Page 82 of Delicious (Delicious #1)

Chapter Three

Ryder

“C an you hand me the whisk?” I held out my hand.

Marti shrugged and started touching the utensils in my urn. “That’s the flat thing, right?”

“How do you survive?” I laughed and walked over to grab it out of the urn beside the stove. It was easier than trying to explain it to Marti.

“I have a microwave, an Uber Eats account, and prefer to be served by someone as often as possible.” He walked over to the other side of the island and picked up his wine glass.

“That is a very loaded statement. Seems to me you’re not getting served enough.”

“Dick jokes” he groaned. “You always have a dick joke.”

“That was actually a sad sex joke that didn’t even mention the peen.”

“Oh, God… Peen?” He cackled. “I hate when you use that word.”

“Which is why I always use it.” I put my fingers in the flour and made a cavity in the middle.

“You might as well have whispered moist in my ear,” he scrunched up his handsome face. His brown eyes were as deep as wells. Martin thought about everything way too much – he always had.

“Can you push the eggs over to me?” I grinned. “They are inside the gray container right in front of you.”

“Smartass. Eggs, I can handle.”

“Should I ask you to crack one?” I smirked.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Why don’t you use the premade noodles like everyone else?”

I gasped and stared at him. “You just murdered my grandma.”

“I mean… I love your grandma. I’m sorry I killed her with an innocent question.”

“Food isn’t meant to be processed. It’s meant to be therapy – at least, it is for me. Cooking my family recipes makes me feel closer to them. It’s why I’ve been cooking that sauce on low for the last couple of hours. And I didn’t open a can to do it. It’s all fresh.”

“You’re fresh.”

“I don’t think that’s the burn you think it is.”

“It’s not Mister Chef.” He shrugged and pulled the stool out to sit. He leaned onto the large island that had become my messy prep space. “Making pasta is messy.”

I cracked the egg into the well I had created in the flour. “It’s fun. You wanna do it?”

“I think I prefer watching you. Besides, it’s safer. I’d hate to mess up your family recipe. That sauce smells so good. Maybe I should move back here and move in with you. That way I’d eat so much better.”

“I don’t cook like this every day, Marti. After a busy day cooking for others, the last thing I usually want to do is cook when I’m home.”

“But you would?”

I nodded. “For you, I probably would. Are you even being a little bit serious right now? You could totally move in if you wanted to. Do you hate Vegas that much?”

“I think I might. I… You would probably learn to hate me. I’m not a very good roommate,” he scoffed.

I looked at him and smiled. “I know every quirk of yours. I think we’d be just fine.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I think we would be, too. Have you ever…” He drifted off and left me hanging. I waited and then shook my head. He did this sometimes when he wanted to avoid something. It was just who he was. But I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily.

“You gonna finish that question? I have evered lots of things.”

He glanced back at me and grimaced. “Have you ever played the what-if game?”

“I…” I kneaded the dough gently with my fingers. “Is it a board game?”

“No, it’s… Have you ever thought about a choice you made and how… if you had made a different choice, what might have happened? Like how your life would be different.”

“Oh!” I grinned. “Daily.”

“Me too. It’s depressing to think that my might have been is better than my reality.”

“Isn’t that true for all of us, though? If I had gone to a better college, or had never broken up with that guy or the other.”

“If I hadn’t taken a job in another city instead of staying in the one place that’s always felt like home.”

“Ah…” The point had been finally made. “You miss Colorado that bad?”

“I wasn’t actually talking about the state or the city,” he muttered and glanced down at the floor. “I was… You know what? It’s silly, so… Let’s just move on.”

“No. There is nothing silly about you except for your taste in sweaters, which is brilliantly garish. But it’s also so very you. What are you trying to say?”

“I missed you. You’re home to me.” It was barely more than a whisper, but it sounded so loud to me.

My stomach twisted, flipped, and then punched me. “You’re home to me, too. I was serious about you moving in with me, you know?” I grabbed a towel and wiped off my fingers.

“I… God, my mind is just a fucking mess.” He blushed.

“Maybe we should quiet it down with something else?”

“Dinner is not done. Hell, you haven’t even cooked the noodles.”

“I haven’t even made the noodles. But… I was thinking of something else.”

“What?”

“You know what? If I’m going to hell, I might as well just…” I walked around the island and placed his face between my hands. “Just go with me on this, ok?”

I leaned down and pressed my lips against his. I could feel his body stiffen in surprise at the contact. His lips were so soft and warm. I let them linger for a moment. Then fear shot through me like lightning. I began to pull away, and his hand ran over the back of my neck.

Our kiss deepened. His lips parted. My heart raced as I slowly pressed my tongue against his. My heart steadied as our breath became one.

But my mind raced as my best friend and I kissed. What had I done? Had I changed everything? Would it be for the better, or would all of the fears I had felt become true?

His hand slid off my neck and cupped my cheek. He slowly pulled back.

“What was that?” He narrowed his eyes.

“I…” I stood there and couldn’t figure out what to do with my hands. I felt like an idiot.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“But…” My feet felt like lead, and all I could do was stand there and look anywhere else in the room but at him.

“No buts.” He reached out and took my hand in his. “I love you. I… I’m just a little surprised that you… I mean, that’s what that meant, right?”

“Love you? With all of my heart, Marti. But since you’ve been gone, I… I wondered why it hurt so much that you weren’t here. I thought maybe… I thought I might be alone in this, you know?”

“Me too. But it scares me, Ryder? Do you know what I’m saying?”

“I do. My heart is about to jump out of my chest, man.”

“Maybe we have some sorting out to do then? What if … Right?”

“Maybe there is no what if? Maybe there’s just the choice we have now.”

“I’m not sure which one scares me the most,” he chuckled. “You’re the only person that… I mean, come on… You’re the only person that matters to me.”

“Maybe that’s all that matters?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“So…”

“Let’s make dinner and then eat. Let’s see. But honestly, I’m starving.”

“You always did think with your stomach.”

“Guilty,” he giggled in a very Marti way that made my stomach flip. It sounded like music. “Did you just put your hands on my face after playing with an uncooked egg?”

“Guilty. Hopefully you won’t die.” I laughed as I walked back.

Hope… It was a terrifying thing.