Simmering Love (Slow Burn Book 3) Read online

  I can tell that if I turn around, she will be grinning, the light in her eyes captivating. I don’t turn around.

  “What is the breakfast of champions?” I ask, adding some crumbled cheese to the pan and watching it melt on top of the fluffy eggs.

  “Coffee.” Her light voice comes from behind me, and I finally chance looking over my shoulder.

  Big mistake.

  She’s sitting in the chair with one leg propped up and her arms wrapped around her shin, pressing her breasts together. I shut my mouth before drool can escape and lean over to grab the bread and slip it into the toaster.

  “Not much of a coffee person,” I say, and I can’t help but smile when I hear her gasp behind me while I turn back around.

  “Don’t tell me you’re a tea drinker?” she says, wrinkling her nose.

  “You don’t like tea?” I cock an eyebrow and rest one hip against the counter as I look at her out of the corner of my eye.

  “Didn’t say that. But I had an ex who would only drink Earl Grey, and since we broke up, I can’t see tea the same way anymore. Took to coffee to heal my broken heart, and I haven’t looked back since.”

  “What happened?”

  “He didn’t like me or what I have between my legs. Or arms really, if I’m being honest.”

  I choke a little as she freely talks about her, um, lady bits without a care in the world.

  “He was gay?”

  “Completely,” she says with a giggle. “It all makes sense, looking back. He never really wanted to touch me, and I thought that was odd. Not saying I’m the best-looking thing out there, but I have had other guys who wanted to, well, you know, do stuff with me, and the fact that he would outright refuse it sort of hurt my feelings until everything came out.” She stares out the window next to the table as she talks, and I’m mesmerized by the way her mouth moves and the way her nose scrunches up on certain words.

  I’m thrown off by the jealousy I feel as she talks about other guys wanting to touch her, and I quickly turn back to my food before I give myself a chance to even think about why I’m feeling this way. I don’t know this girl. Sure, she’s attractive. She’s fucking beautiful, but I can’t mess this up. A paying roommate will help out now that I’m giving half of my savings to Mark.

  “So, how did you find out?”

  “Find out what?”

  “That he was gay?” I slip the eggs onto a plate and slather the avocado slices on the toast. I pull the bacon from the oven, crispy and sizzling in the pan. I’ve done this every morning for as long as I can remember and have the timing down to a science.

  “Dang, you are good at breakfast,” Pepper says, admiring my timing skills, and I feel a little sensation course through me, part–good feeling and part-warning.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I say, reminding her.

  “Oh! Right. I found him blowing Billy Chambers in the bathroom at a party we went to together. Quite the surprise really—to me and both of them. They thought they had locked the door, and I was just trying to go pee. Anyway, I wasn’t that upset about breaking up. It was more the fact that I’d thought there was something wrong with me for a while.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” I say, looking at her as I sit in the seat across the table.

  My heart thuds loudly in my chest as I realize I’m teetering on the edge of insanity, and I almost give an audible sigh of relief when Pepper doesn’t even bat an eye at my statement. She just leans over to take a piece of bacon off my plate and continues her story.

  “Then, I started dating Chase Timbers, and boy, did he know how to kiss.” She fans her face and gives me an exaggerated grin before taking another bite of her pilfered bacon.

  “I’m glad you were able to get over your ex so quickly,” I say, pulling my plate closer to me and narrowing my eyes at her stealing hands.

  “Oh jeez, you have fifteen pieces of bacon. You won’t die if I eat one,” she says, a little giggle making her chest shake. Not that I notice.

  “What happened to Chase?” I ask to get my mind off her chest.

  “He wouldn’t take no for an answer,” she says, raising and lowering her shoulders with a little sigh. “But he was really hot. That one hurt.”

  “What do you mean, he wouldn’t take no for an answer? Did he do something to you?” I scowl across the table as I envision a big guy taking advantage of the petite girl in front of me. Not girl. No, she’s all woman.

