“Sure. Thanks.” I put my phone down and turned. Lauren didn’t say anything else. She was intent on keeping her back to me as she busied herself straightening things that didn’t need straightening and wiping down countertops that were already perfectly clean.
I tried to hide my grin. For someone who was so ballsy last night about dragging me into her room, she was real shy right now.
She was desperately trying to avoid eye contact with me. I was desperately trying to make it. It was like a new, weird game that was kinda fun—like a staring contest, but backward.
“Stop staring at me,” Lauren said without looking over her shoulder. She grabbed the toast as it popped. “What do you want on your toast?”
“No, and do you have peanut butter?”
“No. I hate peanut butter.”
“How can you hate peanut butter?”
“Because I have tastebuds. It’s Nutella, strawberry jelly, or butter.”
I sighed. “Nutella is fine.”
“No.” She turned and pointed a knife at me. “Nutella is not fine. Nutella is the nectar of the gods.”
“Oh no, are you one of those people who eat it from the jar with a spoon?”
“Only when Mother Nature sends me my monthly love letter.” She spread the chocolate onto my toast with a flourish, plated it, and handed it over. “Otherwise, I try to control the urge.”
I looked at the toast. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.”
“Was it the monthly love letter thing?”
“Little bit.”
“What else should I call it? Shark week? The red river? The hormone war?”
“Just referring to it as your period would suffice.” I sat on one of the stools. “And please don’t ever say ‘the red river’ again.”
She watched as I bit into my toast. “I thought you said you weren’t hungry anymore.”
“I wasn’t. But I’m a man. I had a moment, but it passed.” I tore another piece off with my teeth.
Lauren rolled her eyes as she tugged a stool around slightly and sat down. “Of course it did.”
My phone buzzed on the counter, and I leaned over. It was a message from Trevor asking if I wanted to grab a beer tonight. I replied that I did before sitting back down.
Lauren finished her toast before I did. I was about to speak when Henry bounded up onto the counter out of absolutely fucking nowhere and sat on my plate.
“That’s okay, Henry. I was finished.”
Lauren jolted around. “Oh, my God! Is he sitting on your toast?”
“Yep.”
“Henry!” She darted over and grabbed the cat, then lifted him up. “Now you have a Nutella butt!”
“Does that cat ever sit anywhere appropriate?”
“Yes, the window, but only when the sun hits it right. Ugh, now I have to bath him.”
“Better you than me.”
“Wait, you aren’t going to help me?” Her eyes widened.
I finished my coffee and laughed. “No. He’s not my cat.”
“He sat on your toast!”
“It’s not my fault your cat has issues. It’s not even an “If I fits, I sits” situation, Lauren. He just…sits. Whether he fits or not.”
She jutted out her lower lip. “Please. Have you ever bathed a cat?”
“No, and I don’t ever intend to. I don’t even think I like cats.”
“How can you not like cats?”
“Easily. I’ve met yours twice, and he’s sat on my head and now, my toast. He’s not really trying to endear himself to me.”
“Mason, please. Just five minutes. I need to shower off his butt.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Pleeeease.”
“No. That’s the end of it. No.”
***
“You held her cat while she showered him off?” Trev chuckled. “You’re whipped, man.”
I sighed and rubbed at my arm where Henry had left me with a four-inch-long present. “I’m not whipped. She was just… fucking looking at me with big doe eyes. I couldn’t say no.”
“You could have, you just chose not to.”
“Actually, I did say no. About eight times. She just wore me down.”
“Jesus. She’s persistent.”
I laughed. “You have no idea. It’s one of her better traits. Right up there with a never-ending supply of sarcasm and eye-rolls that would start an earthquake.”
“She’s something else. I don’t think I’ve ever met another woman like her.” Trev finished his beer. “Is there anything about her that’s simple?”
“No. She’s like a little labyrinth. Just when I think I’m breaking her down and finding something out about her, a fucking hedge pops up, and I can’t go any further.”
He leaned back and motioned for another beer. “I knew this would happen.”
“What would?”
“This. You like her.”
“Course I like her. She’s a great girl.”
“Nah. You like her, Mason. You can tell me that you don’t, but it’s obvious.”
I sighed and switched my empty beer for the full one that the server placed in front of me. “All right—yeah, shit. I do. Can you blame me, though? She’s fucking gorgeous, she’s hilarious, and she can handle being around my family. It’s like the holy trinity of women.”
“Hot, funny, and tolerant of old people’s bullshit?”