My Unexpected Vow: California Billionaires Book 2 by Harlow James (children's ebooks free online TXT) 📗

“It’s okay. Everyone does it, Waverly. But damn, I didn’t know your ass could smell that bad.” He grins playfully at me, in a way in which I can’t decipher whether or not he’s playing with me. And I guess I should just be grateful that he’s back to teasing me and not mentioning our kiss still.

Sometimes you have to look for the positive, right?

I gather that my yoga session is over now that Hayes is home. He went golfing with my brother today since it’s Saturday. Apparently, they golf at least once a month.

“Did you go grocery shopping?” Hayes asks as he eyes the produce sitting on the counter.

“No, I went to the farmer’s market with Emma. We used to go every week when I lived with her, but we haven’t been since I moved in here.”

“Are you planning on cooking tonight?” A bag of spaghetti and a jar of sauce rest next to the vegetables I purchased for a salad.

“Well, I figured I’d give it a shot. I’m not the best cook, but spaghetti can’t be that hard, right?”

Hayes shrugs. “I guess not. But I can’t help in that department. I’m not knowledgeable in the kitchen. We’ve had this conversation.”

“I’m just tired of eating out. It’s not good for us, you know?”

Hayes leans his hip against the counter. “Aw, are you worried about my heart, Wifey?”

I push him playfully against his chest, the hardness of his muscles reminding me of what’s under that plain black shirt. “Well, you said so yourself that I’ve almost given you a few heart attacks in the last two months. Better make sure it’s not your nutrition that you can blame it on.” I wink at him as he smiles.

“Well, then what are you waiting for, honey? Cook me dinner.”

“You’d better watch yourself, Hayes, or I’ll poison your food and no one will think otherwise.”

“Ah, on the contrary. When the husband drops dead suddenly, it’s always the wife that they suspect first.”

I move around him, reaching for a pot and filling it with water from the sink. “I don’t know. I always felt I’d be pretty good at getting away with murder.”

“Not with the way your hair falls out, you won’t. They’d pin it on you in a heartbeat.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

* * *

“How do you fuck up spaghetti?” Hayes moves the noodles around his plate and I chew on a few uncooked ones in my mouth, forcing myself to swallow them.

“I don’t know,” I say through a laugh, pushing my plate to the side and sliding my bowl of salad in front of me instead. “But I definitely succeeded. I don’t know how Emma always made cooking look so easy.”

“I really had faith in you, Wave. And you just proved that neither of us belongs in a kitchen.”

“Well, at least I didn’t burn water.” My rebuttal is based on Hayes’s own confession earlier.

“It was an honest mistake. I forgot the pan was on the stove and then the next thing I knew, the smoke alarm was going off.”

I stab a few pieces of lettuce and a bright red wedge of tomato onto my fork. “At least the salad is good.” Stuffing the bite into my mouth, I catch Hayes’s eyes glance down to my lips before he grabs his own bite of salad.

“That it is.”

Eyeing my pathetic excuse for dinner on the plate to the side of me, I let out a sigh. “Man, I really wanted spaghetti.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“We have to learn how to cook, Hayes,” I state, focusing back on him in his chair across from me.

“We?”

“Yes, we. I can’t eat fast food for four more months. And not to sound rude, but I’m kind of shocked you don’t have someone like Grace to cook and clean for you,” I say, referencing my brother’s housekeeper that is more like a surrogate grandmother to him. The woman used to work for my grandfather, but when he died and Wes took over the company, Grace slid right into the position for my brother. The woman cares for him like her own son and is one hell of a cook.

“I’m not home much for someone to bother cooking for me, especially at night. And I hate to break it to you, babe, but Grace’s are hard to come by.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I actually have been home more at night in the past two months than I have in the past year.” He shrugs like his confession isn’t a monumental one, but I can’t help but read more into it. I wonder why he’s been home more. Is it because of me? Does he not trust me in his home, or does he crave my company like I’m beginning to crave his?

“No fancy parties or club openings that you can’t stand to miss?” I stand from the table, clearing my plate as I go, avoiding his face as I await his answer. Scraping my plate into the trash, I feel his warm body come up behind me as he waits to do the same.

And the proximity, the minuscule amount of space between us sparks electricity that makes the hair on my arms stand up. What would he do if I leaned back into him, pressed my ass into his crotch? Would he freak out, or would he grip my hip and pull me closer?

Jesus, Waverly. Get a hold of yourself.

“Nope,” he answers. “Seems I’m leading a much more simple life these days.”

I twist to face him, and our mouths are much closer than I thought they would be when I turned around. And I hate the way I can’t help but glance up at his lips, the fullness of his mouth calling to me just like it did the night I satisfied an itch by kissing him.

“Don’t feel like you have to miss out on your old life because of me, Hayes. I’m a big