Page 41 of Bang Buddies With Benefits
“If you’re going to suggest I use it to bang on the disposal unit, I already tried that. It only made it angry.”
A chuckle slipped out. “Sounds like a great start. I was just wondering if I needed to swing by my place on my way over and get my tools.”
“I have the basics.”
“Perfect. Hang on just a second for me, okay?” I swiveled my phone so the mouthpiece was up in the air, explained to Zoie that I needed to take off early, and added that I’d deal with inventory tomorrow morning before open so she wouldn’t have to bother with it.
Zoie flashed me a thumbs up, and I rushed outside and climbed on my bike.
“Catalina, I’ve got things at the bar taken care of, so I’m on my way.”
“Thank you so much. And hey, Izaac? I’m going to go ahead and say something I never thought I’d say to you…”
I held my breath while my brain whirred with possible options. Would she tell me that like me, she’d been thinking about me nonstop and couldn’t wait to see me? That she wanted more? Perhaps she’d figured now would be the best time to give me a personal compliment and express her undying gratitude? Basically, anything she said after using my full name would be a win. I swallowed, hard. “Yeah?”
“Make it quick.”
* * *
My brother often teased me about my penchant for disaster movies. I was always so sure that if it came down to an apocalypse, I’d be the muscular action star who strapped himself with weapons, scavenged like a boss, and saved the motherfucking day.
The scene before me shot holes through my illusions as quickly as bar patrons turned surly upon being cut off.
Smoke billowed from a pot on the stove, the fire alarm blared, and Catalina stood in the center of the action, shirt plastered to her chest, the fabric slightly see-through. While normally I’d rush to cast my vote for her in an impromptu wet T-shirt contest, the random chunks of what I suspected was food and the wild gleam in her eye gave me more than pause.
I froze.
Like one of the people who gets devoured by zombies or blasted by aliens within the first five minutes.
That thought sent me moving. I started with the literal flames, grabbing a towel, snagging the handle of the pot, and tossing the entire thing, charred substance and all, in the sink. I turned on the faucet full blast, only processing Cat’s words about not wanting to do that as wetness seeped into the legs of my jeans.
I looked down, my mind scrambling to make sense of what I saw. “I thought the garbage disposal was broken,” I hollered over the blaring of the fire alarm. “Why is water gushing out of the cupboard?”
“Because I thought I was an independent woman who could fix the issue myself, only all I managed to do was loosen the pipe enough for it to spray disgusting water all over me. I put a bowl there to catch it, only it overflowed and…” Catalina jumped on a chair, snagging the kitchen towel off the handle of the oven on the way up, and waved it around the fire alarm, dispensing the smoke until it finally stopped its ear-piercing shriek. “There. Much better. Anyway, that’s when I called you. But I was so distracted that I forgot I’d put chicken breasts on to boil so I could make soup. Until I smelled smoke and the shrieking started and I discovered I’d boiled it dry, so… That’s about when you came in.”
Since the floor was wet, I extended a hand to help her off the chair. Sure enough, her foot slipped on the tile as she stepped down, and I yanked her body to mine to keep her upright. The wince over her soaked shirt colliding with my chest couldn’t be helped.
My libido still sparked, though, no care to the chunks of food also clinging to her shirt and the ends of her hair or charbroil scent hanging heavy in the air.
“Wanna hear something ironic?” She tipped up her chin, and her pretty features hit me like a punch to the gut I’d gladly take over and over again. It wasn’t uncommon for us to go months without talking or seeing each other, but the past three weeks had ruined me, and this week had felt especially long without her in it.
“I do,” I said, digging my thumbs into her shoulders and sweeping them across the tops in an attempt to massage away some of her stress.
“Cooking was supposed to help me take my mind off everything. Instead, my kitchen’s an utter disaster, I completely ruined my dinner, and I most certainly don’t feel relaxed.” She dropped her forehead to my chest, and for the second time since I’d arrived, I froze.
The few times I’d dared to tiptoe into comforting territory or dig into why she was upset in the past, she’d insisted that wasn’t what we were about. For as little as she’d shared, it still seemed like a huge step, and I wanted to show her I could take it—that I could take all she’d give me and make it better.
I wound my arms around her, hugging her tight as I ran my hand down her hair. Whatever was bothering her was likely the same thing we’d never gotten around to discussing last weekend. She’d basically sent me on my way before I could ask about it, and that meant walking a careful line. Especially since this was turning into one of the best hugs I’d ever experienced. I didn’t care about the mess or the water, or that when I shifted my weight to one side, my soggy socks squelched in the grossest of ways.
This was about her, and whatever she needed. And I sensed it involved a lot more than her garbage disposal. Her sniff confirmed as much.
Keeping her secured to me, I towed us backward, until my ass hit the counter.
I tucked my chin atop her head and let her cry it out. Added bonus, her coconut-scented shampoo helped cancel out the charred and swap-tinged air. Best of all, she’d called me, and being the person someone relied on for comfort felt better than I ever expected.
No, that wasn’t quite it. Being the personCatalina Mendesrelied on.
With a loud sniff, she stepped back, swiping at her cheeks. “Sorry, that was melodramatic.”
