Page 44 of Fly with Me

What could go wrong?

He was such a dick.

“What is that?” As if she knew the contents of the messages from Derek, Stella’s perfect mouth had fallen open. Her gaze fixed on the peninsula of the kitchen counter where a dessert was presented on a teal vintage Pyrex cake stand.

“It’s a pound cake.”

“No… that can’t be. Is it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“It would be rude to ask about eating dessert first, right?” Stella approached the cake looking less like Stella and more like a jaguar circling a small animal of jungle prey.

“What if we do a tiny piece and call it an appetizer?” Olive widened her eyes comically, trying not to laugh.

Stella did a happy dance that made Olive want to wrap her up in her arms and kiss the crap out of her. Stifling those completely useless instincts, Olive eased a knife from the block and cut Stella a sliver. She grabbed a spoonful of strawberries from the fridge, a dollop of whipped cream, and a mint leaf.

“It’s a masterpiece,” Stella said in that breathless voice that threatened Olive’s sanity.

“It’s got all the major food groups. Grains, dairy, fruits, vegetables.”

“Vegetables?”

Olive pointed to the mint leaf. “It’s kind of a green. It’s vegetable-adjacent.”

“I’m not complaining.” She slid her fork into the dessert, making sure to get bits of strawberries and cream with it. She lifted it to her mouth and closed her lips around it. “I feel like it’s bad form to call the person making you a delicious dinner a liar, but there’s no way that’s actually gluten-free.”

“Well, I guess since I’m agreeing to be your fake girlfriend, I am a liar. But in this case.” She held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“And you’re sure we can’t just eat cake for dinner?”

“Go sit. Balanced diet. I’m a nurse, remember? I want to make sure my fake girlfriend eats vegetables.”

Eesh, Olive needed to stop calling her her fake girlfriend. She was making this weird.

Her conscience or internal Derek or whatever it was popped up like a Whac-A-Mole head.

It just is weird.

She took an internal monologue mallet to that thought and settled her attention back on Stella.

A muscle feathered in Stella’s jaw, but then she took another bite and the enraptured look returned. She took a third bite of cake. “I’m feeling super spoiled.”

Olive sipped from her own bottle. “Well, you did drive me all the way to Disney World.”

“You need to stop thanking me for that.”

“Are you still hungry right now? The cake didn’t spoil your dinner?”

“Still starving.” Stella licked her spoon.

Holy fuck. Bridgerton dude has nothing on Stella Soriano.

Yep, and that was an actual moan as Stella’s lips closed around the last forkful of cake.

“I’ll just—” Olive tripped over her rug, slamming her hip into the counter.

“Are you okay?” Stella hopped up. Before either of them could make another decision, Stella was running a thumb over Olive’s hip. “That sounded like it hurt.”

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