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Chapter Twelve

PAYTON

When Lily walks in, it’s like the atmosphere shifts.

I know I’m treading dangerous ground here, but she’s all I’ve thought about since she left.

And as engaging as this book is—the history of hockey, so, of course, INTERESTING—I’ve lost count of how many times I stopped reading to glance toward the door whenever I heard a noise outside.

But then the sound of the lock turning hits my ears, and every fiber of my body comes to life in anticipation of seeing her face. And I’m not disappointed when she walks in, giving me another chance to appreciate how her jeans and floral T-shirt perfectly accent her fit curves.

“So, was it a smashing time or just mildly tolerable?” I grin, expecting either a confirmation that her lunch with Sophie and Mia turned out fun, or more grumbling about how it’s not part of her job. Spoiler alert—I’m hoping it’s the former.

Her expression tells me nothing as she walks over and hands me a small takeout container. “Thought you’d like some hushpuppies.”

I close my book and hold my hand out. “How thoughtful. ”

Our eyes catch as our fingers brush. And I don’t miss how she lingers for a moment.

She frowns, then pulls her hand away. “You didn’t tell me you asked Sophie out once.”

Interesting…she sounds almost jealous. Or is she just annoyed I left out a detail like I did about having a roommate? Yeah, I properly mucked that one up. But in my defense, I genuinely thought I could give my bodyguard the slip. Now I’m rather glad I didn’t…

“I didn’t think about it, to be honest. Is it important?”

She turns around to head toward the kitchen area. “Not in the grand scheme of things, but it might have helped avoid an awkward moment during lunch.”

As much as I want to pop a hushpuppy into my mouth, I set the container down on the coffee table because this discussion just turned more intriguing than fried dough. “How did that wind up part of the conversation?”

She gives me an exasperated look. “You went back to England, and six weeks later, you returned with a wife. They’re curious about our relationship.” She pulls out two mugs and fills the kettle. “Sophie described you as shy, by the way.”

“Did she now?” I remember that day well, and I was somewhat unsure at the moment, come to think of it. Then Luke walked in and made it clear Sophie was off limits, and the rest is history.

“Yes, she assumed I asked you out first.” Lily takes a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“Dare I ask what you told her?”

She’s avoiding my gaze, so I can’t help wondering if this bothered her. I’d be an idiot to deny the chemistry between us, but is it to the point that Lily could feel threatened by my past interest in Sophie?

“That you asked me. I said you flirted with me all evening and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” She unscrews the bottle cap and takes a sip.

“Oh, really now?” I set my book on the coffee table as well.

“No. Of course not.” She smirks at me as if she’s won a game I had no notion of. “I let her make her own assumptions.”

I grunt as I work my way up from the couch. “Like what?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Her exacerbated expression returns in full force, which only makes me think she really was jealous.

“Maybe to you, but I wasn’t there, so enlighten me.” I grin, waiting for her to continue.

She swings her hand through the air in a grand gesture to punctuate her words. “That because you weren’t shy with me, we’re meant to be together.”

I chuckle and pad my way toward the kitchen when the kettle whistles. Might as well tug this delightful thread she’s exposed while I can. “You almost sound jealous, Lily.”

She raises her brows at me and deadpans, “That’s ridiculous.”

The air buzzes between us as I lean on the counter with my good arm a few feet away from her.

The downside of cracked ribs is the pain.

The upside is that if it didn’t hurt so much, I’d probably make a move on Lily right now because I want nothing more than to pull her against me and explore those lush lips.

Then I’d tug her hair loose so I could run my fingers through the silky strands as I kissed her again.

“Payton?”

I shake myself back to reality. “What?”

She squints her eyes at me. “Where did you just go?”

“Sorry. Must be the ribs. They’re aching quite a bit at the moment.” Which is true—I’m overdue for some ibuprofen.

Her suspicious expression shifts to concern. “Sit down. I’ll bring you your tea and some pain medicine. ”

That was a close one. “Thank you, wife. You always take such good care of me.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replies sarcastically.

A few minutes later, Lily brings me a cup of tea, a bottle of water, and two ibuprofen.

“Cheers.”

“You’re welcome.” She walks back to the kitchen, grabs her own mug, and heads toward her room.

“Where are you going?” I sound like a petulant child. What kind of sop am I turning into here? I know it breaks all the rules, but I want nothing more than to take whatever’s forming between her and me to the next level. If she’ll even let me.

