Page 84 of Bottle Shock
She claims a barstool at the kitchen island while I take stock of the fridge. In truth, I’d planned on throwing together a sad excuse for a salad with what’s left of the vegetables—and I’m definitely not serving that to Scottie. Nothing says romance like wilted produce.
“Chicken okay?”
She nods, elbows on the counter, watching me—curious.
As I pat the chicken dry and pull the seasonings from the cabinet, I ask, “How was your day? Other than the unwanted visitor, I mean.”
“It was good. I stopped by the realestate office before my showing and my dad asked me if you had been creepy with me.” She giggles, like the thought is ridiculous. “He asked if I had a lock on my door.”
I slice a lemon and squeeze it over the chicken, casting her a brief smile. “What did you tell him?”
Her smile widens. She rests her chin in her palm. “The truth. That you’re literally so creepy, staring at me through the windows. Basically a peeping Tom.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m sure he loved that. He’s probably on his way now with a pitchfork.”
She laughs, shaking her head. “Just kidding. I told him you haven’t been creepy at all, but he didn’t look totally convinced.”
While the chicken marinates, I chop cucumber, tomato, red onion, Kalamata olives, and a handful of fresh parsley.
Scottie glances at her phone, then stands and opens the fridge, grabbing one of the insulin pens I told her to keep here. I’m glad now that I did. She settles back onto the stool, dials in her dose, and gives herself a quick injection beneath the table.
“Can’t say I blame him,” I say, picking up where we left off. “If Lily was shacking up with some guy, pool house or not, I would’ve already run a background check on him while quietly plotting his murder.”
She sighs, eyes bright with amusement. “That poor girl. You’re not going to let her date until she’s thirty.”
“Nah.” I shake my head. “Twenty-nine. I’m not a monster.” I grab a box of quinoa from the pantry and get water boiling. “And tell your dad I’m planning to switch your lock to one of those keypad ones. You can give him the code if you want.”
Her head tilts, forehead creasing. “Why would you do that? The lock works just fine.”
“So you don’t have to worry about keeping track of a key,” I say, flipping the chicken to start it cooking.
Scottie inhales, eyes on me, the corners of her lips turning down—not a frown, but not a smile. “Thank you,” she says softly. And I get the feeling it means more to her than just a lock. Like maybe it’s the first time someone’s tried to make her life easier.
“So,” she starts, sliding on a smile, trying to look unaffected. “You mentioned having to tell me something.”
Right. I almost forgot.
“Ethan called me into his office today.” Her brows lift. “He asked why I added another dependent to my insurance, so I told him the truth.”
She sucks in a breath. “And what did he say?”
“That he’d keep it a secret from everyone except Marisa.”
Her shoulders sag, relief flashing across her face. “I wish it stayed between us, but if anyone was going to find out, Ethan and Marisa are the last people I’d worry about spreading it around.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as I stir the quinoa. “I should’ve talked to you first.”
“I don’t expect you to lie to your brother for me.”
The chicken sizzles as I set the lid on the pan. “But you should be able to trust me. To know that what happens between us stays between us.” I wipe my hands and move to stand in front of her. “My family is important to me, but so are you.”
We stare at each other for minute that seems to stretch beyond that—time stalling.
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, gnawing gently, and it completely undoes me.
In another life, this could be real. Me cooking dinner for my wife, her telling me about her day, but in the real version, dinner would get cold because I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from scooping her up in my arms, taking her back to our bedroom, and making love to the woman of my dreams.But that’s not our life, so I stay on my side of the island and she stays on hers.
I finish cooking dinner while Scottie talks about her showing—some client her parents pawned off on her because she hasn’t been landing many on her own. Besides me.
