The Broken Road - A Zac Efron Novel (18+)

Chapter 42 - The Last First

"Alright, let's go get stocked up at the grocery store and go pick up your car. Have a nice quiet night in. What do you think?" Zac asked me after we spent the afternoon laying in each other's arms by the pool.

"Yeah," I replied excitedly and nodded my head up and down. My smile stretched across my face, revealing my perfect, white teeth.

He offered his hand to me and headed back into the house.

"Do you want me to do like a full-on throw down in the kitchen tonight or make like chicken or something?" I asked him.

"Oh, I want the full experience," he replied, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.

"Ha-ha. Even after your extra credit in the shower this afternoon, my bits are not quite recovered from yesterday," I said as I opened cupboards in the kitchen, surveying what he had to work with for cooking utensils and pots and pans.

"I'm sorry," he turned to me, giving her the full puppy dog eye treatment.

"Don't be sorry," I giggled. "My parts will adjust to your uh...size...eventually," I blushed. "But I'm going to put you into food coma anyway, so it won't matter."

"That's my girl. Ready?"

"Ready," I said as I followed him outside. He opened the passenger side door for me like the gentleman he was.

"Hey, my assistant needs me for like an hour to go through some things. I know we said we were going to lay low for a few days, but if I give her an hour, then I can totally tune out work stuff for a while."

"Ok."

"So, is it alright if she comes over tomorrow?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask babe, just make yourself at home."

"It's still your house though, Zac. I promise it'll be quick."

"But I want you to feel welcome when you're here. You aren't intruding. Take as long as you need."

A little over an hour later, Zac pulled back into the driveway with me following behind in my white Range Rover as we returned from the grocery store. We grabbed several bags of groceries out of Zac's car and carried them into the house.

"I'm sorry we got papped," he said as he turned the alarm off.

"Ah, I'm used to it. Besides, we're old news now, maybe they won't even run the pictures," I shrugged my shoulders as I kicked my shoes off.

"Right. Sometimes I forget that you're used to this. I'll put all of this away and you can get cooking. I'm starving," he said rubbing his belly.

We danced around each other in the kitchen as he re-stocked his kitchen with all of the essentials and I chopped, sautéed, stirred and baked. Zac did his part when he was done unpacking – opening wine for both of us and staying out of the way.

"What are we having anyway?" he asked, as he leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.

"Spinach salad with green apples, dried cranberries and homemade vinaigrette to start. Shrimp and grits with cornbread. And peach cobbler for dessert."

"You're too good for me," he wrapped his arms around me from behind, nibbling on the back of my neck.

"Nonsense. And if you keep doing that, you're going to end up with one very burned dinner," I scolded as he turned his attention to the other side of my neck.

"We can't have that, now can we?" he teased as he stood up straight behind me. "Where did you learn how to cook Southern food?"

"My Nanna was a Southern Belle. And our summer house was in North Carolina."