Free Infamous: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Novel by Arabella Abbing Page B

head.
    “What the hell are you doing?” she asked as she stepped into the kitchen and tried to peek into the pot I had boiling on the stove.
    “What’s it look like? I’m making dinner.”
    Her nose wrinkled up before she blandly stated, “It smells like something’s burning.”
    “It’s probably the cookies. Pull them out, yeah?”
    “ Cookies? For dinner?”
    I shrugged, glancing over to her as she pulled the tray of cookies out of the oven. Sure enough, I could detect the burnt scent April had mentioned as soon as the door was opened. At least there was plenty of milk in the fridge. That’d make them more bearable.
    “I’m not exactly master chef over here,” I admitted as I pulled the lid off the pot and stirred the pasta. “The only things I could find in here that seemed simple to make was a roll of cookie dough and macaroni and cheese.”
    “A winning combination, for sure,” she commented, poking at one of the cookies with a spatula. “We could have just ordered out, you know.”
    “Don’t I get points for effort here? I was trying to do something nice.”
    April lifted one shoulder in the air and smiled. “I’ll give you half a point.”
    “Half a—You’re fucking insane. This is worth at least three,” I balked, gesturing at the stove with my spoon.
    “One and a half.”
    “Stop giving me halves, woman. Two points.”
    “Fine! Two points. That’s the highest I’ll go.”
    “I’ll take it,” I said with a grin as she walked to my side and stood in front of the sink.
    April raised a brow and turned her eyes to hold my gaze. “I suppose since you did the cooking, that leaves me to clean up your mess?”
    “It’d be greatly appreciated, but not necessary. I’ll do it.”
    After I finished, I subtly shifted my eyes to gauge her reaction. She seemed both surprised and pleased that I would make the offer to clean the dishes and a small smile appeared on her lips as she started to fill up one side of the sink with warm water.
    That’s another point for me.
    From the corner of my eye, I saw her attempt to subtly glance over at me and her smile widened when she realized I wasn’t looking. I held back my smirk, but internally was patting myself on the back for the fact that she seemed to be rather pleased with me.
    It wasn’t an expensive, romantic dinner. It was simple, honest, real—and that seemed to be the ticket to making April happy.
    As she washed the baking sheet while I divided the macaroni and cheese between two plates, I thought hard about my next move. Some time during or after dinner, I needed to find the right moment to step my game up.

15

April
    C oming out after a long bath and finding Jared Moore standing in the kitchen cooking dinner was probably a fantasy for thousands of women. It wasn’t one I could ever admit to having of him myself, but when I happened across it in reality, I added it to my list.
    Because regardless of what he was making, it was still incredible to witness. The only thing I could think of that would have made it any better was if he had lost the shirt.
    The salacious thought was like a shock to the system and I went on the defensive—hiding my emotions under an act of annoyance. I had to admit I was surprised when he told me I didn’t need to do the dishes, but while I scrubbed the pan he had baked the cookies on, a voice in the back of my head warned me that he had likely planned it that way. So as we sat down to eat, my smile had melted from genuine to tight with nerves.
    I ate slowly—waiting for him to ruin the pleasant bond we’d built over the past few days—but nothing ever became of my fear. By the time I finished my bowl of mac and cheese and reached for a cookie, my worries had pretty much fully dissolved.
    Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe Jared was legitimately just doing something nice.
    “Up for a movie, princess?”
    The nickname annoyed me, but he didn’t seem to notice he said it. The smirk that usually accompanied the word