Charles remained skeptical, but he chose to stay optimistic. “Hahaha! Whether it’s a mistake or not, these past two days have been amazing!”
—
Meanwhile, Skylar had finished prepping all the ingredients in the kitchen. The vegetables were cleaned and chopped, the meat marinated to perfection. With everything nearly ready, she glanced at the time and picked up her phone to call Joe.
“What time will you be home?” she asked.
Joe was on the basketball court, shooting hoops with a few friends. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he checked the time and replied, “I’m heading back now—should be home in about an hour.”
Turning to the group, Joe said, “I’m taking off first.”
“Leaving already?” John asked. “Come on, let’s play for another hour. It’s rare for all of us to have free time like this.”
Joe shook his head. “I’ve got plans tonight.”
John raised a brow, catching the subtle smile on Joe’s face. “Heading home?”
Joe didn’t deny it.
“Didn’t you say you didn’t like her?” John leaned in, whispering teasingly. “You sure don’t look like someone uninterested.”
Joe smirked. “You don’t understand.” With that, he turned and walked off.
John narrowed his eyes, watching him go. Oh, I understand plenty, he thought. Someone’s getting soft.
—
When Joe stepped into Galaxy Villa, the savory aroma of freshly cooked food welcomed him at the door. His stomach growled. After hours of basketball, the smell hit him like a warm embrace.
Inside the dining room, the table was already set with a variety of dishes—steamed, stir-fried, grilled. While Skylar’s cooking might not rival that of a five-star chef, it had a comforting, homemade appeal. Simple, flavorful, and familiar.
Every time he ate her food, Joe found himself eating more than he intended. Tonight, after burning off calories on the court, he figured he’d earned the right to indulge.
Just as Skylar brought out a sizzling plate of seared salmon, she noticed him standing by the dining table.
“You’re back!” she said with a smile.
Joe looked at her, still slightly flushed from his workout. “Traffic was smooth,” he replied casually, returning her smile.
“You’re ten minutes early,” she noted, glancing at the clock. “Two dishes are still cooking. Just wait a bit longer.”
“No rush,” Joe said, taking a seat. “Take your time.”
He looked over the spread on the table—nearly twenty dishes, each one a modest portion. It was a feast without excess. Nothing flashy, just thoughtful.
Ten minutes later, Skylar emerged from the kitchen with the final plates. As she wiped her hands on a towel, she called out, “Mr. Martin, would you like something to drink? We have red wine, or there are other beverages in the fridge.”
Joe replied, “Red wine sounds good.”
“Coming right up.”
—
An hour passed, and the wine began to take its toll.
Skylar’s cheeks flushed a warm pink as the alcohol set in. She hadn’t expected to get tipsy from just a few sips, but her tolerance was clearly low. Her eyes were glassy, her gaze lingering dreamily on Joe across the table.
Joe, on the other hand, was barely affected. A little wine meant nothing to him. He’d expected this—he already knew Skylar was a lightweight—but watching her like this was something else entirely.
There was a playful innocence in the way she pouted and smiled. Her lips, stained with red wine, glistened softly. She bit her lip unconsciously, making her look both endearing and mischievous.
Joe’s voice dropped, slightly husky. “Don’t go drinking with just anyone in the future.”
Skylar tilted her head, her drunk mind floating somewhere between rebellion and amusement. “Why not? I can drink with whoever I want,” she mumbled. “Do you even know how much I can drink? You’d be shocked if I told you.”
Joe chuckled, his gaze deepening. “Is that so? Then tell me—how much can you drink?”
Skylar raised a hand, her index finger shimmering under the soft light. “Guess what this means,” she said, swaying a little.
Joe leaned forward, playing along. “Oh? What does it mean?”
She giggled, eyes half-lidded. “It’s so obvious, and you still can’t guess?”
The sight of her—drunk, charming, unpredictable—was enough to soften even the coldest man. Joe rested his chin on his hand, watching her with a smile that he didn’t bother to hide anymore.
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