  “Calm down there,” she says, resting one hand on my arm that’s knotted up with tension as I clench my fork. “No, he didn’t force himself on me. I just didn’t want to give it up at that point, and he wanted something more than reaching second base in his pickup truck, so we had to part ways. I wonder what he’s doing these days.” She cocks her head to the side and purses her lips.

  God, those lips. What are they doing to me?

  “Uh, well, good,” I say, clearing my throat and shoveling another bite in my mouth before I say anything else stupid.

  “That’s sweet of you to worry about me.” She gives me a smile and stands, putting both arms above her head in a stretch that I pay not one bit of attention to. Not one.

  “I’m not worried about you,” I say without looking up, and then I mentally berate myself for being an idiot. When she doesn’t say anything back, I glance at her and see the small frown on her face.

  “Okay,” she says quietly, and I realize what I said to her.

  “No, I mean … I didn’t mean it like that—” I start to backtrack.

  She cuts me off, “It’s fine. Really, Ben. You don’t know me.” She lets out a tiny laugh that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

  No, but I’d like to. Say it, dumbass. Say it.

  “Well, I’m going to grab the bathroom for a shower if you won’t be needing it?” She cocks an eyebrow and waits for my answer, her arms crossed over her chest as if she’s holding her feelings inside her body.

  “No, all yours,” I tell her and watch as she leaves the room, wishing I could take back the last minute of our conversation.

  6

  Pepper

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” flashes through my mind for the thousandth time since he said it.

  It was said in such a serious manner, and now, I can’t decide what he really meant.

  I can’t quite figure him out, and it’s odd to be living with someone I know nothing about. But I made my bed, and now, I have to lie in it. Surely, Mason would have warned me if he didn’t trust the guy.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  A shudder rolls through my body, causing me to suddenly remember that I should be taking a shower and not sitting here, making doe eyes in the mirror, thinking about my roommate.

  “Say it, Pepper,” I mutter to myself as I grab a pair of panties and a large T-shirt from my drawer. “Roommate, roommate, roommate.”

  I jump when there’s a knock on the door.

  “Yes?” I ask the closed door, feeling a blush creeping up my neck. I’m not sure why since he can’t see me.

  “Everything okay? I heard you talking to yourself.” Ben’s low voice vibrates through the door.

  I shut my eyes.

  Roommate.

  “Everything is peachy. Thanks for checking.”

  Peachy?

  “Okay,” he says.

  I wait a minute, hearing his breath on the other side of the door before listening to his feet pad across the hall. I don’t move until I hear the sound of his door shutting. I almost get the sense that he wanted to say more, and now, I’m insanely curious as to what it was.

  I make it to the bathroom without seeing him and breathe a sigh of relief. I shower and then quickly don my long T-shirt and panties. I wrap my hair up in a towel, and once I check the hallway for Ben, I make my way back to my room.

  I sink onto my comforter, open my laptop, and then stare at the screen. I hover my fingers over the keyboard.

  Do I want to do this? Do I wan
t to send myself down this road?

  I lower my finger and hit the first key. Before I can stop myself, I type in Nashville School of Culinary Arts and hit Enter. The front page of the website instantly pops up in all its glory, the vibrant colors and delicious pictures of food projecting from the screen into my eyes. I maneuver my arrow up to the top-right corner, log in to my account, and hit Accept. I’m going to culinary school. A wide smile stretches across my face, and I bounce a little where I’m sitting on my bed. After pumping my fist in the air, I glance around for my phone.

  Who should I call? The thought sends a pang of sadness through me.

  This is my best-kept secret to date. I haven’t told anyone, except my best friend, that culinary school, not graduate school, is my dream. She laughed and told me I would change my mind. I didn’t. Once I got my acceptance email to the Nashville culinary school I’d applied to in secret, as a cover-up, I agreed to go to graduate school at Vanderbilt, and now, here I am, living a complete lie that no one knows about, except me.

  How did I ever think I could pull this off?

