Page 18 of The Fox

I lean against the counter, finding comfort in the warmth of the green mug. It has a chip on the handle, likely from overuse, but I can’t bring myself to get rid of it.

“Anything?” I ask.

“Yup.”

My thumb skims the edge of the warm ceramic as I consider his question. “I make these cookies that, um, have chocolate chips and coconut in them with a bunch of other things.”

He looks up, his eyes ablaze in the dim room.

“Do they have walnuts in them?”

“Ummm, most times. I like them best with the walnuts because they add a little something extra, you know? No, of course you don’t know. How could you know?” I start rambling, feeling his eyes on me. “If I don’t have walnuts, then I’ll put pecans or peanuts, but they aren’t as good so I’m always a little sad when I make them like that. But that’s okay beca—”

He interrupts, “Those are my favorite cookies.”

“What?” I am confused. There is no way that his favorite cookie is the same as my favorite one to bake. No way in hell.

“My mom would call them pantry cookies. She’d throw in whatever bits and ends were in the pantry, before slapping my hand when I tried to eat them fresh out of the oven.”

I chuckle at the thought of a younger him getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I spin, looking for the Tupperware I’d left out earlier in the day.

“Do you want one?” I shake the tub, eyeing the couple left from the last batch I’d made. “They’re fresh and I’ll make more tomorrow. Maybe take the whole thing home with you?” I peer at him, suddenly shy and feeling extremely vulnerable. Silly girl—surely he wouldn’t want a probable poor comparison to his mom’s version.

“I’d love to.”??

CHAPTER 14

Amelia---Joy

There is a knocking on my door, and it unsettles me. I roll over, the soft bed linens slipping down my body, to check my phone. No missed calls. No missed texts. Okay, then. I flop back and throw my arm over my face. Maybe if I ignore them, they’ll go away and stop knocking.

Knock, knock.

My bed is so comfy.

Knock, knock, knock.

The person slams their fist against my door louder, and more incessantly. Fuck them. I throw the covers off, slipping a sweater from the dirty clothes hamper over my shoulders, not bothering to do anything with my hair. I storm past Lennon, a noise coming from him as I disrupt his slumber.Welcome to the club, dude.

Tugging the sides of the sweater across the front of my thin tank top, I reach my front door. The person on the other side is still knocking and at this point, I’d love to knock their head into the doorframe. I grab a small knife from the entryway table, palming it quickly, before wrenching the door open.

“What do you want?! Gods forbid, I get any sort of fucking sleep around here.”

I find a pair of worn Bludstones on the stoop, and my chest seizes. My eyes travel up the faded blue jeans stretched across those firm thighs, up the tapered waist, up black fabric draped across a toned torso, before reaching broad shoulders. One hand is behind his back, holding something and the other clutches my tupperware he’d taken home the week before. I finally meet blue eyes, twinkling with mischief. His lips are pulled to one side in a knowing smirk that I want to slap off his face.

“Good morning,kochanie. Did I wake you?”

Asshole.

“What does it look like, Rhodes?” I yank my container from his hand. I rest one hand on my hip, keeping the blade hidden in my palm. I know the shorts I sleep in are riding up my thighs. “What are you doing here?” He brings his hand from behind him, revealing a small bunch of flowers. A sheepish grin blooms on his face and he ruffles his hair.

“I thought that maybe we could have an adventure today. Plus, I wanted you to have these. I don’t know which flowers are your favorite, but these remind me of you.” He pushes the flowers toward me and I gently take them. I step back into my house and he follows through the door. I use my heel to close the door behind him before making my way to find a jar for the blossoms.

“I made sure that they were safe for Lennon. I’d hate for the poor guy to get sick from them.”

Of course he made sure Lennon wouldn’t get hurt from them. I look down, noticing the pink zinnias tucked among the greenery. He had given me my favorite flowers and didn’t even know. He shifts on his feet and I look back up at him.

“So what do you say? Would you like to go on an adventure?” The sound in his voice is so hopeful and I don’t want to dim the happiness this would bring him. I use my knife to trim the stems before placing them in the vase now atop the counter.

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