Crazy (The Gibson Boys 4)

My stomach flip flops at the idea. It’s hard enough to think about Peck. I haven’t had to see him face to face after our late-night kitchen meeting last night.

All day long, I’ve thought about him. And how serious he was. And how I thought, and maybe even hoped, he was going to kiss me. Following that thought is the worry that things will be different between us today.

I hope not.

That would be a shame.

Navie pulls the car up Peck’s driveway and turns it off beside Peck’s truck. She pops the trunk as I climb out. We meet behind the car and load up the grocery bags and carry them inside.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” I tell her.

She nods, taking in the kitchen.

“What?” I ask.

“Just seeing how he lives.” She turns in a circle. “I’m weirdly impressed. It’s so clean.”

I giggle as I sort through the purchases from the grocery store. “He is clean. And pretty damn organized, to be honest. I mean, this place could use a woman’s touch, for sure, but it’s not even close to some of the bachelor pads I’ve seen in my life.”

Navie grins. “Maybe you could put a little touch on this place.”

“Why? I’ll be leaving soon.”

The door opens, and Peck walks in. He gives Navie a little wave and then sets his sights on me. His head bows as he searches my eyes.

There’s a minuscule amount of awkwardness hanging in the air between us. If there’s anything in life that I don’t want, it’s for things to be weird with Peck.

“Don’t,” I say.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t ask me what I’m making for dinner.” I hold up two packets of hamburger. “I’ll cook with you, but not for you. At least not every night,” I say, correcting myself.

He laughs. “I can deal with that.”

Navie giggles and heads for the door. “You two are adorable together.” She stops at the doorway. “You should come to Crave tonight, Dylan.”

I glance at Peck. He’s watching me carefully.

“Okay,” I say slowly. “Um, what time?”

Navie’s grin gets wider. “Whenever. The fun usually gets started around nine thirty or so. Wouldn’t you say, Peck?”

“Yup. That’s usually when I get there,” he says with a rogue grin. “Talked to Machlan today?”

“Why?” Navie asks.

“Just getting a feeling as to his temperament today. Wondering what I can get away with.”

Navie laughs, turning her attention to me. She jams a thumb in Peck’s direction. “And he calls me a troublemaker.”

“So nine thirty?” I ask.

“Does that work for you? I mean, you can come whenever, but it’ll be pretty quiet before then,” she says.

“Yup. That’s fine. I have no plans. Obviously,” I tell her.

She gives me a thumbs-up before opening the door and walking out. Somehow, the room gets smaller without her. When it’s just Peck and me together.

“I got groceries,” I say, stating the obvious. But it seems like as good of an icebreaker as any. “I don’t know what you like, so I got the basics.”

He takes an apple out of a bag and tosses it in the air. He catches it easily. “I like about anything. But you didn’t have to do this. I could’ve got groceries. I should’ve, huh?”

A ripple of uncertainty passes through his eyes.

“No,” I insist. “It’s not your job to feed me. I actually enjoy grocery shopping. Is that weird?”

“Does this have anything to do with that Have Line thing?”

I laugh. “It’s HAS Line, and sometimes it does. But I like to buy food even when I’m not angry or sad.” I take out a jar of peanut butter and set it on the table. “I think it’s a control thing, to be honest.”

“Control of the menu?”

“No. More like that I have my shit together. I can buy groceries. There was a time in my life, my late teens, when I couldn’t just walk in the kitchen and get an apple. Things were hard. And now that I can go and buy whatever I want—within reason, of course—it feels good. I think that’s why I like it.”

He moves across the room until he’s standing next to me. I swear that having him this close messes with the electricity in my brain because everything misfires. All I can smell is the scent of his cologne. All I can feel is the electricity sizzling between us. All I can taste is that almost-kiss last night.

Damn it.

Lifting the packages of meat, he carries them to the fridge. “I will tell you a little secret.”

That you regret not kissing me too?

“What’s that?” I ask, holding my breath. He’s not going to mention not kissing me, that I know, but as long as he doesn’t answer, there’s hope.

“I’m actually a decent cook.” He shuts the refrigerator door. “At least, I think I am. No one else may like it, but I do.”

“And you’re telling me this because you’re fixing dinner for me tonight?” I tease. “You sweet thing.”