Page 28 of Merry with Me
As I step out of my car, the front door opens. I stop and stare at the sight before me. Dr. Thompson is in a pair of well-worn jeans and a fitted Henley. Damn. He really is hiding arm porn underneath those dress shirts and suits he wears every day. The shirt fits him like a second skin and leaves nothing to the imagination.
Realizing that I’m standing beside my car in the driveway, just staring at the man, I force my feet to move toward him. “Hi,” I say when I reach the steps. He’s leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Blakely.” He smiles.
It’s a true, genuine smile that I’ve never seen from him before. “I brought my cookie,” I say, holding up the container. You’d think I’ve never talked to the opposite sex a single day in my life the way I’m acting.
“You brought me your cookie?” He arches his brow.
“No. I mean, yes. I brought cookies.” I thrust the container out again, this time hitting his chest. He grabs onto my wrists and, slowly, painfully slowly, takes the container from me. “Come on in. Dinner is ready.”
He turns and walks back into the house, holding the door open for me. I follow him inside, closing the door behind me. He leads me to the kitchen, where the smells make my belly growl. “Wow, it smells amazing.”
“Thank you.” He places the cookies on the counter.
“Wait, you cooked for us?”For meis what I wanted to say, but I caught myself.
“What, you think I can’t cook?”
“No, it’s not that. I just didn’t expect it is all. I assumed you would grab takeout or have something delivered.”
“Have a seat.” He nods to one of the barstools around his massive island. “What would you like to drink?” He rattles off the options.
“Just water is fine. Thank you.”
“Water it is.” He reaches into the refrigerator to grab a bottle, and I can’t help but admire his ass in those jeans. He clears his throat, and my eyes snap to his. His eyes smolder as he holds my gaze before sliding the bottle of water across the counter to me.
“Thank you,” I say, feeling the embarrassment wrap around me like a scarf on a cold winter’s day. Flipping open the top of my messenger bag, I pull my tablet out and turn it on. “The seating charts. I have a good head start, but I need to go over the list of ticket sales one last time since the event just soldout. I want to double check that all the ticket holders are sitting together, if at all possible. There were two people who bought three tickets, but luckily, I can put them both at the same table to even it out,” I ramble.
“Blakely?”
I stop and look up at him. “Yes?”
“Put that away.” Oliver nods toward my tablet.
“But… that’s why I’m here, right? To go over the seating chart.”
“You’re going to eat first. You’ve already put in a long day, and you need to eat.”
“Oh, I can do both at the same time.”
“Put it away, Blake.” His tone is stern, and the hard look he’s giving me tells me he’s not going to be happy until I indeed put my work away. “We eat first.” With that, he gets to work making us both a plate of baked spaghetti and garlic bread. He places my plate in front of me and then sets the other to the right of me before grabbing his glass of sweet tea and taking a seat next to me.
“Thank you for this. It smells amazing.”
He replies with a mumbled, “No problem,” as we dig into our meal. He finishes way before me, but then again, he gave me the same amount as him.
“I don’t think I can eat another bite.” Sitting back, I place my hand on my too-full belly.
“You don’t have to.”
“I hate to be wasteful.”
“It’s fine. Are you finished?” he asks, making sure. I nod, and he takes both of our plates. He scrapes mine off into the trash before rinsing them and placing them in the dishwasher.
“What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. It’s all set. I cleaned as I went, so it’s all done,” he says, starting the dishwasher and then wiping down thecounter. “Why don’t we go sit in the living room where it’s more comfortable? Unless we need the counter space?”