and show you what that bad boy is capable of.”
She laughs, the sound so jovial and light that it gives me a glimpse of her I don’t think I’ve ever seen around me—carefree Charlotte. I wonder if she’s ever felt like she could just relax around me before? I sure as hell have never felt that way around her.
But here’s to trying new things in the spirit of going after what we both want.
“Come on. We can eat on the couch.” I grab the plates and head for my living room, placing them both on the coffee table stationed between the couch and my recliner, another gift from my mother.
My apartment isn’t huge and fancy, but it’s a lot for a bachelor like me, and a place I’m proud of because I earned it on my own. It’s comfortable and home for now until I can afford something a little more refined for my taste, a house that this new promotion would help me acquire.
“I have some wine if you’re interested,” I offer as I stand and see Charlotte headed toward me, the sway of her hips purely hypnotizing.
“That sounds great. Red or white is fine by me.”
“Okay.” I go back into the kitchen, pouring us both a glass of chardonnay, and then join her once again in my living room.
“Thank you. Your place is nice, Damien,” she says before taking a sip of her wine, glancing around the room.
“Thanks. The rent is more than I’d like, but it has laundry facilities and a gym. Can’t really beat that.”
“It’s a lot neater than I thought it’d be too.”
“What are you trying to say? You think I’m a slob?” I tease.
“Not necessarily. I just know most men don’t care to clean up after themselves.” She grabs her plate and dives into her food with hunger, and it’s fucking sexy. “God, all this salad is missing is feta cheese.”
Jesus…the way she eats is sexy, Damien?
“Feta cheese?”
“Yes. I love it. If anything has feta cheese, I’ll eat it.” And then I watch her shove raw onions in the salad to the side. “Now raw onion on the other hand can go to hell.”
“Feta cheese and no raw onion. I’m going to store that information away for later.” I reach for my plate and begin eating too. “And to piggyback off your last comment, I guess without my mom to clean up after me, I’ve learned to do it myself.”
She snorts. “You always were a momma’s boy.”
“Again, you saw the tea kettle she bought me.”
She takes a deep breath and sets her fork down on her plate. “Okay. So I guess it’s time we discuss what I came here to, right?”
I nod in agreement. “Yeah. We need to make sure our relationship details match up. Dave will notice, and he’s not the only one.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of my colleagues came by after you left Tuesday asking about you. Your presence stirred up quite the gossip mill around the office.”
“Really?”
I bob my head up and down again. “I told you. I don’t date. This is why people are going to be skeptical and I need this to be believable.”
“Okay. So, how long have we been seeing each other?”
“I told one of my colleagues the other day that it’s been six weeks.”
“That’s it? That doesn’t seem long…”
“No, but any longer and I think it would invite even more questions why you haven’t been talked about. And, a bunch of us went out for drinks about two months ago and I definitely didn’t leave the bar alone. So if the timelines overlapped, that wouldn’t look good for me or you.”
Her eyes veer to the side, away from me. Shit, I probably shouldn’t discuss my past hook-ups around her. It’s not that I’m ashamed, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. Besides, I barely remember that woman. It’s not like she meant anything.
But you sure as hell remember what Charlotte looked like naked, don’t you, Damien?
Well, at least her backside.