Page 36 of All Along

She winks at me and my heart pounds in my chest. Maya has me wrapped around her little finger and she doesn’t even realize it.

I’m not the man for her but I sure as hell wish I was.

Chapter 14

“Is it wrong to ask Sammy the seal to throw my phone in the ocean?” ~ Maya

Maya

Caleb shoves his plate away and leans back in his chair. “I’m stuffed.”

“Too stuffed for the dessert I brought fromPirates Pastries?”

He perks up. “What did you bring?”

“A selection of cookies.” I point to my bag. “You get the cookies. I’ll do the dishes.”

He frowns. “You’re my guest. You don’t have to clean.”

“You cooked. I clean. Those are the rules. I didn’t make them up.”

“We both know I didn’t cook.”

I gather the dishes and pile them together. “You tried and you set the table. Good enough. Now, stop arguing and get the cookies.”

I notice his limp is worse than normal when he walks to the bag, but I don’t remark on it. He already knows he’s limpingand bringing it up will not make him a happy camper. I prefer it when he’s a happy camper.

“Shall I make some coffee?”

He scowls at me. “I’ll make it.”

Is he annoyed I’m making myself at home? I’m not trying to invade his space. This is what friends do. When one friend isn’t experimenting with living as a hermit.

Does he regret inviting me? Does he wish he could have his space to himself? Am I overthinking this? Probably.

I find the mugs and hand them to him. His earthy scent surrounds me and I barely stop myself from inhaling his scent into my lungs. I love how he smells. I wish my bed sheets smelled of him.

And now I’m perving on my friend. Knock it off, Maya. Caleb is a friend. Nothing more.

My stomach cramps –nothing more than a friend– but I ignore it. I should be used to ignoring my desire for more with Caleb by now.

I retreat to the sofa in the living room with the plate of cookies. Caleb joins me with coffee a few minutes later.

His eyes light up at the plate of cookies. “I haven’t had a cookie fromPirates Pastriesforever.”

“Go ahead. They’re fresh. Parker was pulling them out of the oven when I arrived.”

“Parker?” He raises an eyebrow. “The girl who was a class behind us in high school?”

“The one and the same. She owns the bakery now.”

He bites into a cookie and moans. “Damn. Parker can bake.”

“Which is probably why she owns a bakery.”

He chuckles. “You are—”

My phone rings and cuts him off. I dig it out of my purse but frown when I notice the number. Why is she phoning me?

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