Moving from the photos on her wall, I look around her living room. She has a large white sectional that covers an entire wall and cuts across the open floor plan. There are throw pillows on almost every inch of the couch. They’re bright and fun colors, something I appreciate. I paid thousands upon thousands of dollars to have my place decorated back in Manhattan, and the most color there is the little bit of navy in certain rooms.
I finally walk into her kitchen, laughing because, like everything else about her, it’s a little messy. There are cups lined by the sink and a few dishes in it. It isn’t dirty, but the keys and mail strewn about the counter are far more disorganized than my own space. I like that about her, which is something I never imagined myself saying. I like that she’s always moving to the beat of her own drum, moving from one thing to the next without ever taking things too seriously.
I open her fridge to find it relatively empty. Trisha has made sure my fridge at my rental stays stocked, so even if I wanted to leave Pippa’s to get her some groceries—which I don’t—I wouldn’t even know what to get.
She has one pack of chicken in there. I check the expiration date, finding that it still has a few days until it goes bad. Pulling the chicken out, I set it on the counter and continue to rifle through the contents of the fridge until I feel like I have enough to make her some soup.
As the skillet heats, I pull my phone out and call Trisha to ask her to send some groceries. I might not be able to run out and get Pippa some, but I want her to have options without having to worry about going grocery shopping. Trisha doesn’t ask any questions, even when I give an address for the delivery she knows isn’t my rental.
I’m busy adding some last-minute salt and pepper to the simmering pot of chicken noodle soup when Pippa ambles into the kitchen. The entire right side of her face is red, imprints from the sheets pressed into her skin.
I look up, trying to fight a smile at the way her hair sticks out in every direction. It’s cute as hell. An unwelcome thought creeps into my mind. I think I could get used to being here when Pippa wakes up. I wouldn’t complain about being on the receiving end of many more sleepy smiles from her.
“Good morning,” I tease, looking out her kitchen window. “Or should I say afternoon?”
She stops next to me, peeking inside the pot. “Did you make this?”
I give it one more stir before I place the lid over the pot. My hip rests against the counter as I lazily cross my arms across my chest. “I did.”
“You cook?”
“If I want to.”
“It smells edible.”
I reach out and grab her by the hips, pulling her body against mine before I can think too deeply about it. She smiles at me, the color back in her face after being pale and clammy when I first arrived.
“I can’t believe you made me homemade soup.” She sounds shocked, rising to her tiptoes to loop her arms around my neck.
It feels natural to be in this position with her. It feels like something we’ve been doing for years and not some new foreign thing to the both of us.
“I actually made it for myself,” I joke. “You can fend for yourself.”
Her bottom lip juts out in a pout. “But it smells delicious.”
My head rears back. “Did you just give me a compliment, shortcake?”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“But it felt good.”
“You’ll have to earn them.”
“I think I’ll have fun earning more from you.”
Red tinges her cheeks, spreading down the skin of her neck before the flush disappears into the fabric of her hoodie. “You could’ve had a lot more of them if you weren’t a humongous dick to me the first time we met.”
“I’ll just have to make up for lost time.” I fight a smirk, remembering the insults she threw at me the second time we met. “At least now you know I wasn’t an asshole to compensate for my cock,” I add.
Her eyes get wide. She reaches up and holds a hand over her mouth, trying to hide a smile.
“You’ve got me there.”
I cup her face in my hands, fighting every instinct of mine to lean down and kiss her. I know I shouldn’t do it. She’s sick, and I have no idea what the hell is happening between us. But there isn’t a part of me that doesn’t want to claim her mouth with mine. To kiss along her cheeks and down her neck.
Groaning, I let my forehead fall against hers. I take a deep breath to calm myself before I pull away and turn back to the stove. “Let’s get you some food.”