The Deal Taker (Book III)

Chapter Fifteen - Breathe

The beeping of the coffee pot made me jump and nearly choke on the string cheese. I immediately snatched a mug out of the cabinet and filled it with hot coffee, loads of sugar, and cream. I was so caught up in little tasks to keep me from thinking too hard, I didn't even hear the door open.

"You're making pizza for breakfast? Anna..." Matthew shook his head in disappointment.

Was it wrong for the first thing for me to do was check to see if he was wearing pants? He was, by the way. "Your chefs made it for me," I shot back.

He smiled and walked around the island until he was next to me. I was paralyzed as he reached his hand towards me and...

Stole my damn coffee.

Matthew lifted my mug to his lips and took a few gulps, only to pull it away and cringe. "How much sugar did you put in there? That amount could kill you."

I snatched the mug out of his hand and glared at him. "It's not meant for you."

He rolled his eyes and turned to make himself a cup of black coffee.

I stood anxiously by the oven, trying to avoid as much eye contact as possible. My fingers strummed along the countertop of the island as I slowly moved until my back was to Matthew and I was fully facing the oven window. I might as well have been wearing a flashing sign saying, "I'm avoiding you. This is awkward." How was I supposed to survive one and a half more nights here? At least when we get back to Chicago I'll have people around me and a huge house to hide in. Being here was like constantly being stuck in one room together.

Something cold touched my strumming fingers, causing me to flinch away.

Matthew's hand had touched mine and he was giving me his brows slightly pushed together and his lips pushed halfway up. I knew that look. I knew the look because he gives me that look before asking me serious questions and having a mature talk. Matthew was always for having an adult talk about serious topics, and I always have hated talking about serious subjects. "About last night..." he began, leaning against the island just inches from me.

Oh God no. "What?" I questioned, glancing repeatedly at the oven in hopes the pizza would be done so I could totally get out of this incredibly awkward chat.

"I want to talk about it."

My maturity went out the window at that point. I think my embarrassment and hatred of talking about feelings and gushy stuff overcame me. I let out a loud groan and threw myself against the counter of the island so my face was mashed against the counter and my arms were around my head. "Why do we always have to talk?" I groaned, my voice muffled from being buried.

"I want to talk about it because I know you'll just sweep it under the rug."

I let out another groan and, immaturely, banged my head against the counter. "What's wrong with that? Not everything has to be about feelings, Matthew."

"You're the most frustrating woman to have ever existed."

My head slowly lifted from the counter as I tried to get a peek at him. He wasn't angry, but instead seemed mildly annoyed. "Excuse me? I was just fine not five minutes ago. You're the one who is frustrating."

Matthew sighed and shook his head. "You're frustrating because I don't even have an idea of what you must be thinking. You never do anything in a predictable or pattern behavior. Nothing is ever planned, nothing is ever said, and that is incredibly frustrating."

I stood up straight now, letting my hair fall partially in my face and down my back. "If you wanted to know what I was thinking, you should have had a witch put some kind of hex on me or something. Plus, I usually speak my mind so I don't understand why you're confused by anything I do."