Page 64 of Word to the Wise

I shrug, popping a few blueberries in my mouth. “I just figured you’d want to eat something more than burgers and bean burritos.”

“That’s—” She shakes her head, and I feel bad because I didn’t mean to make her feel guilty about it.

It’s not like it’s felt like work. If anything, every time Reed eats something I’ve made, it’s one of my greatest accomplishments.

I’m officially pathetic.

“It’s no big deal.” I stab a piece of cantaloupe. “I probably needed to start eating better anyway.”

She blinks, and her eyes gloss over. “I can’t believe you learned to cook for me.”

Reed still doesn’t see she’s worth it. That any man worth his nuts would be an idiot not to do everything he could think of to make her happy. It’s become my goal to chip that away one piece at a time.

Dropping her gaze to her plate, she pops the egg, and it spills over the egg white. All that trouble, making sure she got the perfect one, and she pops it in an instant. I love that. Because it doesn’t matter what I put into it, it was perfect for her.

She digs into her breakfast in silence, glancing at me every so often. I appreciate that she can be playful, but she can also enjoy the quiet moments. Silence doesn’t feel awkward with her, and I don’t feel the need to fill it.

When we’re done eating, I collect both our plates and bring them to the sink where she washes them. It’s so domestic I’d probably be worried I’m giving off the wrong impression if she were any other girl. But as she scrubs the egg yolk from one of the plates, I’m hating Carter even more.

He had this—he had her—and he let her go.

Worse, he hurt her.

While I’m standing here, taking anything she’ll offer me. Knowing she’s nowhere near ready for where my head is at, but that it doesn’t erase the thoughts.

The last thing she’s probably looking for is another relationship. And while I never wanted one myself, that changed the moment she started living here.

So I appreciate these little moments when she’s willing to share them with me. At some point, she’ll realize she’s traded one fucked up man for another. And even if our faults are nothing alike, she’s not going to want to fix someone again.

“You’ve got a lot on your mind at eight-thirty in the morning.” She adds more soap to the sponge, filling the sink with bubbles.

I drag my hair back. “Long day at the shop. Just planning it out.”

The last thing I need is for her to sense my insecurity. I’m not the kind of guy who questions what women think about him. If I show her that side, she’s going to really think I’m pathetic.

“Mm-hmm.” She smiles but doesn’t call me out on my shit.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, a trail of soapy bubbles transfer to her cheek, and a bead of water tumbles to her shoulder.

“Now who’s being distracting?” She glances over at me, her gaze pausing on the bulge forming in my sweatpants.

There’s no use trying to hide it, one drop of water dripping down her skin, and I’m imagining it being other things.

“I think the dishes are clean enough.”

Grabbing her by the hips, I spin her from the sink and pick her up, setting her on the kitchen island.

“Mason, I’m getting water everywhere,” she shrieks, dragging her wet hands down my chest.

“Yep. Don’t care.” I grab the hair at the back of her head and pull her lips to me.

I silence her arguments as her honeydew-flavored tongue dances with mine. Her fingers roam my stomach, slowly drawing a path to my sweatpants. And when she dips her hand under the band, she finds my cock hard and aching. Her fingers wrap around it, and I sink my teeth into her lower lip.

“You’re about to make me even less of a gentleman.” I groan as she holds me tighter. “Keep that up, and I’m not going to care if you’re still sore.”

“I am still sore.” She shoves my sweats down, releasing my cock. “Fuck me anyway.”

This girl.

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