The B-Side (Perspective Series Book 1) by B. Harmony

Author:B. Harmony [Harmony, B.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

It must be the combination of a full night of sleep and an actual meal for breakfast that has me smiling all day. Or it could be the thought of how well Chance took care of me last night and again this morning. Whatever it is, the smile on my face hasn’t faded all day while I worked on powering through my proposal presentation edits.

I’m wrapping up everything, saving my work to the cloud and my external hard drive before I go downstairs. I’ve lost a major project before, so I’m always sure to double save everything. I can’t afford any fuck-ups this time around.

When I make my way downstairs, the fragrant aroma of Chance’s cooking assaults my senses. He’s standing with his back to me at the stove. There are several pots on the burners. It’s almost as if I’m witnessing a choreographed dance, the way he moves to stir a pot, then gracefully shifts to check whatever he has in the oven and back again to lift and toss the ingredients in another pan.

I watch in amazement for a few more seconds, looking on in wonder before making my presence known. “If dinner tastes as good as it smells, I’m in for a real treat tonight, aren’t I?”

He turns his head and offers me a cocky smirk over his shoulder, “In more ways than one, I hope.”

Well then . . . I clear my throat, trying to tamp down the onslaught of arousal just those few words have caused. Whether I want that or not, we need to talk first.

He turns back towards me, wiping his hands on the dish towel he had hanging over his shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in about another twenty minutes. I hope roasted chicken, potatoes, and a veggie mix is good with you.”

“That sounds delicious.” I make my way over to the fridge as he moves past me towards the living room, his hand sliding along my lower back. “Do you want a beer?”

“Sure, that sounds great.”

I grab two bottles out of the fridge, pop the caps and join him on the couch. There’s a mere inch separating our legs when I sit next to him and pass him the bottle. The silence between us is awkward, tension palpable as we wait to see who will speak first. Awkwardly, I pick at the label on my beer as he lifts his to his lips and takes a long pull.

I let out an audible sigh, “I’m not sure where to start.”

“The beginning is usually a good place,” he jokes trying to ease some of the rigidity in the room.

It works, and I let out a little chuckle. “Well, I guess I’ll start by saying that I’ve thought a lot about what we discussed the other night. And I’ll be honest with you, Chance, I’m petrified of saying yes to you, to giving this a shot between us.”

“Let’s start there. What exactly scares you? Me or the relationship? Or both?”

“All of the above, I guess.

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