Page 43 of The Risk Taker

My eyebrows fly up my forehead. “I knew you were obsessed with that car, but come on.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. That one is nonnegotiable.”

“You just said anything in this place is mine to use,” I argue.

“Anything inside this apartment. That doesn’t include my baby outside.”

I roll my eyes. “Your baby. I’ll never understand men and their cars.”

“You don’t need to understand it,” he counters, pointing the spatula at me. “You just need to accept it.”

“Fine. Then, you can drive me to the car wash when we’re done eating,” I say as if it’s decided, and I’m surprised when he doesn’t argue with me.

Sometimes, I think he enjoys disagreeing with me just for the sport of it.

I pour two glasses of orange juice and sit at the counter again to watch him assemble omelets for the two of us. He slides a plate in front of me when he’s done and then sits beside me with one of his own. I cut into the eggs and watch as sausage, vegetables, and melted cheese ooze out. My eyes roll back in my head with that first taste.

“This is so good,” I moan around a mouthful of food.

Ollie smirks and pauses to watch me enjoy his masterpiece.

“I didn’t know you could cook like this,” I say, although he did make an amazing grilled cheese for me back in high school. I take another bite, and it’s just as tasty as the first. “That’s it; it’s decided. You’re cooking every meal from now on.”

Ollie scoffs. “Not happening.”

“Come on,” I beg. “I’ll do the dishes.”

“No way. I’ve already given you a place to crash. The deal is, if you’re staying here, you pull your weight. That means you do some of the cooking too.”

“Fine,” I grumble. “But you’re not going to like it when we have ramen on my nights.”

He chuckles and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth.

When we finish eating, I clean up the kitchen. And when I’m done with that, I change into a tank top and cutoff jean shorts and walk over next to the couch. I stand there with my arms crossed over my chest, waiting for him to notice me.

“What?” Ollie asks when he finally glances in my direction.

“Car wash.”

He sighs and slumps further into the cushions. “It really isn’t necessary, Mads.”

“It is necessary, Ollie. I want to do something nice for you.”

I quietly stare at the side of his face until he squirms.

“Fine,” he grumbles, standing to push his bare feet into a pair of sliders sitting next to the couch before grabbing his keys. “Why does you doing something nice mean I have to get off this couch?”

“I’d be more than happy to take your baby out for a spin and a wash, but you won’t let me. So, blame yourself, hockey boy.” I smile triumphantly as I snag some money from my purse and shove it into my pocket.

He scoffs, walking closer to me, and the air changes with each step. My spine straightens. His body heat warms my shoulder when he stops an inch away and looks down at me. We aren’t touching, but it feels like we are. He leans even closer.

“Just so you know … I’m no boy.”

My eyes shift to his and hold. Turns out that chemistry is a real thing. There’s an electric current pulsing through the room, filling the small space between us. If I reach out and touch his skin, I’m certain I’ll be electrocuted.

“I’m well aware.” My voice comes out all breathy and affected. I’m annoyed by it because I’m not that girl.

His jaw tenses for a moment before he pulls his body and his gaze away from me. That tic is the only indication that this attraction I have for him might not be one-sided. But the mask is in place again as he moves toward the front door.

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