I f ucking loved that. "You're so random. I love it. But let's not argue about my friends. I only have a few," she said quietly. "Can I help?" I let out a sigh. "Here." I gave her the bowl. "Woah. Are we going to eat all of these?" she goggled at the bowl. "I only cracked eight. There's still four left in that one carton," I pointed out. "That's a lot." "How many do you usually cook?" She looked up from the bowl. "I don't cook. Ever. It scares me." I sighed again. "Alright, just pick out the egg shells." She scrunched her nose at the bowl. "You're not very good at cracking. I don't think I am either, but I can fix this. I'm an expert on picking out eggshells." But she just made it worse. She punctured the yolks, making it hard to find the eggshells. She laughed, giggled, laughed some more, like a little girl messing up her chores and was unapologetically having fun with it. "Let's just cook it like this!" She threw her hands up in defeat. "This is a hard job and these eggs are rude." I shook my head at her, chuckling because she was so damn adorable. "Watch this for me. I'm going to make toast for your sandwich." "Don't leave me here. I'll burn this place down! Cam!" "Calm down. I'm just right here." "Didn't you attend Nice Guy Class 101? You don't tell a girl to calm down." "I'm not a nice guy." I opened the fridge, searching for condiments for her sandwich. I had nothing here but water bottles and a box of pizza I had last week. It was probably moldy by now. I decided I'd throw it out later. I got up, spotted my cooler on the floor. How... caring and thoughtful and just damned sweet was she? I knew I was smiling as I opened it, grabbed a sandwich, and scarfed it down. Then I sniffed something in the air. Something burning. "Holy shit, Kara, what the hell?" I hurried to the stove and turned it off. "Did you turn the stove on high?" She lifted her head from the bowl to glower at me. "Do you see anyone else here? Of course it was me!" "Well, you don't f ucking turn the stove on that high!" "It was taking so long! And you f ucking left me here! I told you I can't cook!" "For a minute! Jesus." "Stop f ucking yelling at me!" "You're yelling at me too! Fuck!" We looked at each other. Stopped. She laughed first. A big boisterous laugh that shook her shoulders. She almost doubled over while holding her stomach. I laughed with her, gathering her in my arms because I couldn't help it. The pan was still smoking. Soon the fire alarm was going to blare if I didn't do something. Blowing out a breath, I lifted the pan from the stove and yelped. Cursed continuously when I burned my hand. "Shit, shit, shit!" I'd forgotten that this pan was metal—what was I thinking buying this crap—and that I needed a potholder to hold it. I was too busy watching her, too busy smiling at her that I was forgetting every damn thing. "You okay?" She ran to the sink, turned the faucet on. "Come here, you poor baby." "This is all your fault." I scowled at her. "How is this my fault?" She glared back. "You like to argue with me all the time." "No, I don't," she shot back. "You're the one who likes to argue with me all the f ucking time." I raised my brows at her. "See what I mean?" She gave me the death stare for a few seconds before she looked up at the ceiling and blew out a breath. "You make me want to f ucking curse all the time. Why are you so argumentative?" I raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes and beckoned me to her. Still scowling, I stopped in front of the sink. I watched as she held onto my wrist, placed my throbbing hand under the blast of cold water. Her fingers were long and slender, and I wasn't sure which felt good. Her touch or the cold water on my skin. It wasn't even a burn. I barely touched the hot part of the handle. I removed my hand from the water and touched her mouth with my thumb, spreading the water on her bottom lip. It trickled down her chin. We stared into each other's eyes, savoring this moment of aloneness together. I leaned down and kissed her lips. Sucked the water on her chin. "You're so good at that," she said languorously. "At what?" "Kissing me." "Want another one?" She blinked slowly. "Food," she said loudly, stepping away. "Kiss later." I smirked and turned back to the counter, at the mess we made.