  I look back at the computer screen and let loose a little screech.

  Oh well. I can be excited for myself.

  I dart into the hallway and decide I’m going to celebrate with the ice cream I bought on impulse yesterday. I wrench open the freezer door and immediately find the pint of Ben & Jerry’s I stashed for my acceptance celebration I knew was coming. I bump the door with my hip to close it and let out another screech, this one not in excitement.

  “Oh God, Ben. You scared me!” I squeeze the ice cream in my hand and blow a long breath out of my mouth, my cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk.

  “Sorry,” he says, not looking one bit sorry.

  His eyes don’t meet mine, and I realize I’m still in my long T-shirt and panties from earlier. To his credit, I never see his gaze dip lower than my face, but who knows what he saw out of his peripheral vision?

  Roommate.

  I highly doubt he’s never seen a naked woman, so I’m extremely clothed by those standards. Yes, I’m not indecent at all. I decide to show him how chill I am by being caught eating ice cream in my underwear, so I take the top off and grab a spoon, all while feeling his gaze burning into me like he’s attempting to incinerate my body. He’s doing a darn good job of it.

  He brushes past me to open the fridge, where he grabs a container of strawberries and sets it on the counter before turning back to me.

  How small is this kitchen? Was he always standing this close to me?

  He doesn’t look affected by our proximity at all as he reaches around me for the cutting board and knife. He stands there, chopping strawberries and placing them in a bowl, while I eat spoonful after spoonful of my delectable, cold dessert, and we don’t speak. Just like roommates do when they are extremely comfortable with each other and don’t need to fill the air with empty conversation.

  Right? Right.

  “I got into culinary school,” I blurt out, desperately needing to talk.

  His knife continues chopping strawberries as he glances over his shoulder at me.

  “Dammit,” he says, and I flinch.

  “Well, no, I mean … I consider it a good thing. It’s sort of my dream. I know everyone thinks I’m going to graduate school, but I’m not. I just haven’t told anyone yet—”

  “No,” he says, cutting me off.

  “Yes, I’m doing it, and I won’t let anyone tell me any different—”

  “Can you grab me a towel?” He turns, and I see blood dripping from his thumb.

  I quickly grab the towel and lay it over his hand. “Oh my God, Ben. That’s a lot of—.”

  I can feel my stomach sink as I sway, and then a strong hand wraps around my bicep.

  “Hey, it’s only a little nick. Are you okay?” He pushes gently on my arm, walking me backward until we get to the table, and he hooks a foot around a chair, pulling it out.

  “Great. Peachy.”

  Darn. There’s that word again.

  He still has the towel wrapped around his thumb as he crouches down to look at me.

  “I’m good. Want me to take a look at that?” I gesture toward his hand, so he’ll quit staring at me with those brown eyes that look like they can see right into my soul.

  “You almost fainted at the sight of it,” he says, his brows going straight up his forehead.

  “Right.” I nod and sit back on my hands.

  I freeze as his hand—the one that doesn’t have the cut—reaches out, and it brushes lightly across my forehead.

  “Your bruise is coming in nicely,” he comments before removing his hand.

  I want to scream for him to put it back. I feel so cool now with his skin not touching mine.

  “I bruise easy,” I say with a shrug. I don’t know why I said it. I don’t bruise easy.

  “I’m going to go put a Band-Aid on. Sit tight. Don’t try to get up until I get back.”

  He pushes up from his crouch, and I drop my eyes. The heat rising on my cheeks makes me flush even more. I tap my fingers against the condensation forming on the ice cream as I wait for him to come back.

  Ben walks back around the corner and holds his newly bandaged thumb up. “Good as new,” he says with a grin, and I can’t help but smile back at him.

  Who are you, and what have you done to my body? Why won’t you put your hands all over me?

  I’m thinking like a sex-starved woman, and I need out. I’ve got to get away from this hard-bodied, sex-godlike man of a roommate.

  Sex god? I snort, clearly amused at my thoughts.

