Chapter Seventeen
I thought about going in to work after they left, but I’d already called in sick. Logan would grill me on Tuesday when I showed for my next shift. I also thought about texting Devon to let him know Henry was gone. Instead, I grabbed my advanced propulsions systems book and curled up in my chair. I didn’t open it.
My thoughts drifted to Devon and what had happened before we were interrupted. He wanted to see where this would lead as much as I did. It was exciting and terrifying at the same time.
Logistically, it would take a lot of work. We both had full class loads and our internships. He had baseball and I had my job at Stockade. My time was already stretched thin. Adding a new relationship into the mix didn’t make sense.
But it made less sense to ignore these confusing feelings. Yeah, I was still confused. Even with the knowledge that Devon wanted more, I was afraid this was some big cosmic joke. I kept waiting for someone to pop out from behind a plant and yell “gotcha,” which was ridiculous. Risk-taking wasn’t in my nature. And this felt like a huge one. It was second nature to expect the worst.
I fell asleep, waking in the early evening to a soft knock. It was almost five. Had I gone to work, I’d still be there. Whomever was at the door wasn’t someone who knew my schedule. They rapped again.
Ignoring the peephole, I pulled it open and came face-to-face with Devon. “Hey.”
He smiled, almost shyly. “I hoped you were home.”
“You could’ve called.” I stepped back from the door and let him in. That’s when I noticed the grocery bags.
“That would’ve been too logical.” He set the bags on the kitchen counter and ran his hand through damp hair. “And logic keeps going out the window when it comes to you.”
“I know what you mean,” I said as I closed the door and leaned against it.
“You do?” He raised his eyebrows as if he doubted what I said.
“I’m…” I clenched my hands into fists then spread my fingers. “Brutal honesty is required here.” He nodded so I continued. “We’ve always been at odds and I keep waiting for someone to tell me this is all a big joke. That you’re just screwing with my head, with my heart. That you could never…care for someone like me.”
Devon glanced around my apartment before meeting my gaze. “Funny thing is that I have the same thoughts.” He strode toward me and put his hands on my waist. “I can tell you this is no joke. There is no screwing around with your heart or your head. And I already care about you. A lot.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“That’s it?” His lips curled into a teasing grin.
“Um…ditto?”
“I’ll take that.” He bent his head and captured my lips with his mouth, claiming me in a way I’d never known I wanted before. And he broke away much too soon. “If I don’t stop, the food will go bad.”
“Food?” I said, still drunk off his kiss.
“I lost a bet.” He backed away from me, letting go of my waist. “So I’m here to make good on that bet. I believe lobster bisque was requested?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I didn’t doubt that Devon could do what he set his mind to, but I found it hard to believe he could whip up a bisque.
“Nope, I went over to Mom’s after I left practice this afternoon, and we picked out the lobsters together from Finzoli’s market.” He started taking containers out of the bag. “Now, I will confess, she helped cook the lobsters. But if that’s considered a cheat”—he stared at me with humor in his eyes—“I can still owe you.”
I almost giggled. “I think I’ll reserve judgment until after you’re done.”
“Fair enough.” I stood to help him, but he pointed at the wingback. “Sit, woman. I need to concentrate.”
“Bossy much?” I settled into the wingback anyway, even though I wanted to defy the order. It wasn’t a male chauvinistic type of command, but more of an ordered request.
“Yes, I can be.” Devon turned his back on me and began to cook.
He hummed under his breath. I couldn’t tell what song, but it was sexy as hell. All I could do was watch. He danced around the small kitchen, cussing when he burned himself on the touchy gas stove. It was equal parts fascinating and amusing as he conducted himself as his humming crescendoed. He didn’t ask where anything was. The kitchen wasn’t big, so it didn’t take him long to find my mismatched bowls and plates. He set the table and put a basket of bread in the center. He took a large candle out of the last bag and placed it beside the rolls. His phone buzzed and he stepped back into the kitchen to take the pot off the burner.
“Almost done,” he said over his shoulder. “Come on over. I’ll dish it out.”
“Smells delicious.” I said as I moved from the wingback to the small table. “Where’d you learn to cook? Your mom?”
Devon laughed as he stirred the bisque before ladling it into two bowls. “Actually, no. Mom can bake like there’s no tomorrow, but she doesn’t want to set foot in the kitchen when she gets home. My dad makes dinner almost every night. I think it’s his way of winding down after a hard day at JenCar. Anderson rides him pretty hard sometimes.”
“Why doesn’t your dad run the bakery with your mom?”
Devon shrugged and sat across from me. “He loves JenCar.”
I nodded and stared at the bisque. “Looks great.”
“Okay,” Devon said, holding up his hands. “I have a confession to make before you taste this.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“First, I’ve never made lobster bisque before. Second, I’m not that great of a cook.” He grimaced. “I’m not terrible, but I’m not great, either. So if this sucks, I’ll run out and get you anything you want. Anything at all.”
“Pizza?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Then we’ll order delivery,” I said, sticking my spoon into the bowl. “If this sucks.”
“Right.” Devon sighed and put his spoon in the bowl and brought it to his lips. His face soured. “Not sure you should try it.”
I tasted it quickly, letting it glide down my throat. It was damn near orgasmic. “Oh my God.”
“That bad?” he said, scrunching his face in either fear or disgust.
“That good,” I said, taking another spoonful. “This is perfect.”
Devon tried his again. His expression didn’t change. “This is not perfect. It’s disgusting.”
I laughed. “Bisque virgin?”
“Something like that. Mind if I order that pizza anyway?”
“More bisque for me,” I said as I finished my bowl and reached for his.
Devon tapped the app on his phone, only stopping to verify my address. “Are we going to talk about earlier?”
“He’s gone,” I said. “And he’s not coming back.”
“What did he want?”
Me. I kept my gaze on my bowl as I wiped it clean with bread. “He wanted to talk. And to let me know that my father’s opening a used car lot. That’s why he was here with Trevor. To pick up a car.”
“Your brother said the same. He’s a good guy.” Devon kept his tone even and smooth, as if none of this mattered. “Is that all Henry wanted?”
“No,” I whispered. A tiny voice in my head said to lie, but I’d promised myself I wouldn’t with Devon. No matter how unpleasant things might become. “He…he tried to kiss me.”
“Tried to or succeeded?”
I glanced over at him. His hands were gipping the table like he might fly away. His eyes were shut as tight as his jaw was clenched. I put my hand over one of his. “Tried and failed.”
That didn’t have the effect on him I’d hoped for. Instead of relaxing, Devon clenched everything tighter. “Did you want him to succeed?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I stood and went around the table. Devon’s eyes snapped open. I put my hands on either side of his face and kissed him gently. “What does that tell you?”
He pulled me onto his lap. “That maybe I should cancel the pizza.”
“Not so fast, slugger,” I said. Taking a deep breath, I reopened that old wound. “Since we’re doing this whole relationship thing, I want to go slow. We jumped into bed once—”
“Almost twice,” he said with a grin.
“Fine, almost twice, and…” I bit my lip. “I don’t want to rush into it again.” Even though I was ready to rip your clothes off last night. “Is that okay?”
Devon kissed my nose. “Of course. I don’t want you to regret anything else between us, Olivia. We’ve already had two bad swings, I’d prefer not to strike out.”
“Really? A baseball analogy?”
“Get used to it.” He dipped me back, kissing my neck. “I’m all for hitting a true cycle with you, anyway. One base at a time.”