Being a Chef, you learned a thing or two.
1. You work well with your hands.
2. You're not afraid to get down & dirty.
3. You're all about pleasing.
4. You can satisfy every taste bud.
5. You can go on for hours without breaks.
6. You know how to han...
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Tristan walks into my room with breakfast, and I don't want to kill the mood by telling him I don't eat food in my bed. Growing up, my mother wasn't having that. We took our asses to the table. So it's something that I still do to this day. I sit up in the bed as she brings over two plates of food.
"You shouldn't have." I look down and smile.
"I wasn't sure what to make." He sits on the bed with his plate.
"Apparently, you made nothing, but thank you. No one has ever made me strawberry poptarts before," I touch it. "Oh, and you toasted it."
"Aren't they that supposed to be toasted?"
"They can be—it's the thought that counts thank you." I bite into it, and Tristan turns to look at me. A questioning look on his face.
"No...you don't eat your poptart toasted?"
"It's not a big deal, but no, I don't," I answer, and he picks up his poptart and takes a bite, nodding his head. I didn't push the conversation further and slipped out the bed to use the bathroom. I seriously can't eat in bed. I see Tristan has no problems with it, but it will take me a little longer to adjust to breakfast in my bed. I hear him mumble something, and I shout I have to pee.
Last night with Tristan was spectacular. I know this man is someone I want to be with. You never forget about your first. I was stupid—no, I was hurt and pissed off, so I signed the contract. Knowing damn well it would come back and bite me in the ass. Tiffany, Sage, and Olivia aren't happy with me one bit. I caused a problem and dragged them in to help me fix it. Why am I like this? Why?
I leave out the bathroom to see Tristan is no longer sitting on my bed, and both plates are gone. I walk into the kitchen, where he finishes the last of his poptart. As if he knows what I'm looking for, he tells me he put mine in the refrigerator to cool down. How sweet of him. I see he is trying, and I should as well. I'm becoming the type of woman I tell the guys to avoid. The headache isnt worth it.
My doorbell rings, and I change directions.
"Who is it?" I shout.
"It's me," Olivia answers, and I open the door. It's not just Olivia standing on the other side of this door but also Patrick. Olivia walks by me, and I try to stop her and Patrick from going further. The last thing I want is for Patrick to see a half-naked Tristan in my kitchen. I might be grown, but the guys definitely make me and the ladies feel like little sisters. I won't dare flaunt a half-naked man in front of any of them. I love my life.
"What are you guys doing here?" I question, stopping them both in the foyer.
"To talk about the contract. We only have two days to brainstorm—wait, move out the way, the fuck." Olivia starts, and I grab her arm.
"What is up with you? You have someone here you don't want us to see?" Patrick finally speaks up, pushing me out of the way.
I close my door and prepare for the worst. I walk quickly behind them, look to my right, and see that Tristan is no longer in the kitchen and his things aren't in the living room anymore. Where the hell did he go so fast? Olivia looks at me with a smirk, and I flip her off. Patrick walks into my kitchen, looking through my pantry like he always does for something to eat.
