always done very well, and April was left to do the grunt work in the kitchen. If she hadn’t felt so hungover, she would have enjoyed the quiet, monotonous work. Instead, all she could think about was crawling back into bed and sleeping the day away, hopefully to awake tomorrow feeling less embarrassed about the last time she saw Van.
“Well, look at you.”
She closed her eyes tightly, hoping she was hearing things. Unfortunately, as Van sidled up to the center island, looking refreshed and sinfully handsome in a plain tee and workout shorts, April wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole. Of course he was fine after last night. Of course. She licked her lips and stared pointedly at her tower of perfectly stacked cupcakes. The pink frosting was the only food that tempted her thus far, and her mouth watered, as she wondered what it must taste like.
“How are you feeling?” Van asked, leaning on the countertop and snagging a cookie from the Tupperware container in front of him. She looked up sharply when he crunched down on one.
“Fine.” She went for the tray of cupcakes, hoisting it up carefully and stalking around the kitchen to the patio doors. Her kitten heels clacked loudly with each step, and she struggled to get the screen door open, as Van’s eyes bore into the back of her head. After some awkward maneuvering, she managed to get it open with her foot then disappeared outside to set the cupcakes out. A few more of her mom’s cohorts had arrived—though none of them acknowledged April. Maybe they think I’m hired help.
“Listen,” Van started as soon as she was back in the kitchen, and she fixed him with a narrowed look as she went for a plate to set the cookies on, “about last night—”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said abruptly. “Thanks for the drinks and the ride home. I’m fine.”
“You know,” he told her, as she started transferring cookies from the Tupperware to the plate, “all I wanted to do last night was kiss you.”
Her hands slipped, and she ended up breaking one of the cookies in half, the crumbs littering the island countertop. April stared straight ahead, her cheeks flushed by the confession, and without thinking, she handed half of the broken cookie to Van, which he took.
“But you were drunk,” he continued, as April bit into her half of the cookie, her mind suddenly very far away, “and I’d feel like a real asshole for kissing a drunk girl, even more so for going up to her place when she invited me—”
“We can pretend that part didn’t happen.” She set the cookie aside and continued filling up the plate. “It was… I was drunk. I didn’t mean it.”
“Of course.”
“At all.”
“Understood.”
She cast him a sidelong glance and caught him studying her, cookie in hand. Of course he’d wanted to kiss her. He probably wanted to kiss anyone with a pair of boobs. She wasn’t special. Head held high, she gestured to the rest of the treats.
“You can make yourself useful and bring those outside, you know,” she told him, preferring to set him to work than continue with the conversation. She didn’t have it in her today to handle anything of that magnitude. Nodding, Van started grabbing trays and plates of sweets, bringing them all outside to the garden party without her having to direct him. When he was done, there was nothing left for her to move, so she popped open a tin of the leftover pink cupcake frosting and scooped some out on her finger, a reward for working with a throbbing hangover and a distractingly sexy man.
“How’s it taste?”
She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing the sugar was bound to make her headache worse.
“Delicious.”
April went for seconds, thirds, fourths, not caring that she was double-dipping with her finger, and before she knew it, Van was beside her. He caught her hand on her fifth scoop, then brought it to his
“Well, look at you.”
She closed her eyes tightly, hoping she was hearing things. Unfortunately, as Van sidled up to the center island, looking refreshed and sinfully handsome in a plain tee and workout shorts, April wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole. Of course he was fine after last night. Of course. She licked her lips and stared pointedly at her tower of perfectly stacked cupcakes. The pink frosting was the only food that tempted her thus far, and her mouth watered, as she wondered what it must taste like.
“How are you feeling?” Van asked, leaning on the countertop and snagging a cookie from the Tupperware container in front of him. She looked up sharply when he crunched down on one.
“Fine.” She went for the tray of cupcakes, hoisting it up carefully and stalking around the kitchen to the patio doors. Her kitten heels clacked loudly with each step, and she struggled to get the screen door open, as Van’s eyes bore into the back of her head. After some awkward maneuvering, she managed to get it open with her foot then disappeared outside to set the cupcakes out. A few more of her mom’s cohorts had arrived—though none of them acknowledged April. Maybe they think I’m hired help.
“Listen,” Van started as soon as she was back in the kitchen, and she fixed him with a narrowed look as she went for a plate to set the cookies on, “about last night—”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said abruptly. “Thanks for the drinks and the ride home. I’m fine.”
“You know,” he told her, as she started transferring cookies from the Tupperware to the plate, “all I wanted to do last night was kiss you.”
Her hands slipped, and she ended up breaking one of the cookies in half, the crumbs littering the island countertop. April stared straight ahead, her cheeks flushed by the confession, and without thinking, she handed half of the broken cookie to Van, which he took.
“But you were drunk,” he continued, as April bit into her half of the cookie, her mind suddenly very far away, “and I’d feel like a real asshole for kissing a drunk girl, even more so for going up to her place when she invited me—”
“We can pretend that part didn’t happen.” She set the cookie aside and continued filling up the plate. “It was… I was drunk. I didn’t mean it.”
“Of course.”
“At all.”
“Understood.”
She cast him a sidelong glance and caught him studying her, cookie in hand. Of course he’d wanted to kiss her. He probably wanted to kiss anyone with a pair of boobs. She wasn’t special. Head held high, she gestured to the rest of the treats.
“You can make yourself useful and bring those outside, you know,” she told him, preferring to set him to work than continue with the conversation. She didn’t have it in her today to handle anything of that magnitude. Nodding, Van started grabbing trays and plates of sweets, bringing them all outside to the garden party without her having to direct him. When he was done, there was nothing left for her to move, so she popped open a tin of the leftover pink cupcake frosting and scooped some out on her finger, a reward for working with a throbbing hangover and a distractingly sexy man.
“How’s it taste?”
She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing the sugar was bound to make her headache worse.
“Delicious.”
April went for seconds, thirds, fourths, not caring that she was double-dipping with her finger, and before she knew it, Van was beside her. He caught her hand on her fifth scoop, then brought it to his
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