Page 68 of Truly, Madly, Deeply

“Wikipedia spiral?”

“Don’t change the subject,” he chided, cheeks pink. “Your fridge is empty.”

“It is not. I have cheese—”

“You have Velveeta. You have cheese product—”

“I have cheese, onions, and um—oh, hey! Look, I have Swiss cheese! Ha! Real cheese! Slices of it... four of ’em. Ha.”

Colin checked the expiration date, lips wavering like he was trying hard not to smile. “Expires tomorrow.”

“You know, you’re sure acting awfully pretentious for a guy whose ass is hanging out of his borrowed apron.”

He reached back, adjusting the bow tied over his bare butt.

You’re delusional if you think I’m wearing your ex’s sweats, he’d said.

It wasn’t like she owned anything else that would fit him. Her Lululemon yoga leggings would’ve been obscene on him, and he’d have definitely hung out from her pair of Soffe shorts, a holdover from her days in high school cheer.

Cooking naked sounded like a recipe for disaster, so bare ass in an apron it was until his boxers finished their spin cycle.

And what an ass it was.

“When you said the contents of your fridge were lean, I wasn’t expecting a Chopped situation.” He shoved aside her oat milk and pickles, the wrinkle between his brows deepening.

She had bread and cheese and onions and—butter? She was pretty sure she had butter. And a drawer full of spices, and a freezer full of ice cream and frost-burned broccoli. It was hardly as dire as he was making it sound. “If you aren’t up for the task—”

“Oh no, I’m up for the task,” he said, reaching into her cabinet and pulling out a frying pan. “I just hate to think what you’d do without me here.”

“Lucky for me, I guess I won’t have to find out.”

And that was a corny as hell thing to say. She’d written some cheeseball lines in her life that made her cringe when she reread them, but she’d never actually said anything that corny. Corny and presumptuous. She was diligently avoiding thinking about what this night meant—was this a hookup? One of those non-date dates Colin talked about? The beginning of something more? Insinuating that there was longevity here was too close to a conversation that she wasn’t ready to have tonight.

Colin set the frying pan down with a clatter and stalked toward her in a way that should’ve been laughable—he was wearing a too-small, cream-colored apron with the words baking, because murder is wrong, emblazoned in hot pink, a gag gift from Lulu—but there was nothing laughable about those quads or the soft look of single-minded focus on his face.

Her breath caught as his hands circled her waist, lifting her up and setting her down onto the counter without even a grunt. He framed her face with his hands, easy to do when they were that big, and tilted her chin, leaving her with no choice but to look directly at him. “If anyone’s lucky, it’s me.”

It didn’t sound corny coming out of his mouth.

She swallowed thickly and gave him a gentle push, her hand falling to her lap. “I don’t know if you’ll be saying that if you don’t feed me soon.”

Colin laughed. “Are you saying the way to your heart is through your stomach?”

“I’m saying I turn into a real bitch when I’m hungry.”

“Hm.” He opened the fridge. “And that’s different than the rest of the time, how?”

“Hey!” She laughed and hurled the dish sponge at him. It sailed over his shoulder and into the vegetable drawer. “Rude.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” He shut the fridge with his hip, his hands full. “I kind of like it when you get all bitchy.” He threw a wolfish grin at her over his shoulder. “It’s hot.”

“You know how I called you a little odd? I was wrong. You’re very odd.”

“And you like me anyway.” He dropped a kiss against her forehead as he passed on the way to the stove. Her heart squeezed at the domesticity of it all, how right it felt despite being new. “Think that says more about you than it does me.”

She bit back a smile but didn’t deny it. She did like him. And not just because he gave great head and could apparently cook. Though, that was a plus. “What are you making me?”

“Grilled cheese with caramelized onions. Sound okay?”

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