  Ben crinkles his forehead in confusion. It’s hard to look at his beautiful, curly brown hair and his hard muscles beneath that T-shirt and not have some sort of attraction.

  “So, culinary school?” He cocks an eyebrow as he goes back to slicing his strawberries.

  “Yep. Would you mind not spreading that around? Besides you, I’ve told … well, no one.” I shovel another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. I’m starting to feel sick with all the sugar filling my stomach.

  He stops his slicing and turns to face me. “No one?”

  “No one. My parents think I’m here to go to Vanderbilt for graduate school, so one day, I can take over the family business.”

  “Let me get this straight. You moved here to go to school and don’t think your parents will check in on anything, and then one day, maybe three or four years from now, when you’re supposed to graduate, you think they’ll just overlook that they never got a notification of the time or location where their darling girl is supposed to graduate with her graduate degree … no questions asked?”

  “Yes, basically.” I nod and give him a wilting smile.

  He doubles over, his silent laughter making his face turn red before he finally rights himself and wipes under both eyes. “Damn, you are crazy.” He grabs his bowl of strawberries and comes to sit next to me.

  “I’m not. Just smothered.” I set my ice cream down and pull my feet up into the chair with me before he grunts and clears his throat, suddenly looking at a very interesting spot on the wall next to us while I sheepishly lower my legs back down.

  Panties. Right.

  “I love my parents, but they’ve never taken me seriously with my cooking. They think it’s a hobby, and any talk of school was always cut off with what they told me I’d be doing.” I don’t know why I’m baring my soul to someone I met yesterday. Sure, I have an insane attraction to him but … roommates. I can’t mess that up. Where would I go?

  “Your secret is safe with me,” he says with a wink before popping another strawberry in his mouth.

  Panties? What panties? They just melted off my body.

  “Thanks, Benjamin. I really appreciate it.” My voice comes out high and squeaky, and he glances up at me. I clear my throat and hope that my voice will return to normal. “What are you doing today?”

  “A whole bunch of this,” he says with a shrug.

  “You’re eatin
g a whole bunch of strawberries? Can’t that, like, give you diarrhea?” I wrinkle my nose.

  Ben barks out a laugh, and his spoon clatters back into the bowl. “Way to make me not want to eat any more. But, no, these are the only strawberries I’m eating. I meant, I’m just hanging out, no plans.”

  “You don’t have to work?”

  “I’m a volunteer firefighter, and I work some construction with a friend. I don’t exactly have shifts.” He shrugs and then leans back in his chair. “Why?” His forehead creases suspiciously.

  I worry my lower lip, embarrassed to even ask, but when his eyes drop to where my teeth are nibbling, I get a burst of courage.

  “I’m going exploring today. Do you want to come with me?” I think time has stopped, and I suck all the air out of the room and into my lungs while I wait for his reply.

  He leans forward and shoves another spoonful of sugary strawberries into his mouth before looking back at me. “Sure.”

  Never has that word sounded more wonderful to my ears.

  God, I’ve got it bad for this guy.

  His looks mixed with my sexual tension have created a terrible, horrible situation for me.

  Do not touch. Do not, under any circumstances, crawl into his lap, baby koala–style, and suction yourself to his mouth.

  “Great. Let me go, um … change,” I say with a blush as I stand and try to make sure my T-shirt hem doesn’t ride up.

  He doesn’t glance up as he nods, and I scamper off around the corner before I let my breath out, praying the whole time that I won’t wake up to find this was just a dream. I was so frazzled that I didn’t even put my ice cream up. Totally out of character for me.

  Roommates.

  Right.

  7

  Ben

  As soon as Pepper rounds the corner—not that I was watching or anything—I blow out a breath. Those legs of hers are going to get me into trouble. She looked so sexy, sitting there in a T-shirt, her hair pulled up in a towel, and I had to consciously keep my eyes from straying.

  Friends. Roommates. Mason’s cousin. I play that on a loop in my head.