Page 76 of Resisting the Grump

“Because I didn’t know you.”

“You knew where I lived?!”

“What if you ended up being crazy?” I asked. “Or only liked me for my money?” It was a cheap argument, but stranger things had happened.

“What if I didn’t like you at all?”

“But you do.” I fought the urge to inch closer when I realized she’d assumed that same puffy body language Simba gets when he sees another cat and can’t decide if he’s under threat. “You liked me from the moment we met.”

Her eyes sharpened like I’d struck a nerve.

“And I wooed you fair and square.”

“From atop a throne of lies.”

I recoiled. “‘Throne’ is a strong word.”

“It bothers me that it was so easy for you to not mention that you were my neighbor,” she said. “Makes it seem like you think lying to me is no big deal.”

“It’s not that. I just assumed you’d hate it if you found out I lived next door.”

“I do hate it. I still hate it.”

I sighed. “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“You gave me a leash, Oliver.”

“It was in poor taste,” I said. “If I’d known it was you, I obviously would’ve gotten a studded one.”

She failed to suppress a shy smile, and her cheeks bloomed pink. “I tried so hard to convince myself you weren’t the guy everyone else believes you are, and I got burned.”

“I’m only a man, Avery. I make mistakes all the time. I’ll mess up again, I’m sure, and it would be insincere of me to pretend otherwise. But I’ll come clean about anything you want. I don’t want to trick you into being with me. I don’t want you to give me another chance because of what anyone else says or thinks or believes…” I looked down at the space between us and took a deep breath before lifting my gaze again. “I want you to be with me because you know me and trust me and trust yourself with me.” I swallowed. “Your opinion about the kind of man I am…. It matters to me more than I can tell you.”

Simba slunk around the far end of the couch and rubbed his head against her ankles.

She looked down and trailed her fingertips between his soft ears.

“Will you stay?” My chest pinched at the words. “For dinner?”

Her eyes sparkled and then smiled. “For dinner.”

T H I R T YF I V E

- Avery -

His shiny black granite countertops made his kitchen feel like Batman’s lair, and the setting seemed to amplify how mesmerizing I found his sure movements. He lifted the lid off the saucepan, releasing a curl of steam into the air, and I smiled into my wine glass.

He looked good in the kitchen. Who was I kidding? He looked good everywhere, and my whole body was twitching with temptation. “This is pretty romantic, Oliver.” I swirled the wine in my glass, picturing him in a chef’s hat and nothing else. Perhaps that’s how I should’ve punished him for lying to me. I bet taking a wooden spoon to his beautiful backside while he begged for forgiveness would’ve been far more fun than the silent treatment I’d served for lack of a better idea.

“Can’t accuse me of not trying.”

It occurred to me suddenly that I’d never broken into a lobster before. I assumed he had the necessary tools, but I hadn’t the slightest idea how to use them elegantly. “You make lobster for all the women you go out with?” I asked, glancing across the room to confirm Simba was still eyeing me suspiciously.

“This is the first time actually.”

I was flattered he thought it took lobster to impress me. Grace baked a few edible flowers into the top of some banana bread the other day, and I was still reeling.

“The recipe’s from my dad’s cookbook.”

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