A smug grin splits her face. “I have a date with some very important reports and people. You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course not. That’s ridiculous.” I sling her words back at her with a cheeky grin.

And while I’m momentarily proud of my success in seeing her smile slip ever so slightly, I’m borderline bereft when she closes the door, leaving me alone with only my book and a hot cup of tea to keep me company.

And a box of hushpuppies.

It’s time to switch tactics. That’s what I told myself an hour ago when I got the bright idea to make Lily dinner. Not an easy feat with my ribs, but I was determined. I managed to figure out something to cook with minimal movements that didn’t require bending over or lifting heavy items.

That brought me to spaghetti and meatballs, a specialty of mine. Turns out I can roll a ball of raw meat with one hand and fill a pasta pot with water, one measuring cup at a time. Before long, the aromas of tomatoes, garlic, basil, and savory Italian meatballs permeate the kitchen.

As the sauce simmers, I set the table, which looks decidedly bare.

Then I remembered the hibiscus bush outside of my apartment building.

I grab a pair of shears and head out the door with the intention of clipping a few blooms I’m sure won’t be missed.

I’d rather they be lilies for obvious reasons, but these will do in a pinch.

Just as I’m about to clip a third bloom, I see Lily racing toward me, and she doesn’t look happy at all.

“Payton!” She comes to an abrupt stop in front of me, then starts pushing me toward the apartment. “What are you doing?”

I quirk a grin and hold up the flowers. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Get inside. Now.” She hustles me through the door—or rather I let her—and then turns the lock once we’re back in the apartment. “What were you thinking?”

She’s standing there with her hands on her hips, looking at me as if I just broke some cardinal rule. Perhaps I did. “I didn’t see the harm in stepping outside for a moment. Your partner has eyes outside, so I figured it was safe enough.”

She drops her hands to her sides and takes a step closer to me. “Safe enough won’t keep a bullet from piercing that humongous head of yours, and with those broken ribs, a child could take you down in a heartbeat.”

I search the cabinet for a container to serve as a vase and find a tall glass. “I’m sorry. I was only trying to make a special dinner for you. My way of saying thank you for taking care of me.”

Her stern expression falters a smidge and, as she parts her lips to say something, a knock sounds on the front door. “Are you expecting someone?”

I shake my head.

She checks the peephole, then opens the door, still looking rather peevish .

Wade swaggers in, followed by Ethan, Mathéo, Elias, and finally, Luke.

“We thought we’d pay our Pay a visit.” Wade chuckles. “Get it? Pay our Pay…”

Ethan pops him on the arm. “Give the Dad jokes a rest, man.”

Luke grunts. “Sorry. When I told them I needed to stop by and get a few things I forgot, they insisted on coming with me.”

I dart my gaze from Luke to Lily, who’s shooting me a warning look, then another until I finally get what she’s worried about. If Luke goes poking around in his old room, the jig will be up, and they’ll know something isn’t right here.

“A text might have been nice. I was making dinner.”

Wade lifts the lid to my sauce and inhales. “Are these your famous meatballs, Pay-man?” He roams his gaze to the other guys. “Looks like we came just in time, boys. Let’s help Pay wrap this up so he can rest.”

Mathéo takes the flowers and glass from me. “I’ll finish setting the table.”

He proceeds to grab additional silverware and napkins, which tells me they intend to stay. Normally, when this happens, I just go along with the flow. They’re my friends, and I do enjoy cooking for them.

But I had an evening planned that I hoped might warm Lily to the idea of something happening between us. Although, after the stunt I pulled with the flowers, I may as well declare tonight a lost cause.

Elias gets to work, slathering the French bread with the garlic butter I prepared, while Ethan pours in the box of pasta and stirs.

Luke bounces his gaze from Lily to me. “I left my jackets in the coat closet.”

“I’ll help you.” Lily darts over the closet to the left of the front door and helps Luke sift through the hanging articles.

A short while later, another knock sounds. Lily shoots a questioning look my way, to which I shrug. I can’t imagine who else would be stopping by at this point.

She opens the door, revealing Sophie and Mia.

“Surprise!” Sophie gives Lily a hug, then heads toward me, holding a pie. “We brought dessert. Luke texted we were doing dinner here, so Mia and I stopped to pick up a few things for you.”

Mia holds up a grocery sack. “I have the ice cream and whipped cream.”

Suddenly, my intimate dinner for two has turned into a party of nine. Good thing I made a large pot of sauce.

I sigh and head to where Ethan’s stirring and grab another box of pasta from the cabinet. “We’re going to need more.”