“I would never judge you.”
She smiled up at him, a weak smile, but it told him she understood. As if knowing the mood needed to be lightened, his stomach growled and Carson laughed and swiped away her tears.
“How can you even be hungry after eating all that food with the kids?”
He shrugged. “I’m a growing boy.”
“Why don’t we do something that always makes me feel better?”
“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for—”
“Not sex.” He leaned down and kissed her soft lips. “At least not right at this very moment. Cooking.”
She nodded, wiggled out of his grip and wiped away the tears.
After grabbing the left over ingredients from the truck, Neil set to work preparing for their meal.
“Do you cook at home?” he asked.
“Pointless when there’s only me. Plus I don’t really have the time to make elaborate dinners. It’s grilled cheese and soup or take-out.”
“Glamorous.”
She laughed.
“You did very well tonight.” He had been particularly impressed with her onions. Normally people cooked them on too high a setting and they became hard and crunchy.
Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms over her chest. “For as much as it pains me to say this, to you of all people, I sucked.”
“I’m serious. Your onions were soft and the perfect shade of brown.”
“I can’t believe I burned that steak.” She approached the counter and rested the heels of her hands on the steel and leaned forward. “But at least I have the satisfaction of knowing that I can kick your ass in the boxing ring. It’s what lets me rest easy at night.”
He pulled down a couple of colanders from the wall where they hung above the sink. “It’s still undetermined.”
And it would forever be undetermined. He would never get in the ring with her. He would never hit her, even for sport.
“What are you making?”
He gestured with his chin. “Come over and find out.”
Besides lightening the mood, this meal was also a thank you. Carson had given up her free time to drive him around. He wasn’t a romantic guy. He didn’t even consider himself thoughtful, but he did know how to cook. And his mother always said that cooking for a woman proved you had what it took to be a good provider and most importantly, it showed that you cared. Not that he needed to prove anything to Carson.
But he had to admit, when he was with her the world seemed right. Not once did he think about racing. Not once did the urge to ride take over his entire being.
And when he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her. About their time together which had been sexy and fun and…perfect.
He’d spent too many years being cast aside without so much as a second glance until Vivian Madewood had come along. She glanced, once, twice, a third time and offered him a place in her home.
In such a short time, Vivian had made him believe he was important, worth more than what his little brain had repeated to himself, as if on a disc. It took him a long time to change the phrase.
Then along came Carson. She challenged him. Called him out on his bullshit, which caused him to be even more of a dick. They brought out the worst in each other …and yet it was the closest and most intimate he’d been with anyone. Maybe that’s what he needed.
She sidled up to the counter top where his ingredients were spread out.
“Oh…I was hoping you’d make the veal” Her eyes grew wide with excitement.
He nodded. “Veal chops, string beans fresh from Jack and Sterling’s garden and, my personal favorite, garlic mashed potatoes.” He hadn’t planned on cooking for two when he purchased food to keep himself fed while staying at the farm, but for Carson, he was willing to share.