“You should hear about Mac anyway,” Cami says.
“Did you do Mac again already?” Riley practically shrieks.
“Careful, I don’t think the customers across the restaurant could hear you,” I say, and roll my eyes. “But no, I didn’t.”
“But she saw him twice yesterday, once today, and she’s making him dinner tomorrow night.”
“You’re cooking?” Riley asks with surprise.
“Why can no one believe that I can cook?” I ask, throwing my hands in the air. “I have an IQ of a hundred and fifty.”
“That means you’re smart.” Cami shrugs.
“I can read a recipe, for God sake.”
“What are you making?” Riley asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Do something simple, like Caesar salads or something,” Cami says.
“Good idea,” Riley adds.
But now my competitive side is screaming and I want to try something more challenging.
“Maybe I’ll grill steaks.”
“You don’t own a grill.”
“Maybe I’ll make chicken Parm.”
“Just order something from Mia.”
I glare at my best friends. “No. I’m going to make it.”
They both look at each other, and then shrug.
“Good luck,” Riley says.
“You’ll be great,” Cami says with a supportive smile. “And if it’s a disaster, you can always order pizza.”
“You’re both so encouraging,” I grumble, but they just laugh.
Maybe pizza doesn’t sound so bad.
Chapter Eight
~Mac~
I’ve seen her three times in the past twenty-four hours. None of them was on purpose.
It’s almost as bad as torture.
We’re having dinner tonight, only six more hours, and I’m going mad with want. I want her, plain and simple. I’m itching to touch her, to explore her little body, rediscovering her.
And running into her in our building throughout the day is painful.
I’ve decided to get out for the afternoon and meet Chase to shoot some hoops.
Maybe I can sweat her out of my system. Not that sweating helped yesterday when I went for an eight-mile run.
Dressed in workout gear, I grab my wallet and keys and head out. Once I get to the lobby, it shouldn’t surprise me to find Kat waiting for the elevator as I get out.
She’s everywhere. And yet, not once before Friday did I ever run into her. Is the universe just trying to torture me?
“Hi,” she says with a smile. “We meet like this a lot.”
“Seems to be that way,” I reply, and have to make myself not reach out and touch her. “You’re a busy woman.”
“I just went to the store so I can cook you dinner.” She grins, and just like that, I’m hard as a rock.
I have to get this under control before I meet up with Chase, or I’ll never live it down.
“Do you need any help?”
“Oh no.” She shakes her head and walks past me into the waiting elevator. “I’ve got this. I’ll see you later.”
She winks just as the elevator closes, and I’m tempted to say Fuck Chase and follow her upstairs, but decide to work on my patience instead and go meet my brother.
“You’re late,” he says ten minutes later when I find him on the basketball court at our gym.
“Only by five minutes,” I reply, and catch the ball when he throws it at me. For the next thirty minutes, we play a pretty rough game, working ourselves up into a sweat.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asks as he steals the ball and lays it up easily in the basket. “Your head’s not in this.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re thinking about the girl,” he guesses correctly. “Admit it.”
“I’m not actively thinking about her right now.” It’s a lie. I’m thinking of her every minute of every day.
“Right.”
“Just shoot the fucking ball.”
“I’ve been shooting on you. It’s not fun when your opponent doesn’t even try.”
I smirk, steal the ball, and shoot, sinking a three-pointer. “See? I’m fine.”
“Have you seen her?” he asks, and we resume playing.
“Several times. Turns out she lives in my building.”
“No kidding,” Chase says with a smile. “That’s convenient.”
“Maybe.” I shrug and try to block his shot, but he makes the point anyway. “Good shot.”
“Why would it not be convenient?”
“If this ends badly, it could get awkward.”
“You mean if you screw it up and she hates you.”
“Hey.” He’s right. I could totally screw this up. “Actually, you’re right.”
“I know.” He shoots and misses the basket.
“We’re having dinner tonight,” I say. “I can’t wait. I want to get my hands on her.”
Chase smiles. “You’ve got it bad.”
“I don’t have anything,” I reply. “I’m not a kid.”
“You don’t have to be a kid to have a crush,” Chase replies easily. “And you, my friend, have a crush.”
“It’s just dinner.”
“I bet you don’t even make it through dinner before you fuck her.”