Room-maid(60)

“Didn’t you taste the dough?”

“I may not know a lot of kitchen stuff, but I do know you don’t eat batter with raw eggs. That’s how you get salmonella.” Or at least that was the excuse one of Grandma’s cooks had given us as kids to keep us out of the cookie dough.

“So basically, if I didn’t feed you, you’d starve.”

“Something like that,” I agreed.

He went over to the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of eggs. “How do you like your eggs prepared?”

“By somebody other than me.”

“Excellent choice, as that’s what we’re serving here today.” He got out a frying pan and put some olive oil in it. I loved watching him do physical things, the way the muscles tightened and relaxed across his shoulders and back, his arms flexing as he reached for the eggs and the spatula.

“You know, I feel bad that you are always feeding me,” I told him. That he was spending his money on groceries that he would then use to cook for me. Since he’d told me about his mom I’d become uncomfortably aware that I was relying on him too heavily. It made me even more determined to get my finances straightened out so that I could start paying him rent.

“We have a bartering system in place here. You get what you want and I get what I want.”

That was dangerous territory because what I wanted when it came to him did not involve scrubbing toilets or sweeping floors. “You should let me chip in on, like, apartment groceries. I don’t want to be someone else you have to take care of.”

“Maybe I don’t mind taking care of you.”

My pulse quickened, but his back was to me, and I couldn’t see his face. His voice had a weird tone to it and I didn’t know what to make of it.

It felt important, though. But I was too afraid to make a fool of myself by asking him what he meant.

He made the eggs scrambled and we chatted while we sat at the kitchen island and ate. I was in the middle of explaining why my only experiences with baking Christmas cookies didn’t involve me doing any of the creating or baking when he interrupted me, his eyes bright and his voice giddy.

“You know what we should do today? We should go get a Christmas tree. There’s a lot a few blocks over selling them for charity. What do you think?”

I thought it sounded fun and I told him so.

“Then let’s go get ready!” He sounded so excited, like a little kid. It made me laugh.

We put our plates in the sink and retreated to our separate bedrooms. My phone buzzed as I pulled off my yoga pants.

I rolled my eyes when I saw who it was from. Did Brad somehow just know that I was having fun with a man who was not him?



I wanted to text him back and ask if never ever worked for him.

Wanting to get the Big Brad Wolf out of my head, I put on some music and stuck my earbuds in. I danced around the room for a couple of minutes to one of my favorite songs before I took off the rest of my clothes, put on a robe, and headed for the bathroom.

I was singing along when I opened the bathroom door and spotted Tyler . . . getting out of my shower.

For a moment all I could do was gawk, taking in his naked, glistening self.

Then I realized what I was doing. I yanked out my earbuds. “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” I quickly closed the door and started back for my bedroom when the bathroom door swung open.

“Madison! Wait!”

I turned around slowly and tried to keep my gaze at eye level.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I forgot to tell you the drain in my shower’s not working so I have to use yours for a couple of days. The super is sending a plumber on Monday to fix it.”

“Yuh-huh.” My eyes did not stay put and while he had a towel around his waist, he was still dripping wet and my imagination was getting quite the vigorous workout. “Maybe”—my tongue felt dry and too big for my mouth—“you should go, uh, put some clothes on.”

“Yes! Sorry!”

He brushed past me smelling like soap and Tyler and I actually stopped my arms from reaching out for him.

I went into the bathroom, where I let out a deep, shaky breath and locked the door. But whether that was to prevent him from walking in on me or to stop myself from going into his room “by accident,” I wasn’t sure.

The water heated up quickly and I realized that was at least one benefit to sharing the shower. I got in and let the hot water rush over me.

I probably should have felt embarrassed or sorry. But I didn’t.

Well, that wasn’t precisely true. I did feel sorry.

For me.

Because now I knew exactly what I was missing out on.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I offered to take my car, as I figured I would care less about any potential damage from tying the tree to the top. He was so enthusiastic about our trip and next thing I knew we were at the tree lot thanks to his very precise directions, which mostly consisted of things like, “Turn right now! Right now! TURN!”

But unlike my last boyfriend, it didn’t seem to faze Tyler that I was bad with directions. He just took it in stride.

I liked that about him.

I liked a lot of things about him.

Naked, wet things.

I shook my head, trying to get that image out. I was so glad reading minds wasn’t a thing. Especially since Tyler seemed the same as usual while I felt totally awkward about what had happened earlier. He chatted about the research he’d done online about how to pick out the right tree and all the while, like a bad person, I was still mentally undressing him. I knew I shouldn’t be objectifying him so much.