He opened his mouth to answer but she guided the spoon forward. The delicate cream sauce hit his tongue, the buttery decadence balanced perfectly with the fresh herbs she’d added to it. “That’s delicious.”
She sniffed. “Of course it is. Told you I can cook.”
“And no, I’m not my evil twin brother. But being around you does tend to tempt me away from my best laid plans. I was supposed to take things slow tonight.”
She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “To be honest, I’m kind of glad you didn’t. I was getting really nervous to come over here tonight. After a week apart, I thought it might be awkward. Plus, despite what happened at The Ranch, it’s still hard to wrap my head around all this. It feels a little surreal.”
He curled his fingers around hers, rubbing a thumb over her wrist. “Surreal?”
“A few weeks ago, I was serving you eggs and now I’m—”
“Serving me, period,” he said softly.
Her lashes dipped. “Yes.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the center of her palm. “It’s just as surreal for me, love. Maybe best laid plans aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.”
He could see her throat work as she swallowed hard. “You ready for dinner?”
“I’m ready for it all.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kelsey finished wiping down the table in the kitchen and loaded their dishes into the dishwasher while the storm still hammered the house. Wyatt had told her not to worry about any of the cleanup. He had a housekeeper who would be there the next day. But she wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing that dirty dishes were in the sink. Her sister, Brynn, had ingrained in her that no food was to ever be left out. They’d waged a constant battle with roaches in the crappy little rental they’d lived in growing up, and the habit of making sure everything was spotless had never gone away. In her days of addiction, she’d lost sight of that, but it’d been the first thing she’d gotten back on track with once she’d sobered up. Clean house meant clean Kelsey.r: Roni Loren“I’m . . . sorry?” Her accusatory tone seemed to indicate an apology was necessary. “I have a cook, does that count?”
“No.” She raised her hand at her side, keeping her back to him, but silencing him all the same. “Give me a second. I think I’m sporting girl wood.”
The laugh burst out of him, echoing up the vaulted ceilings. “Over my stove?”
“Shh.”
But he couldn’t help himself. “So if I ever need to get you in the mood, I should have kitchen catalogs on hand?”
She spun around with a smirk, but he couldn’t help but notice the sharp little points now pressing against that fitted top.
He chuckled even harder.
“What?” she asked, pressing her lips together, obviously on the verge of a laugh herself.
He waved a hand in her direction, trying to keep his eyes from straying downward again, to no avail. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Oh, come on. What?” Then she followed his glance and saw what was impossible to miss. She crossed her arms over her chest, mock offense on her face. “Hey, it’s cold in here. And my hair’s still a little wet.”
He nodded solemnly. “Uh-huh. Or you just got turned on by a range.”
She harrumphed and snagged a bag of oranges he’d taken out of one of the grocery sacks, turning to the opposite counter and keeping those perky nipples out of view. “Hey, we all have our kinks, right?”
“Clearly. Makes mental note to bring a spatula and a wooden spoon on our trip to satisfy your kitchen fetish.”
She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. God, sexy and so fucking cute on top of it.
“So what’s with the groceries?” he asked.
She turned around and shrugged. “I had heard the weather was supposed to get bad and thought we’d eat here instead. Plus, considering the things we have to discuss, I figured a private setting may be better.”
He leaned against the island. “You could’ve mentioned it to me. I would’ve have Ms. Murel prepare something for us before she left for the day.”
The side of her mouth lifted. “I thought I’d cook for you. You know, as a thank you. And because I enjoy it and rarely get to do it for someone outside of the cafe.”