Oleander - Bucky BarnesxOC

CHAPTER NINETEEN: GREEN LIGHT

"Nothing." She stifles her giggles. "Nothing. It's just... that looks like..."

He grins and bites his lip.

"Say it, Dahlia."

She cups her hand over her mouth and leans over.

"It looks like something you would keep in your bedroom."

"Our bedroom," he tells her.

"Right." She sips her wine and they both laugh.

"I promise, this is just for pasta."

"Oh, so you don't have something like that for more unsavory activities?"

"I do."

"Oh!" She giggles. "Do you have one of those Fifty Shades of Grey rooms?"

"Christ," James laughs. "No, I got rid of mine after those movies came out."

"Seriously?"

"No," he chuckles as he reaches over, grabbing his wine glass and taking a sip. "I do have stuff, though."

She bites her lip.

"Good to know."

James winks at her and dusts the cutting board, along with the ridged paddle with some flour. He begins to take small sections of dough, rolling them down the board with a gentle flick of his wrist. It's effortless. Dahlia watches with fascination. He's fast and efficient, rolling most of the dough in a matter of minutes, in between sprinkling some more flour on the cutting board and the wooden paddle. He gently begins to gather up the rolled pasta and place it into a pot of boiling, salted water and glances over at her, gesturing to her wine glass with one hand.

"You want a refill?"

"Sure."

James pours them both some more wine and waits for the gnocchi to cook as he heats up a pan with homemade sauce in it. Dahlia puts her chin on her hand and stares at him as he multitasks. He's really good at it, and he doesn't seem to make nearly as big a mess as she does when she cooks. James is extremely neat and tidy, always wiping down surfaces every time he moves on to a new step.

"I never got to ask you about your baseball career."

"Right," he laughs softly.

"For some reason I thought you played football."

James quirks a brow.

"What gave you that impression?"

"Peter told me. He said you were a quarterback in high school."

James chuckles.

"I don't know where that kid is getting his information, but—"

"When he was driving me somewhere, there was a championship ring on the floor of the car. Peter said it was yours. You were a quarterback."

"Nope," James replies. "I've pitched my whole life. That might have been Steve's or Sam's. They both played in high school. Sam played football in college."

"Does Peter drive them around, too?"

James nods as he stirs the sauce and begins to take the gnocchi out of the pot, placing it onto their plates. Dahlia can't tell if he's lying or not. She doesn't think so. Maybe Peter doesn't know that much about him. She's not sure how close they are. She remembers what they talked about that morning when she told him she didn't want their relationship to be based on lies. He seemed to take it seriously, but Dahlia is feeling a little bold. She bites her lip.

"Are you telling me the truth?"

"About me being a pitcher?"

"Yeah."