Screwed Page 29


I stomp down that line of thinking as quickly as I can. Hayden and I aren’t together, so why am I planning all of this about a guy who’s supposed to be my friend?

“What are you making?” I ask, peering around his shoulder. I’m expecting little more than boxed macaroni and cheese, or maybe a can of soup, and am pleasantly surprised to see him cleaning baby cremini mushrooms.

“Mushroom risotto. And a salad on the side.”

“Hmm.” I don’t know quite what else to say. Did he really just have all the ingredients for a vegetarian dinner just lying around, or did he plan this?

“Wash that cucumber for me, would you?” He tilts his chin to the sink, where a colander waits with a large vibrant green cucumber inside.

“Sure.” I head over to the sink and begin by washing my hands, then rinse off the cucumber. Lost in my thoughts about how in the world I’m going to find time for all the studying that still needs to happen between now and the bar exam, I’m surprised when the sound of Hayden clearing his throat interrupts me.

He’s watching me intently, his eyes burning with something hot and intense. I look down at my hands and realize my movements have been a little lewd.

“I hope I’m next.” His tone is just as serious as his expression.

“You can’t call dibs on me washing your cucumber.”

“I just did.” He smirks.

“Fine. Do you like it like this?” I swirl my hand up and down the phallic vegetable, paying extra attention to my movements to purposefully torture him.

He lets out a ragged groan. “Fuck. Okay, I give up. Just please stop.”

When he reaches down to adjust himself, I can’t help my greedy eyes from following the movement. Damn, what I wouldn’t give for a ride on that love stick. My inner muscles tingle.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said it had been a while,” he adds, his tone frustrated.

“It’s not like I’ve been riding the bologna pony either, but you don’t see me getting turned on by a vegetable.” I look down at the object in question. Hmm . . . the girth is nice. Ew, wait. What am I doing?

“Tell me again why doing the nasty would be a bad idea?” Hayden asks.

I force myself to focus, setting the cucumber onto the wood chopping block and starting to cut it into neat slices. “Because. You’re a man-whore jerkoff. And I’m pretty sure my vagina fell off after my last disaster of a relationship.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” He turns to me with a look of concern. “Let me check things out for you down there. You know, just to make sure you’re healthy.”

I hold up my hand, the one with the chef’s knife, and he takes an uneasy step back. “I agreed to dinner, not a vagina inspection,” I remind him. I’m flushed and too warm, and hoping he doesn’t notice the heat crawling up my neck. One of us has to be the strong one here.

“Fine, have it your way.” He sounds genuinely disappointed, even though I thought our banter was just a little lighthearted fun.

Taking a deep breath, I continue my work as I remind myself of all the reasons Hayden and I can’t go fuck like rabbits in his bed right now. Because, holy hell . . . the sight of him adjusting his hardening cock? My panties are damp and sticking to me right now. It’s fucking distracting. I inhale deeply again, trying to clear my head like we do in yoga, but this time it fails to work. What have I gotten myself into?

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. You can start studying if you want,” Hayden says, pulling me from my not-so-innocent thoughts.

“Sure.” I gather up my materials and plant myself at his dining room table. I’ve just opened my laptop when the sound of him humming snaps my concentration like a twig. I look at him, watching him move effortlessly around his kitchen. God, he’s adorable.

“Hey, Emery,” he calls out.

“Yeah?”

He glances over at me from where he’s positioned in front of the stove, stirring a pot of something. “So your mom never remarried?” Since he met my mom, we haven’t spoken much about her, other than the obligatory she was nice type of comment he provided after.

“Nope,” I say. “After my dad passed away, she had to work three jobs just to keep us in our house. That was very important to her, but left her little time for dating. She had a few boyfriends over the years, but nothing serious.”

He nods along, continuing to stir. “Damn. Three jobs. I can see where you get your work ethic.”

“Yes, but when I was in high school I started realizing what her sacrifices were doing to her, and I made her sell the house and cut down on her work schedule. Her body couldn’t handle it anymore. After fifteen years of burning the candle at both ends, she was starting to have health problems. We moved into an apartment, and she still lives there. Keeps my room exactly the same.”

When I look up from my laptop screen, he’s grinning at me. “That’s sweet. You have a very good mom.”

“Yes, I know.” Her warning rings in my head again. The one about Hayden. Don’t put stock into what’ll never be.

Taking a deep breath, I force my gaze back to my laptop screen, losing myself in the legal terms I’m studying, where things are either black or white, right or wrong, and I immediately feel at ease.

Chapter Thirteen

Hayden

I still can’t believe I’m in Omaha.

Through some mix-up at the front desk, Emery and I ended up sharing a hotel room. Her room is paid for by her company, and I have no problem footing the bill for my own, but I didn’t say a word; I just nodded and smiled when the clerk handed me the key card. I felt like I’d won the damn lottery. Like some tide had shifted, turning in my favor.

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