Out of Bounds (The Summer Games #2)(23)

I texted Lexi.



Brie: Awake?



When I didn’t get a reply, I pushed out of bed, resigned to spending the next three hours alone. I brushed my teeth and loosely braided my hair before padding down the stairs in search of a distraction. I made coffee and sipped it slowly, staring out the window at the quiet morning. It was nice, really, trees and grass and a baby bunny hopping in the shrubs. Cool, I’m already bored.

I turned and eyed the baking supplies I’d purchased the day before when we picked up a new coffee pot. Flour, sugar, baking soda, and vegetable oil sat in a plastic bag, untouched. It’d pained me to pay for the supplies at checkout, but I knew I’d go crazy if I couldn’t bake for an entire month. Molly had laughed when I’d carried the bag out of the grocery store.

“What are you going to do with all that? We don’t have an oven.”

“I’ll figure it out,” I replied.

And I would figure it out. I had three hours before practice and I wanted to spend it baking.

Without a solid plan, I reached for the overly ripe bananas on the counter and stuffed them into the bag of baking supplies. I pulled my coffee mug off the counter, slipped on flip-flops, and walked out of the guesthouse.

“Holy sh—.”

The morning chill hit me like I was walking into a deep freezer. I kept forgetting I wasn’t in the middle of Texas, where during the summer, it was a solid 95 degrees even in the mornings. I picked up the pace and leapt up the stairs to Erik’s house, careful not to spill my coffee.

Molly had hinted that his house was off limits the other day, but during the team meeting, he’d never told us to stay out. I mean, sure, it was implied, but I pushed my face against the glass window and spotted the exact appliance I needed: an oven.

I angled around to get a better view of the space. The living room was dark and the only light in the kitchen was coming from outside. I lingered there for a few seconds, shivering in my tank top.

Erik was nowhere to be found. He was likely a normal person, still asleep in a warm bed. I walked back around and tried the door off the kitchen. I told myself if it was locked then I’d leave. I wouldn’t break into the guy’s house just to bake some banana bread. To my delight, the door opened without a hitch, and warm air wrapped around me like a hug.

I walked in quietly and shut the door, cringing when the hinges squeaked. I paused, listening. The house was silent. Phew. I set the bag of cooking supplies on the counter and walked toward the staircase off to the side of the kitchen. I peeked around the corner and stared up, trying to spot Erik’s bedroom door. I couldn’t see anything beyond the second floor landing, and it felt wrong to walk up. Breaking into his kitchen was one thing, but walking into his bedroom while he was asleep was straight-up stalker status.

I decided I would be extra quiet, bake as much as I could, as quickly as I could, and then get the hell out of there before he woke up. The beauty of guerilla baking was that if the aroma did wake him up and I was caught, at least I had breakfast to serve as a readymade bribe to secure amnesty. I smiled as I unloaded the bag of groceries onto the counter. I lined everything up in a perfect row, and then started quietly rifling around the drawers and cabinets for measuring cups and mixing bowls. I knew if I organized it the right way, I could make banana bread, blueberry muffins, and a batch of homemade granola before Erik woke up.

Yes. Solid plan. In T-minus 60 minutes, I’d have warm banana bread to share with my team. Even crotchety June couldn’t turn that down.





Chapter Ten


Erik





BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Fuck,” a feminine voice shouted. “Turn off. Turn off!”

BEEP. BEEP. BEERHRHHpppppppppppp…

I sat up in bed and wiped sleep from my eyes, turning to my alarm clock. It wasn’t due to go off for another thirty minutes, which meant the beeping had come from somewhere else.

A door slapped shut and then I heard a metallic clang from the kitchen.

I frowned. Had someone broken into my house to…use my oven?

I whipped the blankets off my legs and pushed out of bed. As soon as I pulled open my bedroom door, the scent of banana bread hit me like a wave. Shit. I hadn’t had homemade bread in years. My mother used to make it every now and then, but it was usually half burned. Baking wasn’t really in her wheelhouse.

I padded down the stairs, confused and now, suddenly starving, but I paused when my foot hit the bottom stair. Brie was standing on tiptoes on my kitchen counter with her back to me, jabbing at my smoke detector with a broomstick. She was barefoot with red pajama pants hanging low on her hips and a loose gray tank top exposing an inch or two of her midriff.

Just beyond her, I caught sight of the mess she’d managed to create in my kitchen. Flour was everywhere, coating the counter and the floor. There were streaks of it on her arms and back. How did she manage to get it on her back?

After silencing the beeping device, she dropped to the ground gracefully and resumed her work with a heavy sigh. She couldn’t see me from my perch near the stairs, so I stood, watching her as she scraped the edge of the bread pan. She turned it over and dumped the fresh loaf onto a plate, and my stomach grumbled at the sight. She spun around and shrieked when she spotted me standing at the bottom of the stairs. The pan was suddenly loose in the air and then a second later, it crashed down onto her big toe.