Page 7 of Fake Dating the Next-Door
A laugh bubbles out of me, and something in his expression softens at the sound.
"What about you?" he asks, leaning against my counter in a way that makes him look impossibly more attractive. "How are your spices organized?"
"Bold of you to assume they're organized at all." I check the oven timer. "Five more minutes on the lasagna. Want to sit?"
We move to my small dining table, which I've actually cleared of work materials for once. The wildflowers make a cheerful centerpiece, their casual beauty somehow perfect for this not-quite-date.
"So," I say, taking another sip of beer for courage. "Tell me something about yourself that a girlfriend of three months would know. Something not in your military resume."
Garrett seems to consider this, rolling his beer bottle between his palms. "I have trouble sleeping," he says finally. "Nightmares, sometimes. From my last tour."
The admission surprises me. It's more personal than I expected. "Is that why you're always up so early?"
He nods. "Hard to stay asleep past 5 AM when you're trained to function on four hours for years. The dreams don't help."
I resist the urge to reach for his hand. "I'm sorry. That must be hard."
"It is what it is." He shrugs, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. "Your turn. Something I should know about you."
I consider what to share… Something true but not too revealing. "I'm terrified of disappointing people," I admit. "Especially my parents. I act like I don't care what they think, but... I do. Too much, probably."
Garrett's eyes meet mine, and there's understanding there that makes my chest tighten. "What do you think would disappoint them more. You being single or you dating someone like me?"
The question catches me off guard. "Someone like you?"
"Older. Military. Not exactly the successful businessman type I'm guessing they want for their daughter."
I shake my head. "They'd actually love that you were military. My dad's brother served. And they're so desperate for me to settle down they'd probably be thrilled with anyone who seems stable and responsible." I laugh lightly. "The age gap might raise eyebrows, but they'll be too busy being grateful I'm not dating another 'starving artist' to complain."
"Another?" His eyebrow raises.
"My college boyfriend was a sculptor. Very passionate about his art, less passionate about things like paying rent or remembering my birthday." I wave dismissively. "Ancient history."
"He sounds like an idiot," Garrett says, his voice suddenly hard.
The timer on the oven beeps, saving me from having to respond to the unexpected intensity in his tone. I jump up, grateful for the distraction.
"Moment of truth!" I announce, pulling oven mitts shaped like lobster claws from a drawer. They were an impulse buy that make me smile every time I use them.
Garrett stares at them, looking torn between amusement and confusion. "Those are..."
"Practical and fashionable," I finish for him, grinning as I slide them on. "Don't be jealous you don't have lobster hands."
I could swear I see him fighting a smile as I open the oven and carefully extract the lasagna. The cheese is bubbling, golden brown on top, and it smells heavenly.
"It looks perfect," I breathe, setting it on the stovetop. "I've never managed to get the layers right before. This is a good omen for tomorrow!"
"I'm sure your parents would love you even if you served them a terrible lasagna," Garrett says, coming to stand beside me.
The comment is so unexpectedly gentle that I look up at him in surprise. He's closer than I realized, close enough that I can smell his soap—something clean and woodsy—and see the faint scar that runs along his jawline.
"That's..." I swallow hard. "That's a nice thing to say."
His eyes hold mine for a long moment. "I can be nice. Sometimes."
The air between us feels charged, and I suddenly can't remember what we were talking about. All I can focus on is how hisproximity makes my heart race, how different he looks when his expression softens like this.
I clear my throat, stepping back. "We should let it cool for a few minutes before cutting into it."
