My fingers itched to jerk her against me.
What the hell is wrong with me?
It was like my sex drive had gone into hunger-mode without an off button.
Damn, I want to take her like a savage against the fridge decorated with the mom magnets.
Every weird fantasy I’d ever had about librarians and teachers came flaring to life as she turned around and gave me a scathing look.
Probably not the time to ask her if she has a wooden spoon and knows how to use it, right?
I vaguely remembered that she’d asked for my wine preference, so I quickly handed her the glass and tried to gather myself before I gathered her and didn’t let go. “Red is good.”
“Good, because I don’t have white.” She grinned and started pouring quite heavily into a wine glass.
“That’s good.” I chuckled. “We don’t want me getting drunk. Not sure I can turn it off then, and I try to stay away from too much alcohol.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks bloomed red.
“Hey.” I reached out, then dropped my hand. “It’s fine. I just like to be careful. All the guys do. It’s our thing. We weren’t the best in our teens or early twenties, so wine and cider are basically the only things we drink. Anything harder than that, and we suddenly remember how fucking nice it is to do a line of cocaine and pretend we’re Superman.”
She choked on her sip.
I winced. “Sorry, too far? Also, know that Braden is in good hands. Plus, you raised him right. You don’t have to worry about—”
She waved me off, her face pale. “Subject change?”
“What? You don’t like talking about drugs?” I teased. “Should we go over safe sex next? I could do the good ol’ birds-and-bees talk, especially since I never got it. Bronte, where do babies come from?”
Laughter burst from her mouth, and she shook her head as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to point me toward the door or ask me to sit on the couch. “Wow, I can’t decide if I hate you, or if I find you charming.”
Her head tilted a bit, and her smile was wide. Even her teeth were pretty, all white and straight against glossy lips. Her cheeks were flushed and looking almost biteable next to her reddish-brown hair.
“Charming.” I clinked my glass against hers. “I’m fucking adorable.”
Her eyes widened a bit before she cleared her throat and looked away. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say adorable. I reserve that for kittens, children, and stuffed animals.”
“Wow, and here I thought I was selling it so well,” I teased, leaning my body against the countertop, trying to put distance between us, so she felt like I wasn’t there to maul her by the oven.
“Uh-huh.” She opened her mouth to say something — possibly confess her undying love — when the timer went off on the oven. “Shoot!”
I moved out of her way as she scurried around the kitchen, grabbed her oven mitts, and pulled open the door.
The smell of food — good food. Not tour food, but food that was homemade — filled the air. I couldn’t suppress the groan that emitted from my mouth if I tried.
“Oh God, please tell me that’s some sort of pasta.” I licked my lips, then set my wineglass down and stared at the pan of bubbling cheese as she placed it on the countertop. “I may orgasm. You’ve been warned.”
She dropped the spoon she was using directly into the food then glared at me. “Your fault.”
I held up my hands. “You take away points for honesty?”
“Yes.” She glared harder. “No.” A huff and then “Should have never let you in the door.”
“Ha, if I were you, I’d be more worried about how the hell you’re going to try to get me out.” I winked at her sharp intake of breath. “Don’t worry. I know, I know… you want me to set the table. I’ll grab the plates.”
And just like that, I set us up on the breakfast bar with plates, napkins, cutlery, and then moved her goblet near her plate all while she watched me, possibly frozen in shock that I was house-trained.
“I’m not an animal, you know,” I said once I pulled out her barstool. “I have manners. I just like seeing you blush.”
She gulped and then looked guiltily away before sitting down on the stool. “I know. Sorry, I just…” Her shoulders slumped a bit. “It’s been a while since I’ve had dinner with someone, or with anyone of the male variety. Amelia’s with her friends a lot, and even when she’s home, we’re usually binge-watching something or sitting on the couch…”
“Hmm…” I grabbed a napkin and folded it out on her lap then tilted her chin up with my fingertip. “Food should be savored. Life will always come at you fast, but you won’t ever regret sitting down and letting your body rest while your mind goes over the things you did that day and take a minute to thank God you’re alive. Just sit. Food should be experienced, and it’s my preference that it’s experienced with someone you mildly tolerate.”
“You think I mildly tolerate you?” Her eyes darted to my mouth.
She was like Eve holding out a juicy apple, and I was like Adam, telling myself that one bite was completely harmless.
I’m not gorging myself on her fruit, so it’s fine, right?
I leaned down, brushing my thumb her parting lips.
The sound of the door opening jolted me back.
“MOM!”
Her eyes went from lust to panic in one second.
The worst part was, I was still planning on getting that kiss. I’d just tie Braden to a chair and put him outside for a while. It was warm; he’d be fine. I might even throw him a scrap.
Don’t let it ever be said I wasn’t generous. He was lucky he was still breathing.
He skipped into the kitchen with Piper, his fiancée, in tow and stuttered to a stop. His eyes flashed to the two plates, the wine, and I could
