Down for Her by Melissa Chambers (best electronic book reader .txt) 📕

He glances over at me, giving me that cool guy smile. “When I’m hungry.”

I walk in and pick up a chip from a bowl of them. “Wow, you really can cook. This is a lot,” I say, looking at the tortillas, bowls of shredded cheese, salsa, guacamole, and a pan of pinto beans on the stove.

“Tori and I try to do a family dinner about once a month. She’ll be over in a minute.”

“Ah,” I say, feeling a tad dejected, which is silly. It’s not like he’d done this for me…of course.

“Where have you been today?” he asks, not looking at me.

“Orientation, online.”

“I’ve heard that test is rough. Did you pass?” He meets my gaze, and I’m tossed back into last night when he held my hand in the pool, and I find myself looking away, afraid he can read my thoughts.

“I did, but I had a little help.” I inwardly wince after saying it. I don’t want to get Jack in trouble.

“Who from?” he asks, looking suspicious.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He looks down at the skillet with a snide smile. I guess I’m not nearly as good of an avoider as I thought I was.

My stomach gives off a loud growl, and he lifts his eyebrow, looking at it.

“Sorry,” I say, putting a hand over it.

“We’ll probably eat around seven. Drinks as soon as Tori gets here with the sangria and beer.”

I give an indifferent nod, though I’m doing cartwheels on the inside. “Great,” I say, and then skedaddle down the hallway to his room.

I jump in the shower and then dress, putting on just enough makeup to not be able to tell I have any on. I squirt one quick pump of my body spray into the air and walk through it and then let out a sigh, giving myself a last check. More broken hearts than questions on that test. There were fifty questions on the test. That’s a lot of broken hearts.

When I get back to the kitchen, the small space is packed. Tori holds a pitcher of red liquid with fruit soaking in it, and she pours it into clear plastic cups on the counter. A couple I don’t know flirt over the guacamole. The girl dips a chip and tries to feed it to the guy. “You sure you want me to have onions? Because we’re gonna be doing some making up later on this evening,” he says, snaking his arms around her waist.

“I’ve got you a toothbrush,” she says.

“You didn’t throw it out after last week?”

She gives him a playful grin. “You know I didn’t.”

“Kylie,” Tori says, getting everyone’s attention, “that sickening display is Janelle and Chris.”

Janelle has backed into Chris, and he has his arm around her waist. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a smile the size of Florida. He’s definitely cute.

“Hi.” I turn to Janelle. “You’re Tori’s roommate?”

“I am,” she says, her smile matching his. Yep, major make-up sex happening on this street tonight.

“Where do you work in the resort?” I ask.

“I’m in marketing and PR,” Janelle says. “It’s my job to make this place look even better online than it does in person.”

Chris reaches down to her ear. “They just need to post pictures of you on the website and they’d have this place at capacity year-round.” He’s right about that. She’s got big, beautiful eyes like Issa Rae. He bites her earlobe, and she wiggles away from him with a grin. Their chemistry together is so hot I think I might need another shower…a cold one.

“You must work with Bailey,” I say to Janelle.

“Yep. Partners in PR crime.”

I smile and turn to Chris. “What do you do?”

He takes a chip. “I don’t work here. I’m at the hospital.”

“Nice. What do you do there?”

“Accounting.”

“Who wants sangria?” Tori asks, passing cups out. Chris and Janelle both take one. Tori picks up two more cups and hands one to Brett, proffering the other toward me. I feel guilty for not contributing to the evening. Back home, I would have brought a pricey bottle of wine. But I don’t even have the money for a low-dollar bottle at this point. “Kylie?” Tori asks, nodding at the drink.

“Thanks,” I say, taking it, swallowing my guilt and humility. At times like this I feel like a fraud…like if these people saw where I moved here from and the extravagant habits I left behind, they wouldn’t be so accommodating.

Tori picks up the final cup and holds it up to the group. “To fajita night.”

“To fajita night,” we all say in unison and then sip our drinks.

I’m aware of the front door opening, and then Val appears in the kitchen with a twelve-pack of imported beer. “Pardon me, pretty ladies.”

“Who are you calling a lady?” Chris asks.

Val puckers up and makes a smooching sound in Chris’s direction, and he ducks away from him. Val puts the beer up and then faces me. “I owe you. This place looks fantastic.”

“She takes Venmo,” Janelle says.

“Oh, shit, sure,” Val says, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

I open my mouth to protest, but the idea of actually receiving some money is too tantalizing.

Brett hands me some bills. “Here. I got this when I went to the store earlier today. Thanks for cleaning.”

I shake my head, eyeing the cash like it’s a glass of ice water in the middle of the Sahara.

“Girl, take that money,” Janelle says. “You earned it if you cleaned this nasty-ass pit.”

Brett slides the cash into my pocket, and I’m too mesmerized by his eye contact to argue.

Tori picks up the bowl of chips. “Let’s move this into the dining room. We’re gonna all get pregnant if we get any closer in this kitchen.”

“Let’s have a drink before we eat,” Val says. “It’ll be too hard to catch a buzz otherwise.”

“True,” Chris says, taking a long drink of his sangria.

I follow the group into the living room, and as Brett comes in, he looks at me with that grin that hides so much.

“I didn’t