The Foster Girls #3: Elizabeth

Chapter 7: Rig

Something smelled good – really good – as I walked down the hallway. Cookies and something savory. When I unlocked my door, the smell was so strong that I knew it was coming from the apartment across from mine. Apparently, the tiny nymph who lived across the hall enjoyed cooking and baking. I tossed my bag in the door and then took a step across the hall and banged on her door.

She answered after a minute, her bright eyes both wary and slightly hostile. "Something burning?" I asked. "Something's really smelling up the hallway."

As planned, she bristled and puffed up immediately. Score! "Nothing is burning and everything is cooking and baking perfectly."

I sniffed again. "Hmmm, doesn't smell like it. Are you sure?"

She opened the door wider. "Seriously, does anything smell like it's burning in here?"

Striding forward I moved past the threshold. Whether she wanted me in here or not, I was in. "Smells like those cookies again. Are you trying to get them right this time?"

Her teeth gritted. "There's nothing to get right when they're already perfect."

"So mediocrity is OK with you? Good to know."

She stomped over to where the cookies were already cooling on some racks and took a bite out of one. "Absolutely perfect."

I'd followed her over and grabbed the cookie she'd bitten into out of her hand. Trying to pretend she wasn't watching, she glanced at me from the corner of her eye as I bit into it. God, this woman could bake. I made a slight grimace. "Yeah, still the same."

She rolled her eyes and swiped at my cookie. I held it out of reach then shoved the rest in my mouth.

"Don't feel you have to finish it to avoid hurting my feelings."

"Just being polite," I grinned, then grabbed two more.

Reaching into her fridge, she slammed a half-gallon of milk in front of me then turned to get a glass. In the meantime, I did what any self-respecting caveman would do and tipped the carton to my mouth. Bright blue-violet eyes narrowed in horror.

"You did not just drink out of my milk carton!"

"Tastes the best that way." I swallowed down the last of the cookie. "So what's for dinner?"

She glared at me. "My dinner is going to be a crockpot stew and homemade bread. I guess your dinner will be whatever you order for takeout?"

"No, see, here's what's going to happen. You're going to invite me to have some dinner with you because of my irresistible charm," I ignored her bark of laughter, "and then we're going to eat some more of your mediocre cookies for dessert."

She was about to send me packing, I could tell. So, going on instinct, I improvised. "I haven't had homemade food in a long time. It smells really good, so good it's making me homesick for my mom, and I'm really hungry and I –"

"Fine," she growled at me. "I'll give you some dinner."

And that's exactly what she did. Two minutes later, I was standing in the hall, loaded with three food containers holding my bread, stew, and cookies, confused as hell.

My intention had been to eat dinner in her place and then take the evening to its logical conclusion. Which was not me standing in the hall, sent back to my place to eat on my own. What the hell was wrong with her? Every other woman in this state would grow a pair of balls in order to give their right nut to have me one-on-one in their apartment.

An hour later, I knocked on her door again, empty food containers in hand. Damn, my neighbor could cook.

She swung open her door and frowned when she saw it was me. "Yes?"

I shoved the containers at her. "Dinner wasn't too bad. A little bland, but overall OK." Lies. It had been total mouth orgasms.

"Are you kidding me?" She looked furious...well, as furious as a tiny, adorable nymph could look. "Did no one ever teach you manners?"

"I'm trying to help you," I said soothingly, trying not to laugh. "You know, better your skills so you don't embarrass yourself."

Her mouth just dropped open as she snatched the containers from my hand. "Good night."

Before she could slam her door, I put a hand on it. "Do you have any more cookies? And some milk?"

Her eyes blinked in shock, but surprisingly she told me to wait a minute.

The door shut and then reopened two minutes later. She pushed the carton of milk that I'd drunk from at me, along with a container of cookies. "Have a good night."

Before I could reply, the door shut in my face. This was becoming a bad habit of hers.

The next day, I'd visited the children in the hospital and passed out the cookies from my neighbor to them as I read them stories. As usual, I had to read the girls stories from a series on sprites, nymphs and fairies -- and I couldn't help but see Elizabeth in the pictures of the nymphs. The boys were blood thirstier and wanted pirates. Even if they couldn't agree on stories, they all  loved the cookies and begged for more. So that evening I found myself in front of Elizabeth's door before I headed out to the bar to meet some guys from the team.

The door swung open and Elizabeth stood there glaring at me. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm going to need about three dozen cookies for next Tuesday."

"Let me get this straight. You want me to do a favor for you after you insult my cooking and baking with not even a 'please' or 'thank you'?"

"Pretty much."

"And why am I supposed to do this?" She eyed me suspiciously, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Because you find it impossible to resist my good looks and charm?"

"Try again."

I looked down and decided to be somewhat honest. "Because I took the cookies to some kids today and they want more for next week."

"You have children?"

I laughed out loud at that. "God, no. It's, ah, some kids in the hospital who clearly don't mind your mediocre baking skills. I go read to them every week."

She gave me a long searching glance, seeing more than I wanted her to.

"Fine. I'll have some ready next Monday night. I'll just leave them on your doorknob."

"I can come get them."

"Please don't," she shot back, just before she shut the door.

In my face.

Once again.