Page 64 of King of Hollywood

Chapter thirteen

Ihad the most brilliant idea the day after our second date. I’d always been a bit…obsessive. Call it what you will—but it was part of who I was. After visiting Felix’s home, it was like a dam had broken and I …couldn’t seem to turn it off.

I could not stop thinking about him.

All day.

When I was writing spreadsheets, I thought of him. When I was warding off Harold’s well-meaning lunch invites, I thought of him. When I drove home—and passed a cop car—I thought of him.

My head was in the clouds. But it wasn’t until I received an unexpected visitor that I knew what to do with my newfound obsession.

It was after dark. I’d been meal prepping for the next week at work, and the doorbell rang. Immediately, my hackles raised. The only person who visited me this late was Barry (the bore). I’d already received the note on my door inviting me to his annual Summer Bash at the end of August, and I worried—like with the fair—he would try to rope me into doing something to help him.

I’d rather eat my own leg.

If he asked me to bring coleslaw I was going to scream.

It was different if I brought something on my own. That only meant that I’d decided to be generous that day. Or that I’d had extra time on my hands. If Barry asked me to bring something it became an obligation and I hated those. So much.

Teeth gritted, my brow lowered into my most intimidating scowl, I made sure my apron was tied before wiping my hands off on it and heading to the front door. When I yanked it open, I was prepared to yell.

That became unnecessary the moment I saw who my guest actually was.

“Felix,” I perked up, my scowl melting away, despite how hard I tried to keep it in place. I couldn’t have him realizing how giddy he made me, could I? That would give him too much power over me.

“Hi, Marshall.” Felix smiled at me. “I like your apron. You look…very domestic.”

“Domestic?” I frowned down at my apron, unsure if that was a good thing. It was frilly. Winnie had given it to me as a gag gift one year, but I liked it, so I often wore it when I was cooking. I hadn’t brought it to Felix’s house the night before. But that was because we weren’t apron-level-lovers yet. At least…we hadn’t been, until the end of the night.

Now we’d gotten to first base.

So I supposed it was alright if he saw my frills.

“Yes,” Felix nodded, biting his lip, his sharp little incisors flashing. “Domestic.”

It felt like a compliment, so I let it be one.

“You look…” I scanned him, head to toe, my own cheeks flushing as I tried to come up with a compliment of my own. “Soft.”

Felix’s smile widened. “Soft?”

“Cuddly,” I added, clearing my throat, my entire face hot. “Like a baby horse.” We’d had a few throughout my childhood and their fur always looked like that. Fuzzy. Downy. Sweet.

“Thank you.” Felix’s shoulders looked particularly delicious today. His sweater was pale pink, a perfect complement to the baby blue I was sporting. It clung to his frame, highlighting every curve, the collar dipping low enough I could see his collarbones.

The way it swooped reminded me of his pajamas.

Damn. I should’ve paid more attention the one and only time I’d seen them.

What a waste.

I wish I could see them again.

Felix’s hair was curling around his slightly pointed ears, his hat perched on top of his head. There were still dark circles under his eyes, but the sadness that normally lingered was missing. Instead he looked…excited? Huh.

The scent of something buttery and sweet filled my nose, and I cocked my head at him, gaze finally swiveling from his face down to the box he carried.

“Is that…” I blinked, flummoxed. “A pie?”