Page 63 of Desperate Pucker
Maddy
When I wake up, it’s dark in the living room.
My bladder is screaming at me, so I stand up and shuffle to the bathroom. When I come back out into the living room, I notice the sound of the dryer running in the hallway. Did Ryker do a load of laundry for me?
I walk over to check it out and stop in front of my open bedroom doorway. The bed has been stripped. Even the mattress pad is gone. He must have washed all of my bedding while I was passed out on the couch. I grip the door frame, blown away by how thoughtful it was for him to do that.
When I walk back into the living room, my eyes have adjusted to the darkness. I notice Ryker sleeping on the armchair. His head rests back against the top, and his long legs are sprawled out in front of him. Bruce hops up onto his stomach, and I laugh, covering my mouth so I don’t wake him.
Bruce starts to knead his paws along the fabric of Ryker’s shirt. I’m about to walk over and grab him, but Ryker opens his eyes. He leans up and looks down at Bruce.
“What the hell are you doing?” he mutters.
“He’s making biscuits,” I say.
Ryker looks up at me. “He’s what?”
“Making biscuits.” I laugh. “Cats do that when they’re very comfortable in a spot.”
Ryker’s frown deepens. “Your cat is deeply weird.”
I laugh again, then walk over, scoop up Bruce, kiss his fuzzy head, and set him down on the couch.
Ryker sits up on the chair and stretches out his neck. “What are you doing up?” he asks.
“Bathroom.” I pause for a second. “Thanks for washing my bedsheets.”
“My pleasure.” He stands up. “You hungry?”
I nod. He heads for the kitchen and flips the light on. And that’s when I see all the food on my counter. Bananas, potatoes, a bag of rice, oatmeal, ginger tea, peanut butter, and cans of chicken broth and vegetable broth.
“What’s all this?”
“You had no food in your kitchen,” he says, pulling out a loaf of bread from the fridge. I look inside and see that it’s stocked too. There’s ginger ale, electrolyte drinks, coconut water, applesauce, eggs, carrots, herbs, and what looks like a giant pot of more soup.
“You cooked?” I say, stunned.
He nods and grabs a banana from the counter along with the jar of peanut butter.
“You still want something sweet?” he asks.
I nod. He pops a slice of wheat bread into the toaster on my counter and grabs a small cutting board from the drawer next to him. He peels the banana and slices it.
He opens the refrigerator again, grabs a container of coconut water, and hands it to me.
“How did you know I like coconut water?”
The bread pops up from the toaster, and he grabs it, then spreads peanut butter on it.
“I heard you and Ingrid talking about how much you like it one of the nights we were all hanging out at Spanky’s.”
He layers banana slices on top of the peanut butter bread slice and plates it up.
“Let’s go sit down,” he says.
I walk back to the couch and sit next to Bruce. Ryker hands me the peanut butter banana toast, and I take a bite.
I close my eyes and hum at the sweet taste. “This is so good.”
