But he’s more than a friend, that little annoying voice in my head whispered. And you know it.
Maybe I did. But was that going to stop me from letting myself have this, just for a little while?
Not at the moment, no.
I finished my shower and the one-sided conversation with myself, stepping out to wrap a towel around myself. When I left the bathroom, the scent of cooking bacon and frying eggs hit my nose. I groaned; it smelled so good, and I was glad that for all the opulence Walker was now surrounded with, he at least still liked cooking for himself. And he was actually pretty good at it. Granted, his tastes were a little fancier than mine. I would’ve been happy eating Pop-Tarts and Hot Pockets—my palate was that of a five-year-old—but it was nice having something hearty and home-cooked on a near daily basis.
I threw on a large t-shirt that came down to just above my knees before heading downstairs to the kitchen. Walker manned the stove, dressed in a tank and a pair of sweats. I’d learned, in between our activities over the weekend, that Walker loosened up a lot post sex. It was a damn fine look on him.
Disregarding for a second my promise to keep things platonic, I couldn’t help but come up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I nuzzled my nose between his shoulder blades; he still smelled like sex.
“I’m starving,” I said. “I hope you’re making double.”
“You know I am. You eat like a black hole,” he teased. He reached around, holding out a piece of savory, cooled bacon. I happily plucked it from his fingers and backed up, pulling myself up to sit on the countertop of the island as I watched him work.
Walker, for a muscled man, was graceful in the kitchen. If cooking was considered an art form, he was certainly an artist, his tools not paintbrushes and canvas but spatulas and pans, savory foods becoming masterpieces before him. It was nice to see him in an environment that didn’t stress him, didn’t cause him to huff and get all agitated. It reminded me more of the Walker I’d known as a teen.
“Alright. Two egg white omelets with spinach, tomatoes, and goat cheese, fresh mandarins, and wheat toast with butter and honey.”
Oh god. My mouth watered, and my stomach growled as soon as I saw and smelled the delicious plate of food Walker handed me. I took it eagerly, quickly digging into my plate, ravenous. I was hungrier than I initially thought, whether because I’d just worked up a serious appetite or because it was just that good. For the next few minutes, there was nothing but the scrape of forks against plates and contented hums of satisfaction.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” I asked as I polished off the last bite. Somehow, I always managed to finish my food before Walker.
Maybe I really am a black hole, I thought, then bit back a grin. I’ll wear that badge proudly.
“Well, it’s still the weekend. I was planning on maybe getting some prelim work done so there’d be less to do when I went back to the office tomorrow. It’s going to be a busy week since I took Friday off, but…” He shrugged. “I’m not too worried about that to be honest. And I suppose I could be tempted out of working today if you’ve got some distractions for me…”
Distractions turned into me needing another shower after. We would have showered together that time, but Walker got a call from one of his overseas investors—an impromptu conference call. I waited in the living room while he was on his call, debating whether to take Bruno out for a walk solo; the big floppy guy was finally starting to show a little more life, and he sat by the door, wagging his shaggy tail.
But he could wait a few more minutes, and honestly, I wanted Walker to come with us. It felt right.
It was strange to think about it… but it felt like I was really, truly settling into living here.
You’re not, though. Remember that. This is all temporary.
When Walker finally wrapped up his call, he strode into the living room with a smile on his face.
“Anything good?” I asked.
“A new investor, apparently. So, very good. Thanks for waiting. Now we can turn it into a celebratory walk instead of just a regular dog walk.”
“What’s the difference?”
He paused, looking surprised. Then he cocked his head to the side and grinned. “Confetti.”
“Wise guy!” I slapped his arm playfully, letting my touch linger as I enjoyed the feel of the thick cords of muscle under my fingertips.
Jackets shrugged on and Bruno’s leash attached to his collar, we ended up at a dog park not too far from the house. It was one of my favorite spots, but apparently, Walker hadn’t even known it was there; he’d never paid attention.
“In my defense, I’m a very, very busy man,” he said as we took a leisurely stroll along a path that circled the park.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “How could you not know a place like this exists?”
It was almost criminal. This park was beautiful, with blooming cherry trees and ponds interspersed with arched bridges curving over them. Other couples and individual people were out and about with their own dogs, jogging along the trail or walking as casually as Walker and I were. Bruno seemed fascinated, his head going up and down and his nose wiggling about in every possible direction.
For his sake, I was glad we’d found this park. A new environment was good for a dog; it got their curiosity up and their excitement revved up. It was the cutest thing I’d seen in a long time. His tail wagged behind him and he pulled us along.
Walker laughed.