Page 50 of The Mistletoe Bluff
I massaged my forehead, the memory of the kiss replaying in my mind over and over. If I hadn’t had that stupid dream, I never would haveeverdared to kiss Oliver.
The dream flashed through my head and my face burst into flames.
Ugh.
Of course, I would have a dream about him while we were stranded in his car, sharing a blanket, and cuddling to stay warm. I smacked my forehead repeatedly.
So stupid, Maya.
“Everything okay?” Oliver asked, making me jump.
I looked over my shoulder to find him leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, wiping his hands with a towel, a giant smirk on his face.
Like the couch had become a trampoline, I sprang to my feet and started fluffing cushions that absolutely did not need it. Oliver’s long dark-gray couch was the most comfortable thing I’d ever sat on, the fabric soft as a baby’s butt and the cushions plump yet squishy.
Really, Maya? His couch is like a plump baby’s butt?
Oliver watched me smacking and punching the pillows, the corners of his mouth twitching, probably to keep from laughing at my ridiculous display.
“What are you doing?” he asked after a few more moments of my insanity.
“Oh, err, nothing!” All the words had escaped from my brain, and only gibberish was left.
It was just a kiss, Maya! Why are you acting like a complete fool?
My body was full of anxious energy, and I had to keep moving. After I had smacked the crap out of the couch, I moved on to straightening the small stack of books that was laying on the coffee table—even though they were straight already—banging my knee in the process.
Oliver was going to think I’d lost my mind.
I bent down, looking at the books from every angle to make sure each corner was aligned, ignoring the ache in my knee. Warm hands circled my arms, pulling me upright.
“Maya?” Oliver asked as he turned me to face him, a strange mix of amusement and concern flickering in his eyes. “What’s the matter?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t tell Oliver that I was unable to stop thinking about our kiss in his Jeep—or how much I wanted to do it again. He’d never let me live it down and would tease me endlessly for the rest of the time he was forced to be my chauffeur.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said through a fake smile. Oliver didn’t look convinced.
“Hmm, well, as convincing as that was,” he said, backing away and heading into the kitchen. “Dinner is ready if you’re hungry.”
The wordshungry for your kissessat on the tip of my tongue, and I bit down hard to keep them at bay, nodding with a closed lip smile. I followed him into the kitchen where the smell of meat and potatoes engulfed me.
A small groan escaped through my lips at the glorious aroma, and Oliver quirked an eyebrow. My cheeks burned beneath his gaze.
He dished out mashed potatoes on a plate before plopping sausages on top. Then he poured two glasses of rosé and led me into the little dining room. A small square table sat against the wall, one chair on each side. A long red candle with a dancing flame sat in the middle, a loaf of bread next to it. He set our plates down and I followed with the glasses before we each took a seat.
My stomach gurgled again as I tried not to drool over my food.
“This looks good,” I said, trying to maintain nonchalance. It might have been as simple as meat and potatoes, but it smelled divine, and I briefly entertained the idea of sticking my face into it like a child.
“Better than ramen?”
I picked up my fork and scooped up a bite of potatoes. “That’s yet to be determined.”
Oliver’s smirk had my ears turning to little flames as I popped it in my mouth.
The first bite was stupid good. So good that I almost got up and did a little cheerleading cheer.
“Definitely better than ramen,” I murmured, hating to admit that my archnemesis was right about the food, and that he was also a very good cook.
