How to Steal Your Best Friend's Fiancé - London Casey Page 0,35
of wine this is. You just shuffled off some shitty Christmas gift wine for me to deal with now.”
Liam leaned against the counter. “You done yet?”
“No. What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Give it away to someone,” he said. “As a shitty Christmas gift. Nobody will snub their nose at something written in French.”
I pushed the bottle away. “How’s the hangover?”
“Gone.”
“I see you’re all dried off and changed.”
Liam touched his shirt. “Yeah. About that…”
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “I just had to work all day in wet clothes. And you know what happens when wet clothes dry? Against your skin? It kind of… chaffs. In certain areas…”
I waved my right hand around the front of my body.
Liam looked away. “I was just trying to help.”
“Trying to impress,” I said.
“Did you get it fixed at least?”
“Of course I did. Henry showed up.”
“That’s the maintenance guy?” Liam asked.
“Henry?” I let out a breath. “Six-foot-six. Arms the size of a tree. Tan like a surfer. Brightest blue eyes ever. I’m talking… he puts the H in hunk. And he could put his D in-”
“Really?” Liam snapped. He pushed from the counter. “What, you have some bodybuilder as a maintenance guy there?”
I laughed. “Whoa. Feeling a little inadequate there, Liam?”
“What?” he asked, curling his eyebrows down.
“I’m kidding,” I said. “Henry is a sweet, old man. He’s a handyman. He probably gets paid next to nothing because…”
I stopped.
… because your fiancée is cheap and will do whatever she can to pay people as little as possible…
“The sink is fixed,” I said. “It needed a part. There was nothing you could’ve done to fix it, Liam. Don’t worry, you still have your man card.”
Liam shook his head. “Sorry about that, Em. It’s just…” Liam lifted his nose. “Do you smell…”
Before he could finish his question, the smoke alarm started to go off.
I let out a yell and ran to the oven.
When I opened the door, a puff of smoke was thrown at me.
That only made the smoke alarm angrier.
I shut the oven door and turned the oven off.
“What is that?” Liam called out.
“Go open a window!” I yelled to him.
He went to the window and I ran to the fridge to get the stepladder.
It was sad how much I needed the stepladder.
Hence why it was always within reach.
With a dish towel in my hand, I climbed up the stepladder and started waving the towel like I was at a football game, cheering on some guy to run for a touchdown.
The burnt smell of what should have been sweet and savory chocolate chip cookies made my eyes and nose tingle.
I had been so fucking worried about the smell in the apartment…
I moved up to my toes and started to smack the smoke alarm with the towel.
“Shut up, you bastard,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Em, be careful,” Liam said. “Why don’t you let me-”
I screamed as the stepladder moved probably a centimeter on the floor.
To me, it was as though someone kicked it out from under me and I was going to plummet four hundred feet into a pit of alligators.
My arms did the whole windmill motion and I threw myself back.
All I pictured was me slamming off the kitchen floor, hitting my ass, my back, and my head.
All of which happened right in front Liam.
I screamed again, then felt Liam’s arms around me.
I turned my head and he was cradling me in his arms.
My heart leapt out of my chest and right back in.
The smoke alarm finally stopping screeching.
“Hey,” Liam said.
“Holy shit,” I said.
“What were you baking?”
“Cookies.”
“You made cookies for me?” Liam asked with a grin.
My mind slapped my heart and my heart slapped my mind.
Liam’s left hand touched my back… but his right hand was a few inches away from having more than a handful of my ass…
I wiggled and he put me on my feet.
I walked to the oven and gently opened the door.
A little bit more smoke climbed out.
I was careful this time not to set off the smoke alarm.
I slid an oven mitt on my hand and took the tray from the oven.
The cookies were done for.
Charred.
“Em?” Liam asked.
“They were for Miss Crabapple,” I said. “She lives on a different floor. She has terminal cancer. I was making her cookies. I completely forgot about them. I blame you for this.”