Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27790 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27790 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Why did he leave?
Stop being obtuse, Sydney. He didn’t come home, so obviously, he found a woman to occupy him all night. I tried not to think about the way he ghosted us, while I had another drink with Callie at the bar.
Finally, I called it a night and lied to her, saying I needed to be up early for work. What I really did was rush home to see if Tobias was here and find out what he thought of my performance.
But now, I don’t care.
I slip out of my room and pad to the kitchen to make lunch. This seems like a carbohydrate kind of day, so I grab the bread, deciding to make myself a grilled cheese. Not to brag, but I really do make the best. The secret is loads of butter. I pull out the skillet from the lower cabinet, and when I straighten, I see Tobias in nothing but a green towel wrapped around his hips. For a quick second, I peek at his yummy abs before I turn toward the stove.
“I wasn’t aware you were here,” he says, moving in my direction.
I breathe a sigh of relief that he didn’t see me getting off to x-rated fantasies of him in my mind. “I didn’t know you were back.”
“Yeah. Sorry I left right after your performance.” My belly churns at his mention of me singing, hoping he doesn’t tell me I sucked.
He steps closer, taking all the oxygen in the kitchen with him. The bright light in the kitchen spotlights every nook and cranny on his torso like a magnifying glass. “I wanted to tell you,” he breathes in, and then lets it out slowly, inching even closer. “You were amazing. Your voice…” His words fall away and my cheeks heat.
“Oh, please,” I say, waving off his praise.
He lifts my chin, so I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “I mean it. You have a voice like no other. I’d sign you right now if I thought it’s what you wanted.” It’s like he’s looking into the deepest recesses of my soul. “Is it?”
I’m too lost in his eyes to understand the question. “Is what?”
“Is that what you want?”
I’m in a daze, and my mind can’t comprehend what he’s saying to me. He’s casting some sort of voodoo magic over me, so I move away and focus back on the task at hand.
Grilled cheese.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
He hops on the counter, and it would take a stronger person than me not to look when his towel gapes open a little, exposing muscular thighs.
He winks and adjusts his towel. “Ah, no peeking,” he says. “I mean, unless you want me to remove it?”
Yeah, I do. But I laugh at his words. “Like I’d ever.”
He braces his hands on the counter, studying my tank top and cotton shorts. “Mhm.”
He’s so cocky, and overwhelming. And totally didn’t mention where he stayed last night. Well, it’s not my business and I refuse to ask.
“I’m going to change clothes,” I say, spinning on my heel and leaving my grilled cheese mess on the counter.
“What about your sandwich?” he calls after me.
“I no longer have an appetite.” Without a look back, lest I turn into a pillar of salt, I escape to my bedroom and slam the door. I jerk my journal off the nightstand and let my frustration out on the page.
Even his balls are sexy. Yes, I got a glimpse. They are manscaped and perfect. Not too big and not too small. Just right. And that just annoys me more because I sound like a porn version of Goldilocks. And now he’s in my kitchen, cooking my grilled cheese. How much longer am I supposed to live with this man? I need to talk to my dad tomorrow, tell him he should send Tobias back to LA. We don’t need him.
I’m lost in thought as a knock at my door halts my pen.
“What do you want?” I call through the wood.
“I made you my famous grilled cheese.”
I toss the notebook on my bed and cross the floor to open the door. Tobias is now dressed in black sweats and a t-shirt that reads, “I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you.” He’s holding a white plate with a golden-brown grilled cheese, cut diagonal—exactly how I like it.
“You didn’t need to cook me anything.”
He grins. “I wanted to, because you looked… hungry.” The way he says the words leaves little to the imagination. He’s implying I was hungry for him.
“Well, I’m not.”
He nudges the plate toward me. “You’re not going to eat this deliciousness?”
My mouth waters because it’s cooked to perfection, with crisp edges and the right amount of cheese. It’s like he’s my sandwich soulmate. “Ok, maybe I am hungry.”
“I’m hungry too, but not for food.” His eyes rake over my body as I take the plate, and I recognize exactly what he means.