Seven Days: The Complete Story by Dale Lindy

Author:Dale, Lindy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: threesome, lovers, love triangle, 18, romance novel, new adult, romance series
Publisher: Secret Creek Press

After I’m dressed, I go to the kitchen. It’s not a place I’d hang for more than five minutes under normal circumstances but Joel’s been so gorgeous to me, so loving; I want to do something nice for him. I rattle around and find the ingredients to make him eggs for breakfast. After noodles, eggs are one thing I can cook to perfection. I find juice in the fridge and some yummy chutney, the bottle of which looks as if it’s worth more than my rent for a week. I’ve got the coffee on, too, because — lucky for me — the machine is a replica of the one at the flat. The old flat. Where I used to live.

Joel comes into the kitchen dressed for work. He’s wearing khaki work pants, boots and a well-worn denim shirt with Mother of Pearl pressed stud buttons. It’s faded at the elbows and slightly frayed along the cuffs. His hair is mussed where he’s pulled the shirt on over his head rather than using the buttons. It makes him look rugged. God, I want to unbutton him. I want to slide that fabric off his shoulders and let him bend me over the breakfast bar.

“Sadie.”

“Huh?” I say, a piece of un-buttered toast frozen in my grasp.

“You’re perving.”

“I am not!” My cheeks feel like every vessel of blood in my body has surfaced on it. I try to sound indignant but we both know I’m doing exactly what he says I am.

“Yes you are.”

“Well, it’s your fault. How am I meant to concentrate on breakfast if you come in looking like that? You make me want to eat you, not the eggs.”

“Be my guest.”

“Behave.”

“Make me.”

Oh, he’s a dirty one, my Joel.

He sits at the breakfast bar and I serve the eggs and toast onto his plate. I pour him coffee and hand him a glass of juice. Then I sit next to him like are an old married couple. But we’re not.

“I could get used to this,” he says, as the eggs and toast disappear from the plate.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. My only culinary conquests are eggs and two-minute noodles. Most people don’t like those for breakfast so I break out the Pop Tarts on occasion. Just for variety.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nup.”

“I’d have never picked you for domestically inept.”

“Thanks. I must hide it better than I thought.”

“I have to say I’m disappointed.”

“Thought you were getting the domestic goddess for your housemate, not just the love goddess, did you?” I joke and shoulder him in the bicep.

“I’m not upset because you can’t cook.”

I tilt my head.

“I had this fantasy of you wearing nothing but one of those frilly-edged aprons and me doing you over the bench while you cooked me a three course meal.”

Oh for Pete’s sake.

“You are officially beyond help.”

“So I’ve been told.”

I pick up our plates and take them to the sink where I scrape the teeny bits of leftovers into the bin and stack them into the dishwasher. I’m hunting around under the sink looking for dishwashing tablets when I feel a hand on my bum.

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